Private Story Names Offensive

My husband's gym was celebrating its grand opening, so I grabbed my best friend and headed over under the guise of "checking the place out," armed with a $10 trial class we had snagged from a group deal. I never once mentioned that I was the owner's wife. The moment we wrapped up the workout, a female trainer slapped a price sheet into our hands and gave us a look that could cut glass. "Let me guess, you two came here to milk the freebies? Our private training sessions cost hundreds. They're not here for people like you to exploit." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We bought a perfectly valid trial class. How does that make us freeloaders? Get your manager." She rolled her eyes, acting like she was the rules. "Call whoever you want! The owner is my boyfriend, and he can't stand penny-pinchers who show up trying to mooch off his gym." Then, right in front of us, she called him—voice raised, dramatic, dripping with fake indignation. "Babe, there are two cheapskates in your gym demanding the manager. Come deal with them for me!"

After my best friend, Amber Stone, gets addicted to gambling, she excitedly tells me that she wants to take me to Las Gavas on a trip all of a sudden. "I just won a huge sum of money! I'll treat you to a night in a grand, luxurious hotel there!" But after the plane lands on the tarmac, Amber leads me into a private room tucked away in the depths of a casino. "The truth is, the casino's boss is looking for a woman with a crescent-shaped birthmark. If she's found, all debts will be cleared on the spot. "Don't you have one on your belly? I saw it when you were taking a shower in the past! I'm so sorry, bestie, but I really don't want to die!" While I get pinned on the couch by four men, I suddenly notice a child's doodle being hung on the wall. It was a doodle I had drawn for my father before I got kidnapped. He viewed it as his treasure and told me that he'd cherish it forever. I perk up immediately at the sight. A sneer appears on my face soon enough. Oh, Amber… You definitely have won this time. Unfortunately for you, you won't gain anything.

My family was supposed to be the richest of the land, yet I had to refund even a cheap delivery. Why? In my previous life, my housekeeper's daughter got her hands on a trading system. Every cent of money I spent would be hers. She started trying to guilt-trip me into donating to all the impoverished students in her school. It was charity anyway, so I signed a check worth 300 grand. The moment I did, that money became part of her savings, and the amount on my check was zero. Everyone called me names, called me a charlatan. Even the boy toy I spent good money on broke up with me. That girl used my money to donate to charities and became the kind and beautiful heiress. She told everyone I was the housekeeper's daughter instead. Furious, I grabbed my black card and started shopping like crazy. I wanted to prove I was the real heiress, but the balance in my account was cleared immediately. That girl then spent 1.2 million right away, like it was one dollar. She scoffed at me. "Don't try to act like you're rich when you're a broke loser. Your mother doesn't make enough as a housekeeper." The Internet decided to hunt me down. I could not handle the stress, and my mind broke. For some reason, my body withered away at a blistering rate. Before my father could save me, I drew my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to that fateful day. The day the housekeeper's daughter made me donate to the school.

I had been Silas Sterling's mate for seven years. We decided to get tattoos of each other's names. This was a Binding Tattoo that represented eternal love in the Moonstone Wolf pack. It had the power to bind mates eternally. When I got the tattoo, I realized the malicious words 'Public Male Amenity' had been tattooed on my chest. It chilled me to the bone. My adopted sister, Greta Pound, was the one who tattooed me. She covered her mouth as she laughed. "Don't you always enjoy attracting the attention of all the male werewolves by dressing so skimpily in the pack, Freya? I'm just helping you to publicize this." Greta was a female werewolf I had saved. Why was she treating me this way when I treated her like my sister? I grabbed her hair angrily, but Silas pushed me violently to the side as he pulled Greta protectively into his arms. He frowned as he berated me unhappily, "Greta was just joking with you. Why are you so mad about it?" I stared at his bare chest where my name should be tattooed. However, the name 'Greta' was there instead. She looked up at me from Silas' arms and smiled innocently yet tauntingly at me. "Silas said our names rhymed, Freya, so I played a joke by tattooing my name on him. You aren't mad about this, are you?"

My dormmate invites me to a college mate's engagement party. I choose an expensive tailor-made gown for the occasion. When I arrive at the hotel, I see several of my former classmates are already there. Everyone looks like they're doing well—they're wearing expensive clothing. Someone is even wearing something from a luxury brand. As soon as I enter the private room, a familiar classmate rolls her eyes at me. "Look at who it is—the woman who was once the most outstanding student in our class. You're dressed so plainly for such an important occasion." Everyone is circled around the classmate who's wearing something from a luxury brand. They ignore me. Only our former class monitor clinks glasses with me and consoles me softly. "It's good enough that you're here. You're dressed plainly, but don't give up. You'll succeed one day." I sip my wine and smile. "My outfit may not be too opulent, but it's an expensive, tailor-made piece. It's 100% handcrafted by a master designer."

Jack Cooke—my husband, who'd never so much as scrambled an egg—suddenly went full kitchen freak. He bought a ton of pots and spatulas, then spent all day just... polishing them. When I called him out, he shrugged. "I like things clean. That a crime now?" Behind him? A mountain of dirty socks. Then it got weirder. He dragged all the kitchen stuff into our bedroom. At night, he'd get weird with a dishcloth. Like, disturbingly weird. I was done. I asked for a divorce. Jack stormed into a private dining room and shredded the papers right in front of our investors. "You're seriously ending our marriage over this? Kinda dramatic, don't you think?" I didn’t blink. “I gave up my spot for your pots and pans. A little thanks wouldn’t kill you.”

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

And just like every cliche love story, their's, also began in a marriage of convenience. But wait---there's more to it. ************ Rowan Yasir Dela Cruz is looking for a woman who has the Rousso mafia mark, but little did he know; he had already known her for a long time. He even married her. He was just too dumb not to notice her. (Rowan Yasir Dela Cruz and Avyanna Cabrera story) This is a work of fiction. The names, places, businesses and events mentioned in the story are only used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events are purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved 2022 PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

After the Covenant Gala, Mother handed me a list. The names of every vampire at the banquet. I was to choose a blood-bound mate. This time, I didn't choose Damon Blackwood. I didn't choose anyone on her list. I chose Caspian Blackwood. Damon’s ancestor. The true Monarch of the Blackwood clan, slumbering for centuries. Mother’s jaw dropped. Everyone knew I’d spent centuries chasing Damon. But they didn't know the truth of my last life. After our blood bond, he refused my touch, my bed, my very existence. I told myself he was consumed by Covenant affairs. When no heir came, I blamed myself. Then I found it. The truth. It had always been her. From the very beginning. My sister, Delia. He never came home because the sight of me repulsed him. But this time, as Caspian and I stood at the altar, our hands clasped to seal our bond… Damon snapped.