Quotes About Liars And Karma Novels & Stories

The she-wolf handling our trade route is new. And she demands freebies with every single deal. "I'll take this shipment of Moonstone. Throw in an extra two kilos. Or my Alpha will want answers." "Freebies aren't in the contract," I said, frowning. "Are you always this stingy? A little goodwill builds empires, you know." I couldn't be bothered to argue. I gave her a little extra each time, just to shut her up. But she got greedy. Every deal, she asked for more. Until today. She finished her inspection, then turned to leave without paying. I immediately blocked her path. "You haven't paid." She rolled her eyes. "I've counted. We've made fifty deals. Even supermarkets do 'buy ten, get one free.' Can't you spare me this one? Don't be so petty!" I almost laughed. Me? Petty? This is a multi-million dollar deal. I kept my cool. "No means no." She slammed her hand on the table, her eyes wide. "What did you just say? My brother Jett is the Delta of our pack! You give this to me, or I'll have him tear a pathetic delivery grunt like you to shreds and kick you out of this territory!" Oh. She has no idea. I am the heir to the Red Rock Pack. Even their Alpha answers to my father.

The day my husband, Reece Malcolm, reached the pole for his polar expedition, his childhood sweetheart who was sent away reappeared in his bedroom. Everyone had kept it from me. Erica Lowell had been by his side day and night. Though Reece said he didn't want her there, he still allowed her to stay by his side for four years as his assistant. "You have to believe me, Lucy. There's nothing between Erica and me," he used to say. Always so sure. Always so convincing. But when he returned, it was with Erica in his arms—heavily pregnant. "She threatened to kill herself, Lucy. I didn't have a choice," he said. "The baby's coming. I need you to raise it. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." Four years. Four years of silence, of waiting alone in a house that never felt like home. Now, the lawyer is hired. The assets are tallied. The divorce papers are signed and sealed. I'm done.

My fiancé's first love was taking photos on a cliff before the landslide. To save her, he actually left me behind on the crumbling edge. I pleaded with him to save me. "Lucy isn't physically strong—she can't handle this alone. You've always been resilient. I'll get Lucy to safety first, then come back for you." Their silhouettes vanished over the ridge. After a brief commotion, everything went silent. Including me, with my freshly sprained ankle. When he saw the news of my death, he completely fell apart.

The scent of pine and damp earth clung to the air as the full moon created long shadows across the Ancient Clearing. Tonight, was supposed to be our marking ceremony, a sacred ritual binding Alpha Anderson and his chosen Luna before the eyes of the Frostmoon Pack. “My heart,” his gaze locked on Leah, who stood under the moonlight “has always belonged to another. My first love, the one whose spirit has been weakened by the venom of wolfsbane, is my Luna.” He drew Leah closer, his hand possessively circling her waist. Under the watchful gaze of the moon, he smiled. “Our traditions are clear,” he continued, “Only the woman who stands with me at this altar, witnessed by all, shall be my Luna. Though I had always thought that Irene was my mate which I mistakenly marked a time ago. But thanks to the goddess for making me see clearly before it was too late.” They exchanged vows beneath the trees, witnessed by the werewolves and the Moon Goddess. The silver crowns were placed, the ceremonial kiss sealed their bond. I stood hidden in the shadows of the surrounding forest. For twelve years, from the moment my wolf recognized his at eighteen until my thirtieth moon cycle, my love for Anderson had never changed. But his heart, it was clear, belonged to Leah. If that was the truth, then I would release him. He had never truly seen me, never truly cared. Yet, the act of my departure seemed to unravel him in ways I couldn’t understand.

I train so hard that even in my sleep, I recite medical formulas. At long last, victory is mine! I am the champion of the Healers' Competition. But just as they place the trophy in my hands, my twin sister, Sasha Flanders, strides onto the stage and snatches it away. With brazen conviction, she declares, "I'm the true champion! My sister swapped the competitor's information to steal this honor from me!" The audience gasps in an uproar. Before my stunned eyes, the judges revoke my title on the spot. I don't yet realize that this competition is no ordinary contest—it is the Alpha King Leonard Muller's secret trial, one that is meant to select his future Luna Queen. Rumor paints him as monstrous—hideous of face, bloodthirsty in nature, and treats women as nothing more than breeding machines. It is said this is why he has never taken a mate. His summons arrived this very night, commanding Sasha to attend the coronation ceremony as Luna Queen. My Beta fiance, Timothy Newsom, turns ashen with rage. The next day, Sasha comes to flaunt herself before me, her neck freshly marked, carrying Timothy's scent. "Oh, my poor sister. Your precious fiance marked me. What will you do now? You're turning 25 in three days. By our pack's law, if no one claims you, you'll be thrown to the impotent, deranged, and broken wolves no one else will have. You'll be worse than trash." Her shrill laughter cracks in my ears, squeezing the breath from my chest. But I will not let that break me. I went straight to my parents. "If Sasha dares not to be Luna Queen… then let me take her place."

