Rhoma Irama Gala Gala Lirik

In my previous life, my brother Elliot Quinn's close female friend, Ava Sutton, told him she wanted to camp on the mountaintop and watch the stars. Wanting privacy, he took all the bodyguards from home with him. Unexpectedly, the rival whom Elliot had once humiliated took the opportunity to break into the house seeking revenge. My pregnant sister-in-law fought to protect me with everything she had, while my three-year-old nephew got hurt badly trying to save me. I called Elliot over and over, begging him to come home. Knowing that the situation at home was urgent, he had no choice but to leave Ava Sutton behind and rush back. Elliot's rival was captured, but from the mountaintop came terrible news. Ava had vanished after sending her last message. "I know your sister and wife have been waiting for me to die. Well, they got what they wanted." Elliot coldly deleted the message and told me not to overthink it. Afterward, Dad punished him, and he lost control of the family business. But after the corporate gala, while I was in the backyard, Elliot killed me mercilessly. His face was cold and cruel as he said, "You're the one who made me come back. That's why Ava died. Go and make amends to her!" When I open my eyes again, the front gate of the villa echoes with the voice of Elliot's rival.

I was chosen to be the fiancée of Lorenzo, the Mafia’s heir. But at a family gala, Lorenzo was openly pursued by Chiara, the daughter of an arms dealer. Chiara wasn’t like the other rule-abiding debutantes.She tore through the streets in a modified sports car, used a military-grade combat knife to cut her cigars, and drank the harshest whiskey neat.There was an untamed wildness about her, a fire Lorenzo couldn’t look away from. He complained to the family elders, “How can a woman like that possibly be our Madre and run this entire family?” His words dripped with disdain for her recklessness, yet his eyes were glued to her, tracking her every move as she raised her glass. Then, on Lorenzo’s birthday, he announced his intention to make Chiara his mistress. Chiara refused.”The women of my family are wives, never mistresses.And my husband’s heart must belong only to me.” Lorenzo came to me, his voice hesitant.”Alessia, it’s just a title.I need you to give it to Chiara.Please? She doesn’t understand our family’s traditions, and she’s making a scene about marrying me.We just need to pacify her for now.Even if she marries me, you will still be the one to manage the family’s affairs.” As I stood trying on my wedding gown, a sharp crystal bead on the bodice pierced my finger.A single drop of blood bloomed against the pure white satin. The dress was ruined, but the wedding would go on. Since he chose someone else to be his wife, I will become his Madre.

I stared at the Vercetti marriage contract my father pushed across the table. Without hesitation, I wrote my half-sister’s name, Demi, and slid it back. My father froze. Then his eyes lit up with ridiculous excitement, like he’d just won the lottery. "How can you give such a perfect chance to your sister?" Last life, my marriage was a joke for everyone around me. I was the red-haired, untamed little witch who dared to climb into the orbit of Cassian Vercetti, heir and leader of the old-blood Vercetti crime family. I was never perfect nor obedient. He loved goddess gowns. I wore mini skirts and danced on tables. He demanded missionary, traditional, orderly intimacy. I wanted to climb on top, ride him, lose myself completely. At a gala, society wives laughing at my hair, my dress, my “wildness.” I thought he would at least pretend to defend me. He didn’t. “Forgive her. She’s not…properly trained.” Trained. Like a dog. I spent my entire last life suffocating under his rules, bending myself bloody to fit the shape he wanted, until the night our house caught fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I learned of the arranged marriage. I looked at the contract in front of me. This time? I think the nightclub boys suits me better. But the moment Cassian realized the bride wasn’t me, he shattered every rule he’d ever lived by.

