Really Scary Story

When Beryl were heartbroken finding her boyfriend cheating on her with her step-mum, The triplet billionaires appeared, claiming to be her mates. They fall for her, hard. She slept with one of them. But she doesn’t know whom. Worse, she’s pregnant. She: Who’s my baby’s father?! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Already heartbroken when her father died, Beryl was devastated when she found her boyfriend f*ucking her step-mum at the parking lot of the funeral. What’s more shocking was the billionaire Armand Lupine’s sudden appearance and his hot triplets claiming to be her mate. And what is mate anyway? Forced to live with Armand and the triplets, Beryl uncovered the realm of the werewolf's world. Though Armand cherishes her, the triplets, star hockey player Nicholas, world-famous painter Brian and rock star Cheney always took every opportunity to make fun of her. Are they really Beryl’s mates? With them around, can Beryl return to the ordinary human life as she wished?

My brother-in-law, Benjamin Fallow, got trapped in a deep pit, so I grabbed some ropes and risked my life to climb down and pull him out. Just after I tied the rope around his waist, the line went slack and we both came crashing down. When I looked up, I couldn't believe my eyes. My wife, Celeste Fallow, had cut the rope. Meanwhile, her childhood friend, Vincent Jameson, grinned and egged her on. "Do it." Black-clad bodyguards started shoveling sand into the hole, trying to bury us alive. I grabbed the walkie-talkie and screamed up at her, "Celeste, your brother and I are still down here!" She sneered back. "Three years ago, during the quake, you left Vincent's brother trapped under the rubble for five days while you saved others. Now it's time to pay what you owe." Vincent shed crocodile tears and crowed, "Celeste, thanks to you, my brother's revenge is finally complete." With the sand already up to our ankles, I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Celeste Fallow, your brother is really down here with me!"

By chance, I stumbled across a trending post from our company's finance department while scrolling through social media. "That idiot in Sales. I just wanted to put my bar receipt under his name for reimbursement and he refused! If he won't let me claim it, then no one gets reimbursed! This time I'll make sure he learns what happens when you offend Finance!" The comments section was full of complaints and criticism, but the original poster didn't seem bothered in the slightest. The tone was arrogant, almost smug. "What's there to be scared of? Finance is the lifeline of any company! Would the boss really risk offending the backbone of the company over some replaceable sales guy? No way that's ever happening!" I stared at the all-too-familiar face in the profile picture and let out a silent, cold laugh. Blocking my reimbursement? Fine. This time, I'd like to see for myself what would actually happen if I mess with Finance.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

Three years after graduation, I was waiting tables at a restaurant when I happened to run into some of my old classmates having a private dinner there. The moment they saw me carrying trays, they burst out laughing. My old rival Elliot sneered that I was a useless nobody, then pulled out 50 bucks and tossed it in front of me, telling me to lick the food scraps off his shoe. "Clean my shoe, and that fifty's yours!" Even my ex-girlfriend joined in to humiliate me. "I can't believe this is what you've become three years after graduation, Chase. Good thing I dumped you when I did—I'd hate to be the girlfriend of some broke loser." Elliot and a few others pinned me to the floor, forcing me to kneel and even bark like a dog. My ex clapped her hands, laughing. "Chase, you really do look like a dog when you're on your knees." Then, the restaurant manager rushed in. The moment he saw me, his face went pale with shock. "M–Mr. Levine… are you all right, sir?" Blood dripping down my forehead, I pointed at everyone in that room. "No one leaves this room tonight."

Abducted at the young age of 10, groomed by a mistress specialized in raising girls for special duties and catering to needs of sick depraved men, Isabella Blanchet had her life planned out for her before she got the chance to dream and make wishes. That was until she crossed paths with him, Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of the Moretti family. A legend to some, a scary bedtime story to get children in bed and a nightmare to all who crossed him. Some would go as far as calling him the boogeyman. Would he succeed in sinking her into the darkness or will she be the only ray light in his dark world?

It was almost New Year. I had just withdrawn money from the bank when I noticed that the amount on my passbook didn't match the cash in my hand. I counted carefully—my passbook showed a different figure than the five thousand dollars I was holding. Frustrated, I turned and went back to the counter to find the teller who had handled my transaction. Clutching the receipt, I tried to be polite. "Excuse me, I think there might be a mistake with this transaction." Instantly, she snapped, pointing her finger at my nose. "Don't you know that once you leave the counter, we are not responsible for any discrepancies?" I waved my hands, trying to explain. "No, wait, look again. I clearly withdrew five thousand dollars, but on my passbook, it shows…" She cut me off impatiently. "When you filled out the form, it was all right there. Once you leave the counter, it's not our problem. You signed the form yourself, confirming everything. Are we supposed to correct it every time someone claims a mistake after leaving the bank?" I froze. No wonder she kept repeating that the bank isn't responsible after leaving the counter. She thought I had come back to ask for more money. What I was really trying to explain was simple: I withdrew five thousand, yet my passbook showed that I deposited five thousand.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

In my dormitory, there was a poor student. With all the good intentions in the world, my roommates and I were eager to help her, not realizing how much our help would cost. She wasn't impressed by the hairdryer we offered, insisting on borrowing a branded one instead. The skincare products we gave her? They were applied to her feet. And, as if that wasn't enough, she specifically demanded luxury face cream. One day, I lent her my tablet to look up some information, and to my surprise, she secretly opened up my gaming app, spent all the diamonds and reward tickets I had saved for half a year, and left me empty-handed. When I asked her to pay me back, she turned the tables and posted a public message online, accusing me. "I'm just a poor student from the countryside, never played games before. Are the materials in the game really worth this much?" Before I knew it, the comment section was flooded with criticisms of me. In a fit of frustration, I fired back with a post of my own, throwing her into the spotlight. "Well, I suppose you've never tasted the bitterness of being cyberbullied, have you?"

Right before the last full-length practice exam ahead of the SAT, my boyfriend, Blake Romero, who had always ranked in the top ten, somehow ended up with a score of zero. His eyes were red as he clung to me, his voice shaking while he said he had developed severe test anxiety. "Samantha, there's no way I'll get in this year. Can you stay back and retake the year with me? I can't do this without you." Looking at how pale he was, I almost gave in. On my way to the school clinic to grab him some meds to calm his nerves, I accidentally overheard him talking to a girl from a poor family. "Blake, what if Samantha finds out you're lying to her?" His voice turned soft, almost indulgent. "Relax. She loves me so much that she would give up anything for me. Even if she finds out, so what? Besides, her family's loaded. Losing a year won't matter to her. Arrington University only has two spots this year. As long as Samantha doesn't take the exam, those spots are ours." Standing outside the door, I felt as if I had just had a bucket of ice poured over me. So this was his plan! He was willing to ruin my future just to clear the way for the girl he really cared about. What he didn't realize was that Arrington University had only ever been my backup, something I chose just to stay by his side. Without him dragging me down, I could aim for something better.