Piss Drawer

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

I'm Aurora, a commoner, an inferior bloodline. My parents taught me a lot of things growing up, but the most important one is never piss off a royal. They run the world, they make the rules, and they are brutal when they don’t get exactly what they want, especially an unmated commoner girl. Most royals fuck commoner girls for fun, knowing we couldn’t possibly fight back. Some of them do it to get their release and then kill them, leaving behind no chance for an heir that is a half-breed. I’ve never seen a commoner female return from the palace. There aren’t many of us left in my pack, but my alpha has managed to convince the royal warriors that there aren’t any unmated females in his pack and if there were, he would gladly hand them over I’m unmated, only a year and half away from turning twenty to feel my mate. I pray to Moon Goddess that I need the protection of a mate. Until that day, a tall, brute man walks into my house like he was invited in. I tremble while he grins. He is a Royal.

In the tenth year of my pursuit of Henry Stone—the profoundly devoted deuteragonist in the novel—he arranges a lavish, extravagant wedding on my behalf. I still feel uneasy even though Henry continues to love me deeply after we get married. This is because the mission progress bar displayed by the system has never moved past zero. On our wedding anniversary, I happen to stumble upon a hidden diary in Henry's desk drawer, which reveals a very shocking truth—Henry has been reborn. He possesses full knowledge that this world is a novel and that I am the antagonist who poses a threat to the protagonist, Renee Schmidt. He puts on a careful act of profound love toward me, strictly for the purpose of shielding Renee, the person he truly cares for. I have just gotten the gist of the whole situation when the system's warning goes off. "You have failed your romance mission. Your existence will be terminated within 48 hours."

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”

This book is authored by Kit Bryan. I'm an ordinary waiter, but I can see people's fate, including Shifters. Like all children, I was tested for magic when I was only a few days old. Since my bloodline is unknown and my magic is unidentifiable, I was marked with a delicate swirling pattern around my upper right arm. I do have magic, just as the tests showed, but it has never lined up with any known Magic species. I can't breathe fire like a dragon Shifter, or hex people who piss me off like Witches. I can't make potions like an Alchemist or seduce people like a Succubus. Now I don't mean to be unappreciative of the power I do have, it's interesting and all, but it just really doesn't pack much of a punch and most of the time it is just pretty much useless. My special magical skill is the ability to see threads of fate. Most of life is annoying enough for me, and what never occurred to me is that my mate is a rude, pompous nuisance. He's an Alpha and my friend's twin brother.

Ahava Deene Madden was a 16 years old girl with special needs, she’s a girl who loves butterflies and anything that is in vibrant color. She is the only heiress of their family so every servant in their house was calling her young lady. She’s studying in a prestigious school under special education when she met a guy in an accident, she steps on his brand new shoes with poop causing him to piss off. After a month they met again in their school event while she’s crying, that guy helps her to find her butler. That day she’s confused why that guy she pissed off before is always playing and spending time with her until she feels an unfamiliar feeling that she doesn’t know. But she doesn’t know that this guy was suffering from a serious stage of brain cancer and his days are counted. What does Deene feel? Is she allowed to fell in love with her condition? Who is that guy making her feel special? Can both of them be happy?

I end up suffering from a miscarriage after getting attacked by a Rogue on the highway. At that moment, my mate, Jerry Shaw, happens to drive by me with his Omega assistant, Monica Reed. As soon as Jerry sees my white dress that's completely stained red, he covers Monica's eyes instantly, blocking her curious gaze. "Don't look. It's bad luck," he says coldly. The next second, the car speeds off. Jerry doesn't even glance in my direction. I collapse onto the ground and try to reach Jerry through our mind-link. Once, twice, ten times... By the 99th attempt, there's still no response. That's when it hits me—to him, neither I nor our pup matters. That evening, I find something under the bed. It's a pair of black lace panties studded with rhinestones. It's sexy, expensive, and clearly not mine. Expressionless, I toss it into a drawer like a useless scrap of trash. Then, I call Jimmy Norwood. My voice is calm and steady as I say, "I've made up my mind. Next week, I'm leaving the pack. I'll come to your territory and start the new job."

For five years of our marriage, Matthew Spark was my entire world. I abandoned my career, severed ties with my family, and molded myself into the perfect wife for him. I believed our love was unshakable, and that our marriage certificate was the ultimate proof of it. Until the day I saw him with my own eyes—holding another woman in his arms as he stepped into our home. “Ava, let me introduce you,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “This is Sophie Spears, and her daughter, Ella. They’ll be living here from now on.” I froze. I had seen her face before—tucked in the drawer of his desk, in his wallet, even as the wallpaper on his phone. And in that instant, I realized the cruel truth: I was the unnecessary outsider. The interloper. The greater insult came when I confronted him. He calmly produced a marriage certificate—his and Sophie’s marriage was three months before ours. That was the moment I learned my marriage had been nothing but a farce. That I wasn’t even significant enough to be a mistress. And in that moment, I laughed. Oh, Matthew. Did you forget who the largest investor in Spark Enterprise was?

Yselle Morel is watching her family's glassworks collapse—unpaid wages, angry suppliers, a bank ready to shut the gates. When Renaud Valois, a feared billionaire financier, offers a rescue, it comes with a cruel condition: marriage. He says it’s business. His eyes say it’s revenge. In Valois’s riverside estate outside Paris, Yselle plays the obedient wife—smiling, thanking staff, acting harmless. She calls it "wife camouflage." Then she finds a locked room behind the library wall: a war room filled with files, photos, and timelines about her father’s life… and a folder stamped with Yselle’s name. Renaud didn’t choose her. He planned her. As “accidents” start closing in—tampered brakes, poisoned tea, a near fall on a dark stairwell—Yselle realizes the marriage isn’t only punishment. It’s protection. Someone wants her silent before the Day 30 board vote that will decide her family’s future. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more she fears the man who raised her. On the eve of the vote, Yselle opens the last drawer in the war room and finds an envelope addressed to her—in her mother’s handwriting. The ink looks fresh. Then the lights go out, and a voice behind her whispers, “Don’t trust your husband.”

The only audible sounds for the next few minutes were the platters of rain against the window and our heavy breathing. I saw him walk his naked ass to the bedside drawer, returning with a document in his hands. "What's this?", I questioned as I reluctantly took it from him. "A contract you need to sign to live." I grew silent as I read through the document. "If you sign that, you're going to be mine and mine alone. I'm going to have you whenever I want, and do with you whatever I please. In return, your father gets to live." *** Sofia's miserable life even darker when she is forced to be the payment for her father's debt to the most ruthless Mafia Lord in the city. Enzo had just one taste of her from a one night stand, and now he can't get her off his head. To keep her close he makes her sign a contract - BE MY SEX DOLL, AND IN RETURN, YOUR FATHER GETS TO LIVE. How long will the lustful contract hold? How will Sofia survive when she's suddenly exposed to the dark rollercoaster of Enzo's underworld? Will she keep being his private prostitute, or will there ever be an unlikely spark of love and desire?