Royale High Fountain Story Novels & Stories

My daughter was being slandered at the werewolf aristocratic high school. The other party threatens my daughter, saying that her father, one of the most powerful Alphas in the territory, will soon have my daughter kicked out of school. But the father they called for backup turned out to be my mate, Derek. When I saw Emma, her hair was a mess, her clothes disheveled and torn, with tear stains still fresh on her face. My heart ached. Rage surged through me. Across from us stood a glamorous she-wolf, her chin lifted high with arrogance. "So what if my daughter slandered yours? Look at what you're wearing. You're nothing but poor Omega wolves." The girl who had spread rumors about my daughter was equally brazen. "My father is a major shareholder of this academy. If you dare defy me, I can have trash like you expelled in minutes!" But the father who arrived in a luxury SUV to back them up, dressed in an expensive tailored suit—wasn't that my mate Derek? When Derek saw Emma and me, he frowned, clearly surprised. I let out a cold laugh. "Derek, so you have another family and another daughter now?"

Being in a Contract marriage with an illegitimate daughter is one decision that Alaric cannot change but manage with. Desperate to make his betrothed wife give up on the marriage without having any share of his property made him and his mistress drug her and set her up in a one night stand with a stranger. Not only did she get pregnant for an unknown man,it cost her marriage and also rendered her homeless. Faced with no choice than to search for the man that not only took her virginity but also made her a mom. Was her search successful? Who was the identity of the man she had a night stand with?

My childhood sweetheart, Nate Green, left me again and again, always for my stepsister, Jules Howard. Still, I forgave him and waited for him. I was stupid enough to believe he would come back one day, triumphant and sworn to marry me. Then, one day, he made Jules pregnant and promised her that their child would inherit the Silvermoon Pack. In that instant, every scrap of my hope, every night spent waiting, and every fantasy I’d let myself have was crushed beneath his feet. So, I turned away and took the hand of his younger uncle, Elliot Green. Because of my choice, Elliot became the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack. Nate would never know the truth: I was the Luna the Bryce clan had always claimed as fate. Whoever beside me would be the one ordained to become the next Alpha. Later, under a full moon, Elliot and I stood on the ceremonial dais and accepted the blessing of the Moon Goddess. In that moment, Nate’s face turned white as paper. Finally, he understood that what he had thrown away wasn’t just a woman who loved him; it was the future of an entire pack. He used to treat me like dust. Now, he knelt among the ruins, frantic and broken, while I smiled down from my high place, cold and unmoved, never looking back.

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

My father raised me on one principle: fair exchange. If I wanted anything, I had to earn it myself. Fifty cents for washing the dishes. A dollar for mopping the floor. Five dollars for a perfect score on a test. To buy the pair of white sneakers I had been dreaming of, I spent three months collecting recyclables. In that house, I lived like a pieceworker, paid by the task. It was not until my senior year of high school that everything began to crack. I collapsed during morning study, my body worn down by years of malnutrition. The doctor said I needed better nutrition. My father stood by my hospital bed and started doing the math. "Three hundred for the hospital stay. Two hundred for medication. Chester, this all goes on your tab for the future." I turned my head and saw a boy in a school uniform in the next bed. His father was feeding him spoonfuls of chicken soup, his eyes red with worry. In that moment, the world I had known for 18 years fell apart. It turned out not every child had to earn their parents' love. After I was discharged, I went home and saw the pair of designer sneakers on my brother's feet; it was worth thousands. That was when I finally woke up. I tore up the family photo and, without hesitation, applied to the college farthest from home. Ten years later, my father called me in tears. My brother had taken all his retirement savings, sold the house, and run off with his girlfriend. He was left with nothing. No home. No one. I smiled and tossed him a rag. "Want a place to stay? Sure. It's 50 cents per window. Earn your own rent."

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

After the SAT scores get released, everyone in the advanced class hits the 1,400 threshold. The campus heartthrob, Luke Gilbert, recommends the latest AI college application app that is developed by his dad's company to make it easier for everyone. I pull Keyla Simmons, the class president, over and warn her that the risks that come with using an AI application app are far too high. On top of that, there are deadly flaws within the app that can lead to the students getting rejected by their dream colleges. But Keyla responds by hurling a high heel in my face. All of my classmates surround me and begin mocking me relentlessly. "Justin, you're just worried that everyone will get into better courses once they used the AI app to apply for their colleges!" "Heh! If you have a crush on Keyla, then just say it out loud! There's no need to play the jealousy card and throw a tantrum just to ruin everyone's future! Besides, look at how haggard you are right now! You can barely hold a candle to Luke, our campus heartthrob! Haha!" I'm so pissed that my asthma attack gets triggered on the spot. For the sake of everyone's future, I can only escalate things to the point that the education department gets involved. Only then can I stop everyone from using the app. Unexpectedly, on the day I receive my college acceptance letter, a bunch of convicts, who have escaped from prison, vandalize the bookstore that my family owns. Those bastards even violate me and my younger brother in front of our parents. At the same time, they keep gushing about how doing it with a guy feels way more satisfying. Then, they kill our parents in cold blood right in front of our eyes. In the end, they set the entire bookstore on fire, ultimately burning us into ashes. What's worse is that this terrible incident doesn't get reported at all. Instead, my classmates slander me for having illicit relations with outsiders when I was still a high schooler. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Luke suggests that everyone use the AI college application app. This time, I don't bother stopping them. Instead, I'm the first one to agree with Luke. "Humans have to adapt to the growing trends. AI is definitely more professional than humans."

A week after my engagement, I was delivered an unusual engagement gift. My phone chimed. I glanced down and saw a push notification from a social app. [Fell in love with a female livestreamer right before my engagement. I feel guilty toward my older girlfriend who's about to become my fiancée—how should I deal with this?] The user ID was "SimonLovesClaire." The profile picture showed a melancholy side view of a man wrapped in a gray scarf. I recognized him instantly. It was my fiancé, Simon Aldrich. That limited-edition scarf was the birthday gift I had given him last year.

The project I had poured my heart and soul into earned the company over a hundred million in profit, yet the credit was handed to the vice president's nephew. I stood in a corner, the stack of source code documents trembling in my hands, nearly crushed by my grip. That nephew—who couldn't even get Hello World to compile—was now on stage, smiling brightly as he accepted the award. The vice president came over and draped an arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "You're just an outsourced worker," he said casually. "These honors wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. Jason is new. He's got limitless potential. From now on, you'll be responsible for mentoring him properly." Only then did I realize that decades of struggle had been nothing more than laying out a red carpet for someone else's glory. That very night, while reviewing the project's code repository, I discovered a massive flaw—one serious enough to bring the entire system crashing down within three days.