Proof Of Life After Death Novels & Stories

After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base. After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair. But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out." Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media. 'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.' Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield. Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment." In the end, I swallowed my anger. That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up. When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters. The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder." I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything. Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home. Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving. This time, I was not staying.

The Alpha I loved and his powerful father, the Lycan King, were both drugged with a Heat Potion. Without a second thought, I climbed into the King's bed. In my last life, I was forced to be Damien's cure. To mate with him. To bear his pups. But he spent every night at her grave, mourning his "true love," Isabella. He never touched me again. Five years into our mating, after an argument, he shifted into his wolf form. He tore me and my pups limb from limb. He was convinced I'd used some dirty trick to mark him, keeping him from his true love. He believed it was my fault Isabella left, heartbroken, and died in an "accident." When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the night they were drugged. This time, I will not be the cure. I will be the Queen.

Three years ago, Emily married Aaron out of gratitude. She truly believed he respected her, cared for her, maybe even loved her. It wasn’t until later that she realized—he had never really let go of his ex. And the craziest part? She looked just like her. Time and time again, he left her behind for that woman. And finally, Emily understood something. A thousand days and nights couldn’t warm a heart that was never hers to begin with. All along, he had only been looking through her… searching for someone else in her shadow. If he didn’t love her, then so be it. She was done trying. But after the divorce, he came back—saying she was the one he truly cared about all along. His eyes full of regret, chasing after what he lost— But Emily just laughed. She wasn’t that quiet, invisible wife from three years ago anymore.

The day my parents divorced, the rain wouldn’t stop. Two agreements sat on the table. One meant staying in the old Eastwood District with my gambling-addicted father, Alexander Clark, drowning in debt. The other meant leaving for Silverstrand Coast with my mother, Charlotte Hayes, who was remarrying into wealth. In my last life, my younger brother, Mathias Clark, cried and clung to Mom while I quietly packed my things and chose to stay with Dad. Later, he quit gambling and struck it rich during a redevelopment boom. He poured everything into raising me right. Meanwhile, Mathias was trapped in his stepfather’s house—isolated, controlled, never allowed outside—until depression took his life. But this time, everything changed. Mathias snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go. "Tyler, I feel bad for Dad. You go enjoy the good life over there. I’ll stay and take care of him for you." Dad froze for a moment, then smiled with relief and patted his shoulder. I said nothing. I simply picked up the train ticket to the coast. What he didn’t know was that… In my last life, the reason Dad was able to quit gambling was because I had a brain tumor. I worked myself to the brink of coughing up blood just to repay his debts. I traded my life… for his redemption.

On my 50th wedding anniversary, I took my worn, crumbling marriage certificate to City Hall to renew it. The clerk glanced at it—and froze. “This certificate is fake. Our records show you’ve never been married.” I stared. “Impossible. I’ve been married to Damien Slater for fifty years.” The clerk pulled up his file. “Well…Yes, Mr. Slater is married—but his wife’s name is Vanessa Grant.” Vanessa. His widowed sister-in-law. A military doctor who’d spent decades living among the troops. My hands shook as I returned home and confronted Damien. He didn’t even try to deny it. “I’ve treated you well all these years. Isn’t that enough? Vanessa is my true love. I only ever wanted her—our children, our life.” My son counseled me and said, “To spare your feelings, my parents kept it a secret their whole lives. You’re getting old now. What more do you want?” Only then did I learn the truth. The child I had raised with my own hands was never mine by blood. Decades ago, Vanessa and I gave birth on the same day. To ensure her child would grow up with intellect, privilege, and a future that I could provide, Damien switched our children. My own son? Damien drowned him in the pond the moment he drew breath. And I—fool that I was—raised Vanessa’s boy as my own. I even got him all the way to Claremont University. The truth broke me, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again—I was back. Back to the day I went into labor.

“Honey, let’s make a baby together so that you won’t leave me.” I resisted, but my husband ignored it and forced himself onto me. After that, I did it with him 520 times, each time a nightmare for me. Even when he was on business trips, he had to monitor my every move via video, terrified that I would run away. However, one day, I received an invitation to an art exhibition. The intimate gestures between my husband and me had been turned into works of art, filling the entire gallery. My husband held a young female intern by the waist, his gaze sweeping over me with indifference. “Two years ago, you insisted on going against Tiara over an art collectible and suppressed her during the auction, spending lavishly just to humiliate her.” “Now there are 520 art pieces here, an exhibition showcasing your disgrace. If you don’t want them falling into someone else’s hands, you’ll need to bid on them one by one.”

We’d been together for seven years, but during that entire time, my fiancée rejected the idea of getting married ninety-nine times, all because of a male intern. The first time, she canceled our vacation at the last minute, saying the intern was stuck on a night shift and afraid of the dark. She got on a flight that very night and rushed back to the hospital. The second time, we were already halfway through the doors of the courthouse to get our marriage registered. But just then, she got word that the intern had collapsed from exhaustion. Without a second thought, she left me standing alone in the snow for the entire day. After that, it became a pattern. Every time we were together, the intern would find some excuse to pull her away. Eventually, I made up my mind to let go. I stopped dreaming about a happy marriage with her. However, just when I announced I was transferring to another city, she broke down, begging me, almost hysterically, not to leave.

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.

“Daddy… Fuck me daddy… I know daddy wants my pussy…. Yeah daddy harder… Oh..” I moaned tightly, biting my bottom lips. “So close.” I whispered, twirling my other hand on my breast, pinching and swirling my thumb against my dark buds. It was fucking sweet having pleasuring myself but I wondered what it would actually feel like having daddy’s cock inside of me instead. My eyes had immediately seized upward, and my hues widened with shock, snapping at the sight of my father figure who stood unwavering at the door. My heart skipped a beat that I swallowed harshly having pushed the words out my mouth. “Daddy….” my eyes leaned on him, watching as his dark shadow loomed further inside my room, and he pushed the door closed from behind with my breath which had halted. My leg involuntarily squeezed themselves to together, and another pleasure weaved its way into my body, maybe it was actually due to shock. What was he fucking doing here? “Princess where you fantasizing about me?” *** Roses weren’t red, neither were violent blue to me, all I wanted was pleasure but it all went too far….. The moment I saw how gracious my stepdad appeared, I had made it my mission to seduce him. Unfortunately what I didn’t know was that I was a naïve nineteen years old who was being used. He turned to a monster, and he made it his own life mission to torment my existence.

"Let's renew the contract. Be my bedmate whenever and wherever I want." Lydia had finally made it through her one-year marriage contract and was officially divorced, so she should be free to live her life as usual. But the opposite was true. Lydia became entangled again with Reino, her playboy ex-contract husband. Reino Andersen never saw his ex-wife as a woman worthy of his company. But after the events of that night, the body that had always been insulted by her thinness became his opium.