Natalie Evans was the perfect wife—loyal, elegant, and devoted to her husband, Adrian Sinclair, the cold and untouchable CEO of Sinclair Enterprises. Everyone believed she was out of her league, merely a trophy wife, tolerated but never truly loved. When he paraded another woman into their home once more, she had enough. Without a scene, without a tear, she signed the divorce papers. The world assumed she was just playing hard to get, that she would come crawling back in days. Adrian believed it too. But when Natalie vanished from the social circles of the elite, only to return months later as a force to be reckoned with—brilliant, ruthless, and untouchable—she shattered every expectation. With an empire of her own, the once-mocked woman became a sensation. Those who belittled her scrambled for her favor, and her enemies found themselves falling one by one. When news spread that she was considering a new father for her daughter—something she had kept secret from the world—a storm of influential men stepped up. A genius scientist, a financial tycoon, and even a world-renowned actor vied for her attention. But Adrian wasn’t ready to let go. Cornering her at a gala, his voice was dark with suspicion. “Your child is mine, isn't it?” Natalie’s cold smile sent chills through him. “That’s none of your business. Ex-husband, step aside.” Now, Adrian would do whatever it took to reclaim what he lost, even if it meant bringing the world to its knees.

I was the fiancee of Lucian Veris, the celebrated Swan Prince, who had offered up the principal role in exchange for my hand. On stage, he was proud and untouchable, yet he surrendered completely to the choreography I created for "Eternal Crown." When I came back after three years in Valmont, I discovered that the understudy who mirrored me had already claimed our private rehearsal hall. At the company's welcome gala, Lucian abandoned a room full of sponsors just to chase after the crying understudy. From behind the velvet curtain, I overheard words he had never spoken to me. "Elara, I chose you only because you reminded me of her. I was looking for a replacement. But you were different. Your choreography captivated me—more than she ever could. Just make sure she never finds out until the closing night of 'Eternal Crown.'" Then came the muffled sounds of their entanglement, followed by his whispered vow. "I'll give you the principal's place." Right there, in that same room, he had once held my hand and sworn that I, Astraea Lynelle, would be his only soulmate in this lifetime. I turned and walked away, the sharp echo of my pointe shoes striking with finality. Back in the dressing room, I dialed his greatest rival, Caelan Thorne. "Mr. Thorne," I said evenly, "I accept your offer to join your company. And one more thing—prepare a gift for me. I intend to turn Lucian's grand finale into the most spectacular downfall the art world has ever seen."

It only took a moment to burn everything down. For five years, Isla Merrick played the part—soft-spoken wife, graceful hostess, quiet shadow to Callum Braxton’s powerful presence. She became what the world expected: dutiful, polished, harmless. Then came his cold declaration: “Let’s get divorced.” No emotion. No explanation. Just a clean cut—like a business deal. But Callum never knew she had been waiting for that moment. Planning for it. Beneath the composed surface, Isla had been sharpening the edges he once dulled. Because Isla Merrick had a past—and it wasn’t the scandal the tabloids spun. It was deeper. Sharper. Before she was Mrs. Braxton, she trained at Summerdell—an elite, off-the-record martial arts academy. Whispers of crime and prison blurred the truth, but Isla stayed silent. She had bigger plans. Three years later, she returns—not to reconcile, but to reintroduce herself. Isla Merrick now runs a luxury fashion empire, famous for turning scandal into power. And when she steps into the country’s most elite gala, draped in elegance and authority, Callum barely recognizes her. But she recognizes him. Before he can speak, a figure joins her—Dorian Kane. Ruthless investor. Public obsession. His hand rests on Isla’s waist like it belongs there. “Just so we’re clear, Braxton,” Dorian says coolly. “She’s not yours. Not anymore.” For Callum, it’s the beginning of a reckoning. For Isla, it’s the first breath of freedom. She isn’t the woman who once begged to be loved. She’s the woman who knows she never needed to be. And this time, she’s not just rewriting the story—she’s owning the ending.

Zeni seorang mahasiswa tingkat akhir di universitas ternama, bergulat dengan berbagai aktivitas organisasi yang menonjolkan sisi kemandirian, berani bersikap tegas terhadap keadaan yang terbatas. Terputusnya akses biaya hidup menyebabkan Zeni harus memutar otak untuk tetap melanjutkan kuliahnya di tengah keterpurukan kondisi jiwa yang memaksa terjun kedalam konflik kepentingan dengan status anak angkat. Benturan kehidupan realistis dengan lingkungan dinamika kampus yang idealis menjadikan Zeni tumbuh menjadi sosok seorang gadis tangguh. Menghadapi intimidasi saat menjalani tugas pengabdian masyarakat dengan irama bumbu konflik perseteruan dan nuansa cinta bertepuk sebelah tangan yang menumbuhkan persahabatan. Terperangkap saat mengikuti aksi demontrasi mahasiswa menyebabkan terbengkalainya tugas akhir kuliah yang membawa Zeni bertemu dengan seorang mafia yang berkedok sebagai seorang dokter. Akankah Zeni akan terlepas atau bahkan terjerat dengan belenggu cinta dari sang mafia.

