Roxy Fnaf: Security Breach Novels & Stories

“Oh my darling Uncle”. I said while hugging him as he was backing me. “Uncle?”. A different voice asked and it seems to come from the person I'm hugging. He turned around with me in his arms and I stared into his eyes. Dark eyes. Uncle Max's eyes are blue, like mine. I let go of him immediately like I had been burned and blushed furiously. “Uhm, sorry. I thought you… were my uncle”. I told him. A chuckle brought my attention back to his handsome face. “Hello cutie, why do you think your uncle is here?” He said, his voice sending shivers down my body. *** Happiness Matthews, a 19-year-old college freshman, thought she had everything figured out when she left her small Texas town for the bright lights of California. But after a dangerous security guard targets her in her new apartment, she has to move in with Mason, her uncle's friend, who she met two years ago at his wedding. Mason, a man in his thirties still haunted by the woman who left him at the altar two years ago, never expected to share his home with his best friend’s niece. At first, their living arrangement seems like a temporary inconvenience—but the longer they stay under the same roof, the harder it becomes to ignore the magnetic tension building between them. As the lines between family and desire blur, Happiness finds herself drawn to the man who carries both charm and a painful past. But with every passing day, the unspoken rules become more difficult to follow, and a dangerous truth about Mason’s past threatens to tear them both apart. In a story where forbidden attraction and unresolved heartbreak collide, Happy must choose between loyalty, family, love, and her own future—before the stakes get even higher

When I'm in my senior year of high school, my mom, Bethany Stout, is diagnosed with uremia. Even after our family sells the house, we are still 300,000 dollars short on the dialysis fee. I pack my bags overnight, ready to go to work on an assembly line at an electronics factory. The class belle, Natasha Ferris, grabs my shirt tightly at the train station ticket gate. She's someone who usually blushes even when speaking a little loudly, but that day she forces a bank card into my hand. "The password is your birthday. Consider the money a loan. You're not allowed to miss the SAT." I say I may never be able to pay this money back in my entire life. With red-rimmed eyes, she scolds me, "Then pay me back slowly, but you cannot ruin your life just like this." Throughout the four years of college, she transfers me 800 dollars for food every single month without fail, and the note is always "eat more meat". Mom survives the kidney transplant surgery, and I also secure a guaranteed admission and enter a top-tier company. But Natasha cuts off all contact without any warning. Eight years later, I am the youngest partner at the major company, with an annual salary of ten million dollars. Yet, Natasha's name appears in a mockery video of a local matchmaking group. "Not only is this woman already 30 years old and has a sick mother, but she's also demanding 100,000 dollars as a wedding gift? Is she crazy or what?" When I watch the person in the video wearing old clothes, head lowered while enduring people's criticism, my eyes sting with tears. I push aside the signing ceremony for a ten-million-dollar project and pick up the bank card and my Social Security card. This time, it is my turn to catch Natasha when she falls.

Married to Don Victor for three years, I thought I could finally forget the pain and betrayal of my ex-husband, Dominic. This cold, ruthless man ruled the East Coast underworld. But he handed me the world on a silver platter, healing my broken pieces. Until late one night. Victor's underboss called, frantic, begging me to rush to Manhattan's top private hospital. Victor and Dominic were in a standoff outside the maternity ward. Guns drawn, surrounded by their elite hitmen. They were inches away from sparking an all-out mob war. And standing between them was my ex-best friend, Chloe. She was visibly pregnant. The Commission's mediator slid a truce across the table. His expression was painfully awkward. "The security tapes are clear. The two Dons nearly blew up the entire floor just to decide who gets to stay in her room tonight." Numbly, I signed the papers as the Donna of the Costello family. Prenatal vitamins bought by Victor already piled high in the room. Meanwhile, his and Dominic's men were still arguing over the schedule—how the two Mafia Dons would split their week to keep Chloe company, three days each. When I walked up to the bed, the two lethal men who were just at each other's throats now stood guarding her on both sides. Victor shielded her belly. The same lips that used to kiss every inch of my body now spit out bone-chilling words: "I forced her. If you have a problem, take it up with me." My ex-husband, Dominic, glared at me viciously. "Keep your mad dog of a husband in check. Tell him to stop harassing my woman!" I slowly shook my head. Watching this farce, silent tears slid down my cheeks. A mobster's love... in the end, it's just a cheap lie. Victor, I don't want you anymore either.

I was already halfway across the room before I knew what I was doing. What kind of people had she been surrounding herself with if she thought that she wasn't attractive? Hell, she was gorgeous, delicious, downright perfect in every way. I needed to show her what I saw. What she was in my eyes. I couldn't help myself. I had Genevieve up against the wall in a blink of an eye, a growl escaping my throat and mixing with her surprised gasp. Her hands still clung to the robe, trying to make herself seem smaller. I slipped one hand underneath, along her collarbone, while the other slid along her neck, to the back of her head where I gripped her loose bun and pulled it taught. "Babygirl, you're more than just attractive. You have my c*ck aching every time I set my eyes on you.” My voice was a distorted growl, but I know she understood every word I said. I leaned my body in against hers to accentuate my point, and Genevieve's adorable mouth widened with a surprised gasp. I took that opportunity to claim what I'd been dreaming off since the moment I set my eyes on her. I dipped my head and locked my lips on hers, and realized in that sweet, blissful moment, that I had f*cked up. *** Genevieve Blake was a well-known, erotic romance author. She enjoyed meeting her fans and writing stories that made even her blush. What she hadn't planned on, though, was for a stalker to come out from the shadows and threaten her life. When the police can't do anything, she turns to Grim Security to protect her against the deranged lunatic. But who's going to protect her heart, and her body, from the intensity of Raphael Bard?

