Round Folding Dining Table

SAVAGE LOVE GENRE: Romance By, Tamar writes PROLOGUE Amour sniffed back her tears as she watched the scene before her. Never in her life would she have imagined getting herself in this situation she currently was. It felt like a never ending nightmare. The sound of footsteps was what rented the room, it was coming from a tall figure, his gaze never left the man that was tied down on a chair with both his hands chained down on the table The figure held a sharp silver colored knife in his hand, twirling as if it was his play toy, a vicious smirk playing on his lips Every step he took instilled fear and panic inside the man that was tied down. “Boss please forgive me! I was drunk so I thought she was one of the clan's whóre I swear I didn't know she was yours" The man begged like his life depended on it. "Which hand did you use to touch her" Aurelio spoke calmly. "My.. My.. L-Left-" He wasn't chanced to finish his sentence when Aurelio cut off his left hand completely. Blood splashed on his cheek as it began bumping out of the man's hand. "Aargh!!!" The agonizing cry from the man echoed in the room as he peed on himself. Aurelio turned to Amour who looked horrified with the scene she just witnessed. His hands found his way to her neck and he gripped it tightly, bringing her face close to his so he could have a clear view of the terrified look on her face. "This Is just the highest level of my kindness compared to what I can do. Remember this, you're mine! Mine to touch, mine to f**k, mine to do whatever I want with... No one else... But me"

He looked up at the sky filled with dancing stars "I wonder how long it will take for this realm to become extinct." The savior thought within himself. "Well, that would take a billion years, give or take." The savior heard in his head. He looked around to see who it was but he didn't see anyone, he replied anyway "Then we need to make that billion years into few years. And I know what to do." The round table was covered with a golden cloth with some strangers sitting round it "I hope we are all clear on what to do?" The savior asked.

"Noooooooooooooo!" With a loud shrieking voice. "Stopppp! Not again, not even here". Sobbing, trying to get a grip of what had happened, again. Her body vibrates violently, with her hands shaking and moving like they have a mind of their own. Her glowing eye is so noticeable even with the dark shades on. Her body violently jerked, spilling the hot pasta and orange juice all over the dining table and her denim shirt, while she tried her best to keep calm and behave as if everything was fine. A secret only her mum used to know about has grown wings and flown out, in the cafeteria!. "Hell no, I have to do something." She whispered to herself. But sadly, there was nothing to be done. The damage had been done already. Anxiously, she picked her backpack and brought out her journal, and placed it on the messed-up dining table. She could hear some of the students calling her a freak, and as usual, all looking at her in disgust. Her heart sinks every time that happens, knowing she's going to be the talk of the school, and she hated that. She hated all of it, and self-flagellation was as tempting as the garden of Eden. She just wished she could just disappear from the surface of the earth. Then suddenly, The bell rang, lunchtime was over. "Finally," She muttered, with a deep sigh. Yes, she is a PSYCHIC, and she's 16. She is a psychic who has another being in her. She had five friends, each with a secret to keep. they had to team up to solve the mysterious Homicide going on in their peaceful town, and in the process, they learnt each other secrets and the town's history. Will they be able to solve the mystery?

When my son was born, I noticed a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the weird thing? By the time I opened my eyes again after giving birth, it was gone. I figured maybe I'd imagined it. That is, until the baby shower. My brother-in-law's son, born the same day as mine, had the exact same birthmark. Clear as day. That's when it hit me. I didn't say a word, though. Not then. I waited. Eighteen years later, at my son's college acceptance party, my brother-in-law stood up and dropped the truth bomb: the "amazing" kid I'd raised was theirs. I just smiled and invited him and his wife to take their "rightful" seats at the table.

