Regret After Divorce: I Lost The Best Her

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

My body has a special nourishing effect. However, both of my marriage engagements were called off. My first fiance was a religious man who broke his celibacy to make love to me. He canceled the engagement because he couldn't forgive himself. My second fiance was my childhood friend. He made love to me every night. Then, he apologized to me and said I couldn't satisfy him. When I was about to take my life, I saw them acting out a pure love story at my friend's bedside. "Sophia, I won't force you if you don't want to do it." "For you, I'm fine with keeping our relationship platonic. I don't mind if we never do it. I can hold myself back!" They treat her gently, as if she will shatter with a single kiss. I put the noose away and call my father. "Dad, I'm not against it anymore. You can send me to the son of the Lowell family to treat his impotence."

My husband, Clement Norman, promised to make up for our missed honeymoon. It was five years late, but I was still excited. I got ready and really looked forward to it. But right before we boarded the plane, I realized there was someone extra in our group—Clement's childhood friend, Madison Bowen. He explained half-heartedly, "Madison's never been abroad before. I figured we could bring her along." I wasn't thrilled, but when I spoke up, he made it sound like I was being dramatic. "Are you jealous of our relationship because you didn't grow up with a proper family? I see her as a sister. You wouldn't get it—you grew up an orphan." I chose to stay quiet, not wanting to ruin our honeymoon. But we encountered an avalanche halfway through the trip. My leg got stuck deep in the snow, and I couldn't move. And the first thing Clement did was grab Madison's hand and run. He didn't even look back.

Hannah was a troubled soul, her past horrors have molded her into a sad, melancholic girl. She has been through a lot of painful stuff that she decided to end her life. As she lay down a bathtub filled with her blood, she did not realize that her death was just the beginning of her journey. A series of mysterious occurrences take place after her death. It all starts with her step-brother Matthew's discovery of a letter from Hannah. Her vengeful spirit seems to live on to haunt those who have wronged her. Devon the love of her life, Cassidy her best friend who betrayed her, her mother Lucy who bore Hannah with her affair with Garret, and Brandon Johnson her dad who has kept a dark secret involving Hannah. One by one, page by page of each letter the truth unfolds and her hauntings may not be the real horror in this story. This is not just a horror story but a twisted love story that transcends life and death.

I wasn’t supposed to sleep with him. I am straight or maybe was... Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to meet him until one drunken night changed everything. I had no idea who he was. He had no idea I was the brother of the woman he was about to be engaged to. We touched. We kissed. I let him take everything from me. And then I woke up… and realized he wasn’t just any guy. He was Dante Cruz. The heir. The man I'm now forced to work for. Now, I’m stuck pretending like last night never happened. He’s engaged to my sister. And I’m still trying to remember how to breathe every time he looks at me like he wants to taste me all over again. I said it was a mistake. He said I didn’t stop him. One of us is lying.

The daughter of my father's first love suffered from heatstroke because she was left in the car, so he tied me up in a fit of anger and locked me in the car boot. He looked at me with utter disgust and said, "I don't have a vicious daughter like you. Stay here and reflect on yourself." I begged him, apologized to him, and pleaded for him to let me out, but all I got in return was his ruthless order. "Unless she dies, no one is allowed to let her out." The car was parked in the garage. No one could hear me no matter how much I screamed for help. Seven days later, he finally remembered me and decided to let me out. However, he had no idea that I had already died in that trunk and could never wake up again.

Run, Run, RUN. Don’t stop. The night was falling and like the creatures of the day, I needed to hide. My heart is thundering in my chest, echoing the sounds of the war that rage from the fields of my once loved home. That was before the coven came. Surprising us and taking my home and pack. The attack happened so quickly that no one was ready. We had no warning and after hours of waiting I was found. I had to run. Don't stop running. “CRACK” the current of magic shoots by and hits the tree to my left, my bare feet crunching the earth hard and fast. My small heart fluttering faster than a hummingbird's wings, my once sparkling beautiful dress is no more. It’s tattered, dirty, and torn. The edges burnt to a crisp and coated in blood from bodies of the battlefield that I raced away from. “Come here little wolfie,” a harsh raspy voice calls out cutting through the trees I hide quickly behind a tree to take cover to breathe, “I just want a little chat!” He calls singsong like, taunting me. He wants to find me to kill me. Ducking further behind my tree I hold my breath, my young body shaking with so much force my bones ache. Holding my breath and closing my eyes hoping for safety that surely won’t come. At only 11 years of age, I can’t fight this grown warlock... he will surely kill me like he did my parents... “Wolfie princess, where are you?” He mimics the rhythm of a child’s tune, as if I’d listen. Closing my eyes tighter I don’t want to die. I’m too young. My mind is racing, and my hearts bound t....

Grace read the content of the tweet with trembling lips, and a hoarse voice almost choking, or did she know why she could be like that, there was clearly a feeling of horror that ran through her body as she read the tweet. The tweet is "Thank you to my friends who have cursed at me, hopefully we will meet again letter. The path i take is God's way." For a moment the were silent, no one dared to make a sound. Their lips seemed to be sewn up hard to open, they look each other, it wasn't the vengeful it used to be, but one filled with horror. As if something was telling them that a terrible event had happend, let's just say it was a hunch.

Damien, a confident man rumored to be arrogant had sought freedom against his father's objection like a deer in a desert. His father, the Alpha of the Dark hounds pack, had wanted more from him and for him. Suffocating Damien with expectations and rules leaves him no option but to be rebellious and seek a better purpose in life instead. He finds himself being attracted to a human girl but no matter how hard he tries to hide it, his father found out and threatened to make life a living hell for Ariel if he didn't accept the marriage with Mia. Ariel, a daring and sarcastic woman longs for a happy life after her dad ran away. She ends up getting attracted to her Boss. With the strange events happening ever since she got involved with Damien, she soon realized there is more to him than she knows. On her quest for answers, she discovers untold secrets about her existence. Later on, Damien discovers Ariel's true identity and also a prophecy that can destroy them. He realized there is more to Ariel than meets the eye. What could it be? Can the both of them fight to protect their love despite the many challenges facing them? Read to find out

Five years after my death, my daughter, Emma, dialed Xander Green’s number. She cautiously asked, "Do you like my mom?" She was trying to get an answer to the question I once wrote in my diary. "Xander, do you like me?" Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end sneered, "Did your mom put you up to this? Using her own daughter like a pawn? What an unfaithful woman! She’s already with your dad, yet still trying to rekindle things with me?"