Round Folding Dining Table

My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version. She even bolted it shut during showers. Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first. Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together. Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking. My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever." I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

I had my meal and was about to leave my sister's restaurant, but the manager stopped me. "Sorry, sir, but you haven't paid your tab." I never saw this guy before. He probably had no idea who I was. Kindly, I explained, "Put it on your boss' tab. She knows what to do." The manager instead gave me a look of derision. "Sir, we're a 3-star Michelin restaurant. We do not put anyone's bill on another person's tab." He handed me an itemized bill. The guy had it ready and printed. I went through the list. The meal alone cost 75 grand. The 'dining utensil gleam maintenance fee' ran up to 45 hundred. There was also an exclusive air purifier fee, which would cost 75 hundred. And there was a 'VIP calm headspace service fee' that ran up to 15 grand. Those were the ones that stood out, but they were far from the last. I had no idea my sister was running an extortion gig. Mirthlessly, I laughed. "I'm your boss' brother. Tell her she's talking to me when she comes home." The manager did not let me go. "Just say you can't afford it. You're not the first one to try and claim you know Ms. Grayheim. I know leeches like you well enough." I texted my secretary. 'Tell my sister she either fires this guy, or I pull my funds out.'

Zara Storme was the ghost in the machine at Sterling Global. For three years, she wasn’t just Mark Sterling’s fiancée she was The Architect. The unseen force who patched his weaknesses, outplayed his rivals, and quietly engineered a billion-dollar empire while he collected the applause. Then, over an elegant dinner, Mark slid a severance check across the table instead of a ring. To him, Zara was indispensable but temporary. Brilliant, yes. Loyal, certainly. But she lacked the pedigree required for his permanent throne. So he chose optics over love, trading her for a strategic merger and a well-bred socialite. Mark expected tears. Begging. A woman unraveling. What he didn’t know was that abandonment had trained Zara long before him. Her father had taught her the art of leaving without looking back. Fueled by a quiet rage, Zara committed one final act of treason which was leaking Mark’s most valuable upcoming deals to his greatest rival, Asher Vane. It was meant to be her clean exit. Then fate intervened. She was pregnant. Five years later, Zara returns to the city reborn as the formidable CEO of Lucent Capital. No longer the woman behind the throne, she is the throne. A venture-capital titan whose influence eclipses every man who once dismissed her. At her side is Luca her five-year-old masterpiece. Disciplined. Brilliant. And unmistakably the son of the man who walked away. When Mark Sterling’s empire begins to collapse under the weight of its own lies, desperation drives him to seek salvation from a firm powerful enough to save him. He comes to the boardroom expecting mercy. Instead, he finds Zara Storme seated at the head of the table untouchable, and finally holding his fate in her hands. This time, she’s here to watch it burn.

I'm the daughter of the Alpha King of the Werewolf Alliance that's based in Valdoria. In order to give my Alpha fiance whom I've never met before, Lucas Howell, a surprise, I've specifically hidden my scent as a royal she-wolf. Clad in a seemingly ordinary white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, I walk into the venue, where the Dark Shadow pack is hosting their annual celebration. As soon as I take my seat at the main table, which has been reserved for me, I feel someone dumping a glass of red liquid onto me. A she-wolf wearing a red dress that comes with a deep V-neck can be seen standing in front of me. Her expression is one of disdain. "Where did you come from, you filthy Rogue? You really think you get to sit at the main table, huh?" As I wipe the wine stains off my clothes, I do my best to suppress the ferocity of my wolf. "Lucas has specifically reserved this seat for his mate. Why can't I sit here?" The she-wolf acts as though she's heard the biggest joke ever. She then point at her work badge that's pinned on her chest while saying mockingly, "I'm Lucas' personal secretary as well as the future Luna whom everyone has acknowledged. In this pack, my word is the law here. "Guards, drag this delusional half-breed away and throw her out!" What a coincidence. Lucas has just texted me, pleading with me to announce our relationship as soon as possible. I dig out my phone and dial his number. Then, I put my phone on loudspeaker mode. "Your personal secretary claims that she's the future Luna, and she has commanded the guards to throw me out. What's your explanation for this matter, hmm?"

"You're…you're divorcing me on our anniversary? Our fourth anniversary?" He quirked an eyebrow. "So what?" A surge of anger swept through me at his aloofness. "Tell me Jason. Tell me. Did our marriage mean anything to you?" “You could’ve at least let me eat before destroying me,” I said, my lips trembling with the weight of unshed tears. Jason shrugged. “I don’t see the point of dragging it out. It’s done. Sign the papers.” On their fourth wedding anniversary, Jason slides divorce papers over the dining table. Isabelle is bewildered and tries to reason with him but he is adamant and he insists that she signs the papers. Then, Lila, her cousin, appears out of nowhere, visibly pregnant and clings to Jason possessively. Utterly shocked and angered, she signs the papers and leaves the house. When she returns, she is locked out. Just like that she becomes homeless. She wakes up in a cheap motel with no plan, no money, just nothing. She gets a cleaning job but on her way home after the first work day, she collapses. She discovers she is pregnant. By the help of a mysterious man she meets at the club, she leaves town. Years later, she returns to the city, changed, sophisticated and wealthy. What happens when her path and Jason's cross? Is she back for dirty revenge? To crush his world to nothing but dust? Or is there a chance she would take him back? What happens when the mysterious man returns to her life?