POV DE MELANIE Assise devant son bureau, je me demande encore comment j'en suis arrivée là. À une époque, nous partions à l'église avec mes parents. Je sais que les saintes Écritures disent de pardonner, mais je ne le pouvais pas. J'avais fait des recherches, et j'ai sauté sur cette opportunité lorsqu'elle m'a été présentée. — Monsieur Carlson vous reçoit dans 15 minutes. Ces quinze minutes semblent durer une éternité pour moi, et je ressers mes cuisses pour gérer mon impatience. Je saisis un des magazines posés sur la table basse, mais cela ne parvient pas à distraire mon esprit de l'homme qui se trouve derrière cette porte. _Mademoiselle Porter, vous pouvez entrer. Avec précaution, je me lève et pénètre dans le bureau. En ouvrant la porte, je constate qu'il n'a même pas détourné le regard de son ordinateur. Je l'avais déjà vu dans de nombreux magazines, mais le croiser ici, devant moi, me fait réaliser à quel point il est impressionnant. Je sais qu'au lycée, il faisait partie de l'équipe de football américain et qu'il aurait pu envisager une carrière professionnelle s'il l'avait souhaité. Je reste là, debout, à l'observer. Dès qu'il lève les yeux, je baisse les miens. Il venait de se lever et j'entendis le son de sa chaise. Je pouvais maintenant distinguer ses chaussures à proximité, indiquant qu'il était juste devant moi. _ Regardez-moi, mademoiselle Porter. Je lève les yeux et le fixe. POV DE DONOVAN Ses yeux étaient d'un marron étonnamment clair. Elle dégageait une odeur fraîche que je ne saurais décrire. Vêtue d'un jean taille haute et d'un crop top, elle paraissait plus jeune que ne le laissaient entendre ses informations, ce qui me réjouissait déjà. _ Savez-vous vraiment en quoi consiste ce travail ?

My boyfriend passed away from illness. Before he died, he asked me to look after his only younger brother—Callum Ressler. I put Callum through college, and helped him build his company from the ground up. Then one night, after a round of drinking at some work function, he ended up in bed with me. While I wrestled with what we were to each other, I noticed something on his office desk: a photo of me, framed neatly beside an engagement ring. My heart stirred. I pushed open the lounge door, ready to finally talk about us. But just as the door creaked open, a white camisole fell at my feet. I froze. Callum pulled the covers tightly around a shocked female assistant. "Diana, ever heard of knocking?" he snapped. Face pale, limbs suddenly uncoordinated, I started backing out. But the assistant's timid voice stopped me. "Diana… could you hand me my clothes?" I ignored the hostility behind her eyes, grabbed the garment, tossed it onto the bed, and left in a hurry. Once I stepped outside the company building, Callum called. "Diana, you should really stop barging into my room like that." I laughed and agreed. From that moment on, I never stepped into his world again.

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told… And evil queens are the princesses that were never saved… She had the typical cliché story. The queen bitch in her school ruled over her peers while she dated the quarterback from the football team. A newbie good girl entered the picture and changed everything. After bunch of heartbreaks, stupid pranks, teenage jealousy and stuff, the quarterback fell for the new girl and everyone called it a happy ending. But it wasn't so happy for our girl. Because she wasn’t the good girl. She was the bad one. She was the rich and bitchy queen bee. When high school ended with her boyfriend of more than three years who was now her ex, vowing to keep some other girl happy forever, our girl lost it. So she let life take her wherever it desired. What she didn't know was that such recklessness will lead her directly to the most feared mafia boss of all times! How could she have guessed that going to a popular club with a fake ID and boldly dancing on top of a table will catch the eye of some dangerous people? And how could she have known that it'll also get her into some serious trouble when suddenly, gunshots are being fired all around her? Leaving a young super drunk girl alone in the night after she had witnessed him shooting a dozen of enemies was something the mafia leader couldn't do. That's why he took her with him...

Without Kaelen's knowledge, I had his little plaything sent out of North America. That same night, he cast a blood-vine curse on my parents, banishing them to the wilds—a wasteland prowled by rogues. He was going to trade my parents' lives for the whereabouts of his plaything. Kaelen pushed a communication crystal in front of me. Inside it, my parents were ensnared by blood-red vines, the thorns digging deep into their flesh. Drops of dark crimson blood fell, one by one, onto the barren earth. A countdown timer pulsed in stark red digits on their chests. 23:59:59 23:59:58 He sat across from me, a black suit tailored to perfection molded to his lean, powerful frame. His long fingers tapped a light, steady rhythm on the solid wood table, as if he were waiting for a trivial business deal to close. "Estelle, you have twenty-four hours." His voice was low and calm, laced with a venomous tenderness. "Tell me, where did you send Cassandra?"

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.