Praised Thesaurus

Grandpa Arthur Bennett was taken to court after being accused of using violence and coercion to commit rape. Yet I lounged at home, idly scrolling on my phone while watching a livestream. In my previous life, determined to uncover the truth, I had volunteered to serve as the plaintiff’s lawyer and investigated the case in depth. I had even contacted my brother, Ethan Bennett, praised as a genius lawyer, and urged him to defend Grandpa. But he believed the story I told was absurd—a lie meant to stop him, my best friend, and my mom from going on their trip to Moonlake together—and he blocked all my contact information. In the end, Grandpa was sentenced to life in prison and suffered a fatal heart attack in the courtroom. My family believed I had deliberately helped the plaintiff and disregarded my own kin. They blamed Grandpa’s conviction and death on me. When my Mom returned and saw Grandpa’s body, she collapsed in grief. Overcome with emotion, she got into her car and drove it straight into me, killing me. When I awoke with a start, I realized I had returned to three hours before Grandpa was taken to court.

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

" Just kill me, Alpha! I can't stand it anymore! " , Ashina growled, wincing in pain. " You know what I call my victory? I can see the hatred in your eyes even when I am f***king you! ", Torvar shouted back, pressing her hard against the desk to claim her for the fifth times in row. __________ Ashina Levitsky was confident about being gifted with a sweet, handsome mate by the moon goddess since she was the most obedient, innocent lady of the pack. Brought up as a princess of her Alpha father, Ashina was praised for her dignity by everyone until the day, she was accused of killing sister who was once mated to the dark Alpha, Torvar Kessler. On his day of getting his revenge on Ashina, moon goddess played a dark twist and Ashina turned out to be his second chance mate. Infamous dark Alpha, Torvar Kessler who was known as a killing machine vowed to kill her slowly after claiming her as his mate. Behind those tortures, pains and revenge, Torvar found himself stuck between the lines of love and hate until he learnt that you can never honestly hate the person whom you love. What more secrets were waiting for them?

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

“I am betrothed to marry you…” Esmé mumbled, shivering from her shoulders down her spine. Maybe it was because her clothes were soaked from the rain or the cold stare that the man was grazing towards her—piercing, cold, and judging. "You’re sexy underneath those already-drenched clothes. I could understand if you wanted to tempt me. But you’re crazy enough to tell me you’re marrying me,” he said with a smirk. She never thought she’d be on her knees in front of any man, crying and begging for him to take her in. Left with no options but to beg for shelter at the hands of the most dangerous mafia in their city, Esmé lets go of shame and pride just to talk to the man who is promised to her. With no parents to support her claim that she is betrothed to the billionaire mafia praised by many, she only has her words which he labeled as lies. But Esmé won’t give up that easily, especially when she has dedicated her life to honor her parent’s words before they were assassinated. It was then that Esmé knew she had to stay alive to avenge her parent’s death. But nothing comes easy, especially when it’s a forced marriage to a man who doesn’t want her. By virtue of courage, trust, and seduction—Esmé will go to the depths of hell just so she’ll get his attention, devotion, love... and never let her go.

The doctor said I only had three days left to live. Acute liver failure. My only hope was an experimental clinical trial. It was extremely risky, but had the faintest sliver of a chance to survive. But my husband, David, gave the last available spot... to my adopted sister, Emma, also my daughter’s godmother. Her condition was still in its early stages. He said it was the "right decision," because she “deserved to live more.” I signed the papers to forgo treatment and took the high-dose painkillers prescribed by the doctor. The cost? My organs would shut down, and I would die. When I handed over the jewelry company I’d poured my heart into, along with all my designs, to Emma, my parents praised me, saying, “Now that’s what a good big sister should do.” When I agreed to divorce David so he could marry Emma, he said, “You’ve finally learned to be understanding.” When I told my daughter to call Emma ‘Mom,’ she clapped her hands and said, “Emma is such a gentle and kind mother!” When I gave all my assets to Emma, everyone in the family thought it was only natural. No one noticed anything was wrong with me. I’m just curious. Will they still be able to smile when they find out I'm dead?

Tia has always been labelled a spoiled brat, but this perception is misleading; it’s a carefully crafted act. As the youngest in the Alpha pair of the Cherry Ridge Pack, she feels overlooked while her brother, Simon, is groomed for leadership, and her sister, Hilary, is pampered and praised as their perfect daughter. Her loyal companion, Meadow, is her hidden blessed wolf, a gift she received after surviving a trafficking attempt. One morning, Tia discovers her family and pack brutally slaughtered. Realizing her only refuge lies with her arranged mate, Delta Allan Price, the cousin of the Alpha at Ravens' Peak Pack, she sets out on a dangerous journey. Miles Roberts, Beta of the Fisher Brooks Pack and twin brother to Alpha Tyson, is haunted by the death of his true mate, Hilary. Yet, he refuses to accept that Tia, the sister who has always owned his heart, is lost to him and begins searching for her. However, dark forces are at play, as a villain plots to reclaim their territory. With allies and enemies everywhere, will Miles find Tia in time to protect her? Will they confess their feelings for each other? And will the Goddess unleash her Dark Sister to punish those who have defied her laws? RECOMMENDED: THE ALPHA BEAST'S REBEL WOLF (Book#1 of the Dark Sister of Vengeance Series) as characters reappear. *NO S/A* The book contains the following warnings: Violence, Betrayal, Murder, Crude language and Sex. COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL!! ©2025/ T. MURPHY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!!!

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

I'm the daughter of Don Falcone. After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti. My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand. I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot. Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard. A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear. "Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?" I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me. Instead of getting mad, I smirked. "Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?" Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you." "Be smart and crawl back to your slum." I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé. I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.