My sister leaves some last words before committing suicide, and everyone who sees those words die. My grandmother is the first to go, and then my father. In the end, even my mother jumps off a 30-story building. The reporters fall over themselves trying to score an interview with me, and the police interrogate me. Countless people want to know what my sister's last words are. However, I keep my silence until my sister's tenth death anniversary. I see a figure before her grave, and I'm agitated beyond imagination. I know it's time for death to take me.

My cancer relapses in the middle of the night. I beg my husband to take me to the hospital, but he turns and leaves to be with his true love. Before leaving, he says, "Your acting is getting more believable." All I get in return for a decade of my love is a broken heart. Later, his true love gets in an accident and needs to be operated on. I decide to let go and give them the happy ending they always want, so I donate my heart to her. My husband has always detested me, but he loses his mind after my death.

As the youngest daughter of the powerful mafia family, the Blythes, I was spoiled the moment I was born. I had three older brothers who adored me. When I turned eighteen, our father was killed in a turf fight. The shock sent our mother into a rapid decline, and she passed away less than a week later. To avenge our father, my three brothers waged war against our enemies for three days. Though they emerged victorious, all three were critically wounded. My eldest brother, Damon Blythe, suffered a ruptured liver and was on the brink of death. Matt Blythe, my second brother, had severe kidney damage. Chris Blythe had lost too much blood and went into heart failure. I spent a fortune hiring the world’s top surgeons. They transplanted half of my liver to Damon, a kidney to Matt, and even gave my heart to Chris, replacing mine with a mechanical one. Thanks to the doctors’ skill, all three survived and went on to take over the Blythes’ empire. Five years later, they became infatuated with Sophia Foster, a poor but strong-willed intern. They even forced me to give up my last kidney to her. It was only after I had died on the operating table that they regretted what they had done.

Giorgo Romero, the Don of the Romero family, gets ambushed by a suicidal madman who has bombs strapped to him. When that happens, my husband, Fabio Lopez, and his troops have already gone to a fashion show with his childhood sweetheart, Reina Digiorno, so that they can protect her there. Instead of pressing the signal button on my ring, I launch myself at Giorgo despite being heavily pregnant. Just like that, I'm able to protect him from the explosion with my body. In my previous life, I had pressed the button. Fabio had ditched Reina in favor of hurrying back to the scene to save Giorgo's life. Because of his contribution, he gets elevated to the position of Underboss. But Reina got mad at Fabio for leaving her in advance, resulting in her crossing the highway out of pure spite. That was how she got hit by a car and died. While Fabio didn't say anything, he chose to send me to an underground auction house on the day I went into labor. "The Don had so many soldati protecting him! Why did you force me to come back in the first place? Isn't it because you just want the glory of being the Underboss's wife? "If it wasn't for you, Reina wouldn't have died! You must go through a thousand times the suffering she did!" I could only watch as the guests bid for my organs one by one. Not even my newborn's umbilical cord could be spared from the auction. In the end, I died from an infection that had occurred while my organs were being removed. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Giorgo gets ambushed.

In my past life, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Kimberly Thatcher, claimed to be Lady Luck. She insisted on handing out sachets to keep our team safe for a hike. I, Priscilla Jensen, caught the scent and realized the sachets were stuffed with herbs that would attract wolves. So, I stepped in to stop her, saving everyone from an attack. But Kimberly thought I was looking down on her sachets, and that I was targeting her on purpose. Though she was the leader, she stormed off from the group in anger. We searched the forest under the raging storm. In the end, someone broke a leg, someone else was strangled by poisonous vines, and my shoulder was torn open. By dawn, we found Kimberly's corpse at the bottom of a valley. … On the seventh day after her death, her memorial service became an ambush. While everyone mourned for her, their eyes were fixed on me. My boyfriend, Fabian Lowell, was the first to lash out. He ripped off his bandage, revealing his wound. "If you hadn't stopped Kimberly from giving us those sachets, none of this would have happened! How dare you show up to her memorial service?" he yelled. Everyone turned to glare daggers at me. Suddenly, someone shouted, "It's all your fault! You're the reason we ended up like this! Go to hell!" In the next second, they hurled a pot of boiling stew at me. Then they set the private room ablaze and burned me alive. … When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of the hike.