Pj Mask Plane

“I now pronounce you both, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” ━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━ Nadia Petrov Jules, barely eighteen years old, only had one dream in her life - to study abroad and become a doctor. She had even managed to convince her traditional and overprotective strict uncle to let her pursue her dreams in New York. Despite her family's political connections to the mafia cartel, her life was surprisingly calm and peacefully simple. Until he claimed her and took away her virginity. Anatoly Kiseleva, the Russian mafia heir is one word only - destruction in human form, a dedicated hunter who hunts down his enemies until he makes them bleed to their death. He is rumored not to have any beating heart inside his left sided chest. His marriage was fixed with the beautiful Ivanova, Nadia's maternal cousin. On the night of his engagement party, he was a bit drunk and met a girl with a mask on who he had believed to be Ivanova. He made love to the girl in the mask and didn't bother to notice the obvious differences. When the morning came, he was beyond furious after he took off the mask. Now they are both married and Anatoly despises and loathes his new bride who doesn't even have two complete legs. Nadia's life was much too sweet before she was forced and pulled into bitterness and sorrow with a husband who hated her and was disgusted by her disability. To Her, it wasn't a marriage but her death sentence. And to Him, it also wasn't a marriage but an endless torment of shame.

By night, She’s the masked temptation he can’t stop dreaming about. By day, she’s the girl he can’t stand. What happens when both of their worlds collide? By day, she’s a brilliant scholarship student at Wexford Institute of Business & Arts. By night, she becomes Spicy, the club’s most wanted stripper masked in seduction, all for the sake of keeping her sick sister, Ami, Alive. And then there is Jace Harrington, the hockey star, who is royalty, arrogant, and heir to a billion-dollar empire. He’s got everything! fame, fortune, and a long line of girls begging for his attention. But the one girl he can’t forget is the one hiding behind a mask… and the one he can’t stand is Sabrina. Too bad they’re the same person! Their worlds were never meant to collide. But secrets have a way of slipping through the cracks. When Jace discovers the girl he craves is the same one he passionately hates, the line between love, desire, and obsession begins to blur. He’s a rising hockey star with everything to lose. She’s a masked dancer living on borrowed time. Sabrina is barely holding it together. Juggling school, a sick sister (Ami), a reckless one (Skye), and a secret that could destroy everything. Falling in love was never part of the plan. He’s never met a girl who could bring him to his knees. She’s never met a boy worth risking it all for. And when the mask comes off... Someone’s going to get hurt.

Sitting at the top of the food chain; the new emperor of Arcland who took the crown by force, was the ruthless and cold-hearted former general of the Royal army, Carzus Luis de Saltiere. He was widely known as the Death Sword of the battlefield who slaughtered kingdom after kingdoms with a wave of his sword. Not only that, his beast mask that covers his entire face added a ferocious aura on his already intimidating presence. But this very man that frightened everyone who cross paths with him acted like a shy puppy in front of Chiara ──a woman who was brave enough to ask him for a dance during the royal ball. The emperor was possessed! by .... love?

As the plane was going down, we discovered one of the parachutes was defective. In that life-or-death moment, Eugene Shaw handed me the last working parachute. I made it to the ground, but my illegitimate sister, Sharon Cook, was lost in the crash, her remains never recovered. After our rescue, Eugene kept his word and married me, fulfilling our engagement. The wedding was extravagant, but our marriage was a complete disaster. For six years, he lived with a searing hatred, convinced I was responsible for Sharon’s death. To him, I was a villain, and my life became a living hell. When we finally reached the end of our toxic marriage, Eugene dragged me back to the site of the crash, choosing to end both our lives in a twisted act of vengeance. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day, just before the crash. This time, I decided to give the chance of survival to the person he loved most.

The golden boy of high society once stopped a plane for me. And I? I once ran away while pregnant, disappearing for three years. We got married. Nine years later, a younger, stunning woman appeared by his side. She was vibrant and fearless, joining him in all his wild adventures. Meanwhile, I had become a stay-at-home mom, spending my days making sure our daughter didn’t eat junk food. My husband said in disappointment, “Elaine, you’re not the woman you used to be.” Even our daughter complained. “Miss Snow is smart, gorgeous, and makes her own money. But you? You just rely on my dad.” The next morning, I grabbed my ID and filed for divorce. They must have forgotten that at twenty-two, I had the guts to jump off a cliff into the ocean just to break free, and at thirty-five, I would still have the strength to start over.

A few days before my postpartum period ended, I found two plane tickets to Mirelia tucked inside Daryl’s wallet. I was secretly delighted. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. But on the very day I was supposed to recover, he told me that his company had suddenly sent him on a business trip. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep—only to see his first love post on social media. [Finally fulfilled our promise to kiss at Saint Vyron Cathedral. Thank you, God. After all this time, it’s still you.] The photo showed the two of them holding hands and kissing. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I turned to look at my sleeping daughter beside me, then picked up my phone. [Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll take over the family business.]

Clive Hawkins, who had been giving me the cold shoulder, posted on X. [First 100 likes get a breakup cash giveaway.] In no time, it had 99 likes and reposts. I knew he was waiting for me to give in, just like how I begged him to delete it during the ten times we fought before. But this time, I reposted it myself and wrote, [Count me in.] Then, I blocked him on every platform. Three days later, his sister messaged me. [Clive saved you a front row seat. Stop hiding and come back. As long as you show up, he's willing to forgive you.] I glanced at the plane ticket on my desk and replied. [I'm busy.] I really was busy. I’d been admitted to graduate school at Redstone University, and my flight was leaving that night for orientation. From then on, we would be separated by thousands of miles, never to see each other again.

Five years ago, I gave up my research achievements for love. Then, out of the blue, Marcus Parker's childhood friend made her return to the country. Using the excuse of playing truth or dare, they did everything that couples did together. I reminded Marcus not to go too far, but he just gave me a helpless look. "Claire, if I really had something going on with Hannah, I wouldn't have married you." I watched as he chose to abandon saving my mother for Hannah Carter's sake. He even hung up on me when I got into a car accident. When I woke up again, I learned that my unborn child, who was not three months old, had died in my womb. I finally gave up all hope and handed him the divorce papers. "Marcus, let's get divorced." A month later, I boarded a plane bound for Andoria.

In our five years of marriage, my husband, Derrick Wickham, bails on me 99 times for his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Harson. This time, after he stands me up, I find two plane tickets to Frantines in his office. "I was planning to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, we'll just meet at the airport," he says icily. I eagerly pack and get myself ready, arriving early at the airport. I wait from the wee hours of dawn till the late hours of night, but Derrick fails to show up. Then, I see a post on Jessica's social media. "It's my birthday today. Though he doesn't have the time to go on a trip with me to Frantines, I forgive him because he brought me to the amusement park instead!" In the past, I'd have called him, crying and demanding answers. But this time, I'm truly done.

My marriage to Dante, the Moretti heir, was meant to be a union of power, an alliance of empires. But for me, it was also the real deal. Then his adopted sister, Clara, showed up at a party. She was wearing his custom leather jacket, straddling his prized Ducati, and she looked right at me with a smirk. "Dante says," she purred, "that I suit these precious things better than you do." My smile froze. Dante had her on a plane overseas so fast it was like she'd never existed. Five years later, the night before our wedding. I found him staring at the design for our wedding rings. He'd changed the engraving. The "Amor Aeternus"—Eternal Love—was gone. In its place: "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." My sin, my greatest sin. I took off my veil right then and there. "The wedding," I said, my voice like ice, "is off."