When the new intern, Felix Madden, hears that I'm going back to my hometown for the Thanksgiving weekend and won't be home in my fully paid-off luxury lakeview apartment, he goes out of his way to cozy up to me. "Come on, Carl. Your place is going to be empty anyway. Why not let my parents stay there for a few days during the holiday? It'll save them the cost of paying for a hotel," Felix says. Worried that my belongings might be tampered with, I politely turn him down. His expression darkens slightly, and he mutters under his breath, "Fine. If you won't lend it to me, I'll find my own way." I don't think much of it at the time. Then, on the first day of the holiday, the property management company sends me a message. They inform me that a group of strangers has entered my building using my access code and appear to be heading to my unit. My heart sinks to my stomach. Something is very wrong. I've only ever shared my access code with my closest family members. There is no way an outsider could know it. The next thing I see is Felix's social media post. The photo shows him and his entire family relaxing in my apartment. The caption reads, "Spending Thanksgiving in a luxury lakeview apartment. Life is good. If you work hard enough, you can enjoy this kind of lifestyle too." Not once does he mention that the apartment belongs to me. Instead, he deliberately makes it look like he owns the property himself. Quietly, I save every piece of evidence. I save the security camera footage and make screenshots of his social media posts. I don't throw them out, nor do I expose them—I simply wait. By the final day of the holiday, they've thoroughly enjoyed themselves and start packing up without a care in the world. As they prepare to leave, they are dumbfounded.

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

At the entrance of the airport, as I watch my best friend, Jenna Bryant, taking the initiative to accept a passerby's request to help bring a USB drive back to the country, I know that she's gotten reborn as well. In my previous life, the passerby had sought us out and requested us to bring the USB drive with us to the country we were flying to. "Once you get off the plane, someone will meet up with you. Don't worry, we'll make sure to reward you for your help. "When we're sure that the USB drive has made it to the safe hands without a hitch, I'll give you a monetary reward." The passerby looked very anxious, not to mention there was money being promised as a reward. It was only natural for Jenna to feel very tempted to accept the request. But I quickly shook my head and turned him down. Then, I whisked Jenna through the security customs and made sure to explain the danger of such requests to her. What I didn't know was that the USB drive belonged to the richest man in the city, and that the one who helped deliver the USB drive would receive tens of millions of dollars as a reward. After finding out about the news, Jenna was enraged. She rushed to my house and stabbed me immediately with a blade. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be the one receiving that reward!" I could only look at my husband, Ricky Manning, in hopes that he'd save me. But he merely replied mockingly, "You lost our ten-million-dollar reward, Valerie! Death is just an easy way out for you!" After I died, Jenna moved into my house and lived a romantic life with Ricky. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day that passerby has stopped me and Jenna. I just chuckle as I look at how greedy Jenna is. What she doesn't know is that this is actually a deadly USB drive.

My boyfriend came from a wealthy family. We had been together for seven years, yet he had never given me a single gift. When he proposed, he even asked for the diamond ring back so he could return it for a refund. Later, when we were about to register our marriage, he complained that the paperwork fee was too expensive and said it wasn’t necessary. However, not long after that, he registered his marriage with his childhood sweetheart instead. He even booked the most luxurious hotel in the entire city, eager to throw a grand engagement party. The shock was too much for my grandmother, and she suffered a heart attack. I dropped to my knees and begged my boyfriend to return the salary I had entrusted to him over the years, as I needed the money to pay for my grandmother’s surgery. He simply wrapped his arm around his childhood sweetheart and pretended not to know me. He said he would never help a lazy beggar who only knew how to freeload. Then, he ordered the security guards to throw me out. Later, my grandmother died on New Year’s Eve, her final breaths drowned out by the sound of fireworks outside. While everyone else celebrated the holiday season, I handled my grandmother’s funeral alone. At the same time, I accepted a job offer from a major overseas company. When I returned home to get my passport, the man—who had just finished introducing his sweetheart to his parents and was clearly in a good mood—saw me and assumed I was still throwing a tantrum. For the first time, he spoke generously. “Alright. What could possibly have happened to your grandmother? At worst, I’ll make it up to you with a luxurious wedding.” What he didn’t know was that from the moment my grandmother took her last breath, I no longer wanted to marry him.

The day my father was diagnosed with liver cancer, I took out the cash gift I had received from my wedding to cover the emergency costs. The bank teller counted the amount multiple times. At that moment, I learned that out of the twenty thousand dollars cash gift Peter Grant’s family had given me a year ago, eighteen thousand dollars were counterfeit. I went home with the fake money to demand an explanation. My mother-in-law, Deborah, stepped on my father’s picture and called him a worthless man who deserved to die. Peter refused to divorce me. He demanded that I pay back the twenty thousand dollars in cash before he would agree to the divorce. When I refused, he started a live stream. He held up my undergarments for tens of thousands of viewers to see. “Look at what my wife is wearing. Is she trying to save her dad, or is she trying to seduce him? “We’ve been married for a whole year, and she hasn’t even given me a single child. Now she wants a divorce? This is marriage fraud. She scammed us out of the cash gift!” The comments section hurled insults at me. Someone threw dung on our front porch. Someone even edited my family’s faces onto old-fashioned funeral portraits and posted them online. The whole internet said my family deserved to die. What they did not know was that when that money was put into the safe, the whole thing had been caught on camera. The security seals on the cash bundles were covered in Peter’s family’s fingerprints. They also did not know that I had picked up the wrong medical report. The one with cancer was not my father. It was actually Deborah. Later, Peter knelt on the floor begging me to give him some money to save his mother. I kicked his hand away and said coldly, “I still have your counterfeit eighteen thousand dollars. I’ll give it all back to you. Is that enough to cremate your mother?”