“We signed the divorce papers six months ago. Tonight I’m wearing the lingerie he bought me on our honeymoon…and I’m not leaving his penthouse until he remembers why he put a ring on it.” Lila Grant never begged,not when Ethan built his empire on her late-night sketches. Not when he shut her out with silence colder than the marble floors of their Manhattan tomb. Not when she scrawled her signature on the line that severed them. But six months of celibate nights and whiskey-soaked memories have carved her hollow. One look at him across a crowded gala with his new fiancée draped on his arm like a cheap trophy and something primal snaps inside her. She kisses him in front of the cameras. Claims the mouth that once whispered mine against her throat and then she issues the ultimatum that detonates their carefully buried war: Thirty nights. His Hamptons fortress. One bed. No safe words. No surrender. If either of them says the word divorce, the other walks away with everything,money, pride, the last shred of sanity. Ethan never lost until Lila walks back in wearing red silk and the scent of ruin. What begins as a vicious game of who-blinks-first spirals into something darker. Jealousy that tastes like blood on the tongue. Sex that leaves bruises shaped like vows. He wants to punish her for leaving. She wants to burn the memory of his touch out of her skin. Both get exactly what they came for,until the one thing neither planned explodes between them: She’s pregnant. And the man who swore he’d never beg is on his knees

Morí el día de mi cumpleaños, pero ni mis papás ni mi esposo se dieron cuenta. Todos estaban de lleno en los preparativos de la fiesta de cumpleaños de mi hermana gemela, Alicia Gonzáles. Mientras todos la rodeaban para escoger su vestido de gala, a mí me habían amarrado de pies y manos y me habían arrojado al sótano. Con las últimas fuerzas que me quedaban y con los dedos ya torcidos, logré marcar el 9395, la señal que Sergio Sandarti y yo habíamos acordado para pedir ayuda en caso de peligro. Nunca imaginé que llegaría el día de tener que usarla de verdad. Pero Sergio no me creyó. Respondió con frialdad: “¿De verdad haces tanto drama nada más porque no te llevamos a comprar un vestido nuevo? El del año pasado todavía te queda bien. Nos vemos más tarde en la fiesta, deja de hacer escándalo”. Él no sabía que mi vestido ya lo había destrozado Alicia. Tampoco sabía que, en cuanto colgué la llamada, yo ya estaba muerta. Así que no asistí a la fiesta de cumpleaños. Pero cuando todos vieron el regalo que yo había preparado con anticipación para Alicia, se volvieron locos.

“I-I was in the shower then I got horny while thinking of you and started fingering myself until I came,” I said.  “I think I have become a nymphomaniac because of you, Donovan.” “Do you know what that is?” He chuckled, to which I nodded eagerly. “You are cute. Well, if you must know, buttercup,” He began, stroking my cheek. “I wasn't entirely pulling your legs that day. I want to fuck you, Emily. Ever since I got those pictures, I haven't stopped picturing you taking my cock in various positions.” “Really?” I croaked, arousal evident in my voice as I splayed my hands on his chest. + On their third anniversary, Emily Wright’s boyfriend coldly ends things between them. Heartbroken, she goes home, gets drunk, and takes lewd pictures of herself to feel better. By accident, she sends the pictures to the CEO of her company, Donovan Coleman. On discovering her mistake, she’s appalled but decides to put on a brave face. However, she’s further horrified to discover that Donovan is her ex’s brother, who unknown to her, was intrigued by her at first sight. An heated encounter with Donovan stirs up illicit desire within Emily that both confuses and excites her. A week later at a charity gala, they end up spending the night together. Throwing caution to the wind, Emily continues fooling around with Donovan. What happens when she falls in love with him? Will she end things before they spiral out of control, or will she choose pleasure over letting go?