Roman Too Lit Mom

For three agonizing years, my mother struggled with kidney failure. Finally, after all the waiting and the constant dialysis, she was next in line for a transplant. Hope seemed so close. But then, my husband, Zachary Levi, an esteemed nephrology professor, did the unforgivable. He surreptitiously gave his lover's mother the kidney that was intended for my mother. He said almost dismissively, "Ella's mother couldn't wait any longer. Your mother's been on dialysis for so long, she's not going to die anytime soon." Later, my mother passed away. I called Zachary one final time. Yet, it was a woman who answered. "Margaret, right? Zachary's in the shower. Is there something you need?" I stared at my mother's smile on the gravestone, and an overwhelming emptiness spread through me. "It's nothing. Just wanted to talk about the divorce."

On the first day of every month, my mom will give me my allowance based on the number of times I had checked in with her last month. "You'll receive 20 dollars for greeting your parents once in the morning and once in the evening. But last month, you only hit ten days' worth of quota, so you can only receive 200 dollars. This also means your 300-dollar punctuality fee will be deducted as well. "After adding on 150 dollars for your basic necessities, you shall receive only 350 dollars for this month's allowance. Remember to write a reflection report on your lack of punctuality later. I'll only transfer you the money if your report is acceptable." I become so overwhelmed by anxiety that my voice starts trembling. "I was busy with my finals last month, Mom! I had to line up outside the library at 5:00 am every day just so I could secure myself a seat! That's why I couldn't call you in time!" In a choked-up tone, I plead to my mom, "I need 600 dollars for the train ticket all the way home during the holidays! 350 dollars really isn't enough for me! Mom, can you please—" But my mom cuts me off firmly, "The allowance system is something that I've specifically designed for you so that I can help you get rid of the bad habit of wanting to receive everything without putting in hard work! Why can't you just understand that I'm doing this for your own good?" After that, she ends the call mercilessly. Just as I'm filled with despair and helplessness, a blond appears before my eyes. He's willing to buy my train ticket for me, but in return, I need to leave with him.

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.

Everyone said Kane adored me. That for me, he'd tame the wild rage of an Alpha, soften every growl, and sheath every claw. Ten years. Ten damn years of chasing, spoiling, protecting. I was convinced I’d be his Luna—his mate, his forever. But betrayal doesn’t come with a warning. It cuts sharp and deep. And it never just comes once. The first lie, I forgave. The second, I bled. The third? It broke something in me I’m not sure I’ll ever get back. And then came the words that snapped the last thread holding me together. "Julia, can't you just stop being so difficult? Stop acting like the world revolves around you." That was when I knew. The man who once walked through fire for me…Had turned into the very beast I needed saving from. The love I thought I had—it wasn’t love. It was a gilded cage, pretty from the outside, but still a prison. And if I was ever going to be free, I'd have to be the one to smash it open. Even if it meant setting the wolf on fire with it.

I was locked in a fridge for 40 days while the uncensored photos of me spread like wildfire across the internet. In the face of the salacious rumors about me, my mother reacted by reposting them. Then, she turned to warn my sister, "Look at how disgusting the entertainment industry is. Don't join it, alright? Stay home and inherit your sister's assets instead. My dearest daughter must be innocent and pure, unlike her." She forgot. She forgot I only joined this 'disgusting' industry to pay for her cancer treatment.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

Paula gave her all for her husband, only to discover to her regret, she was just a substitute for the woman he truly loved. Heartbroken, she was kicked out of the house, not even being given the opportunity to reveal she was pregnant. Paula still had hopes of winning her husband back, but then he framed her, leading her to go jail for two months, for a crime she didn't commit. This brewed hated in Paula's heart for him and she decided to get even, and returned back to her father as the prodigal daughter, to claim her rightful place as a powerful heiress. Five years after, Paula returns back to the city, popular and well-known and this time, her ex- husband wants her back and would do anything to make her his again, but how? All Paula wants now is to ruin the man she once loved, with the help of her billionaire fiancee who will give the world to her if she asked. What happens when Paula finds out later on, that she was actually wrong and the new enemies are those closer to her?

What happens when your secret crush is your Boss and surprisingly he asks you to become the substitute mother to his daughter? Stacy Hills is a timid girl with no rights of her own in the hands of her very own father who is more than willing to her off to get more money to spend on and in the nearby club because to him Stacy is nothing but an invaluable object used for his own advantage. She is forced by her father to sign marriage documents to her old college bully who wanted nothing more than to get between Stacy’s legs and dominate her by any means possible. Stacy for the first time refused to abide by her father's commands. In a fit of anger, her father raised his hand, poised to strike Stacy across the face. However, before he could act, a chilling threat filled the room, freezing him in place. "If you lay a hand on her, I will not hesitate to take every measure to ensure you are imprisoned for assaulting a woman, even if that woman happens to be your own daughter," a deep, menacing voice threatened, causing Ethan's hand to pause mid-air. "Yes! No one dares to hurt my substitute mummy!” A young girl's voice said, coming out from behind her Dad. "If anyone dares, then they'll face a cruel punishment from my daddy,” She had a serious look on her cute little face.

“Give my best friend one month to stay in our house, Love.” Aurelia had been enjoying her afternoon snack when her husband’s words made her turn toward him. “Stay… with us?” “Yes.” Ethan stepped closer, taking her hand, his voice soft with pleading. “Just one month. You heard what Anna told us yesterday about her life, didn’t you? Could you really bear to see her suffer even more? What if her ex-husband comes back and hurts her again? She’s pregnant too—just like you.” Auri looked at her husband for a long moment, searching his face. “Please,” Ethan said quietly. “Will you?” The permission Aurelia gave that day became the beginning of a ruin she had never imagined. From the moment Anna arrived, Ethan’s attention slowly drifted away from her. The affection that once belonged fully to Auri was now divided—often leaning toward his childhood friend, who had come carrying sorrow and carefully displayed wounds. Day after day, she lost more than her husband’s warmth. Until one day—heavily pregnant, her body was still weak after nearly losing her life due to a severe allergic reaction—Aurelia was driven out of the house she had once called her heaven. But her suffering didn’t end there. At the lowest point of her life, Auri was abducted by her husband’s business rival—used as leverage to pressure Ethan Harrow in a ruthless corporate battle. A real threat. A pregnant woman’s life is placed on the line. And yet, to Ethan… it was nothing more than a trick. Ethan didn’t come. He believed it was all a lie. A cheap performance—one he thought his own wife had staged.And perhaps, in that moment, he had already lost everything… long before he realized what he had thrown away.

At the height of my love for Seth Scott, he gave his heart to someone else. The winter chill seeped through the walls, and I lay beneath my blankets, trembling through the long, dark hours. He was out there, holding another woman close, warming her feet against his chest. He dismissed me as dramatic, refusing even a final glance. But what he didn’t realize was that I was dying. And he would never have the chance to see me again.