I was born with a one-track mind—I take everything seriously and do exactly as I'm told. When my adoptive father cursed a rival company, calling them bloodsucking vampires, I immediately went out, bought ten pounds of garlic and a crucifix, and stormed into their CEO's office to perform an exorcism. When my adoptive mother said she was willing to sell a kidney for the sake of the company, I contacted an underground black-market clinic on the spot and asked when they could schedule her surgery. Over time, no one dared joke casually around me anymore. Everyone in the family chose their words with extreme care, terrified I might take them at face value. That is, until the day of the family reunion banquet—when the fake heiress, who refused to leave no matter what, showed up as well. She hooked her arm through my brother's and flashed me a provocative smile. "Arista, Benji dotes on me the most," she said sweetly. "He said if anyone dares to make me unhappy, he'll chop them into pieces and dump them in the river to feed the fish." The banquet hall erupted in laughter. I was the only one whose face went deathly pale. The next second, I kicked my brother, Benji Collins, straight onto the dining table. I grabbed the silver steak knife and pressed it against his throat. "Everyone, stay calm," I announced loudly. "I've already called the police! For publicly advocating premeditated murder, desecration of a corpse, and antisocial personality tendencies… The minimum sentence is the death penalty!"

"He drags me from wall to table to wall again, like he can’t decide which surface deserves this. Wood bites my spine, the table squeals. His hands are everywhere, rough, greedy, feral. He palms my throat, my jaw, my hips. He fists a hand in my hair and angles my mouth. The kiss is vicious. He grinds me open with it. 'Kneel,' he says. The command is a shove under the skin. My legs fold. It’s humiliating how fast I go and how much I love myself for it." He owns my mouth. My body. My fucking soul. But I never said he could have my heart. Eli’s been chained before and it damn near killed him. So when he’s caught running through Blackthorn pack lands by Ronan Vale, the savage Alpha of Blackthorn, he's horrified when the brute marks and claims him. But Ronan doesn’t just bite. He binds. With ropes, with rules, with a voice that makes Eli's knees go weak and a touch that turns resistance into hunger. The bond between them is feral. And Eli hates how much he wants it, how much he wants Ronan, even when he has him spread out and shaking, marked and owned, begging to be filled so he’ll stop feeling empty. Eli swore no one would ever own him again. Then came the Alpha whose bond feels like a brand and a promise all at once. He hates how much he wants it. Ronan’s voice. Ronan’s hands. Ronan’s brutal, worshipful need. This isn’t love, it’s obsession. And Eli is afraid that he's starting to like it.

Legend says that that one day, far far away a girl would be born. With the greatest power any creature had ever seen. Her hair would be silky, shiny like a diamond and black like coal, her purple eyes will have men on their knees. Nations would fight to have her as one of them. Kings will clash to have. When Storm's foster parents found her as a baby on their doorstep, her purple eyes round and blazing like fire, they took her in, raising her as an ordinary Omega, while trying their best to hide what she was because thye understood the danger that would come with it. So years, when Storm found her mate, the Alpha of the pack..she was rejected and humilated cos she was nothing but a slave. Or so he thought. She sought solace in another pack, where she was welcomed and her second chance mate turns out to be the Alpha too. Storm gets accepted because of her power so how will she grow to trust and love her new mate is she cant tell whether he was sincere or just after her powers? And when her first mate discovers who she was and comes back to reclaim her, what would be of her?

At the award-giving ceremony of the end-of-the-year gala, my boss, George White, suddenly announces that he will be adding a bonus round on a whim. "This is the annual department evaluation! The department that comes last shall come onto the stage and receive a tiny encouragement from me!" The huge screen lights up at that moment. The sales achievements accumulated by all departments are being shown in a ranking system. The sales department is ranked first. The operations department comes second, and the marketing department gets third place. As for the administrative department, the sales achievements shown on the screen are none. After all, that department has no KPI to achieve at all. George beams at us from the administrative department. "Everyone from the administrative department, come on up and receive your prize!" Two people can be seen carrying a basket of brooms up the stage. Everyone bursts into laughter instantly. "Come now, sweep away your bad luck with the brooms! Try not to come up as the bottom-ranked department again next year!" George personally thrusts the brooms into our hands. Camera flashes go off beneath the stage—people are clearly taking photos of us. The people from the sales department are the ones laughing the hardest. "Finally, the peeps from the administrative department are getting the recognition they deserve!"