Rumbling Stomach Newborn

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

My husband searches for doctors everywhere to cure me of my stomach cancer. I think he loves me to the core, but after I recover, he takes away my left kidney to save his true love, who's been comatose for two years. He leans down to kiss her as I watch. "She owes you this; I've finally made her repay you. You'll definitely get better after this." What he doesn't know is that I'm already weak from the cancer. I die after he takes my kidney. That's when he goes crazy. He breaks down in tears and screams at the doctors. "Didn't you say she wouldn't die?"

The love that I knew wasn't like the ones written in a book. It wasn't beautiful and magical. It doesn't bring butterflies in my stomach and it doesn't make me feel special. It doesn't feel like home, I do not feel secure. It does not make me feel safe and worthy. The love that I experience doesn't feel like love. I'm not really sure if it is love because it made me doubt, insecure and made me feel unloved. And all I experienced was pain. No it was torture. To see him love someone else when all I could do is to love him and let him love her. Now I don't know if I could ever love someone else, after him.

When a ferocious storm tore through our town, Frank Turner risked his life to save me from being swept off our balcony's edge. Grateful, I finally said yes to his relentless marriage proposals. From then on, he treated me like royalty, fussing over every sniffle. To the world, he was the gold standard of devotion. But two years into our marriage, his warmth faded. When crippling stomach pain left me doubled over, he brushed it off, claiming work demanded his night. I went to find him, only to catch him in a steamed-up car with a girl, both stripped bare. My fairy-tale marriage shattered like glass. Turning around, I booked a flight and left the country. Frank tore the city apart looking for me, but it was too late.

Pregnant. It wasn't possible. My mate was impotent, doomed to be the first Alpha in generations unable to produce heirs. Yet this cheap plastic stick I had bought on a whim seemed to suggest otherwise. I swiped at the beads of sweat gathering along my hairline, my breaths coming faster. "This can't be right," I muttered. But the crimson line remained, taunting me. My wolf stirred restlessly, a pleased rumble echoing through our bond. "A pup! Our Alpha's pup," she purred. I pressed a hand to my still-flat stomach, emotions churning wildly. Of course I was overjoyed - as Luna, providing heirs was my most sacred duty. After nine months sharing Adrian's bed with no success, I had accepted my fate.

I did not get pregnant in the five years that I was married to Julian Gunter. He claimed that there was something wrong with his body and asked me not to leave him. But one day, I was sent to the hospital because of a stomach ache and continuous bleeding. A nurse came in and gave me an injection. She muttered impatiently, “Can’t you hold yourself back? You’re pregnant, but you had such vigorous love making. It serves you right that you lost your baby.” I endured the pain and walked out. “Mr. Gunter wanted Mrs. Gunter to have a permanent contraceptive injection after her fifth miscarriage. Don’t worry. Mr. Gunter has a way around it.” “The heir of Gunter Group can only be Mr. Jack Gunter.” Jack was the son of Julian’s sister-in-law.

In the eighth year of helping Keith Hunter pay off his debts, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I tested the waters and asked him, half joking, "If I got cancer, would you save me?" He laughed, saying I was overthinking it. Then he added firmly, "If it ever came to that, I would sell my blood to pay for your treatment." I lay awake all night, tossing and turning, still feeling like I couldn't drag him down with me. Before taking a sleeping pill, a notification popped up on my phone about a social media post. [How do I dump an older woman who paid off my debts for eight years without too much drama?] The profile picture looked eerily like Keith's silhouette from behind. He wrote, [Eight years ago, my family went bankrupt. She stuck with me, living off dry toast and squeezing into a rented apartment. She helped me pay back over 600 thousand dollars in debt. [Back then, I thought she was innocent and cute. Now, I feel like she's just a materialistic woman putting on an act. [Last month, she even asked whether I would save her if she got cancer. How does someone even ask that? [Obviously, she was trying to get money out of me. Good thing I didn't tell her that my family recovered three years ago. [Now, my family has arranged a fiancée for me. She's the daughter of a publicly listed company. [I want to cut things off with my girlfriend, but I'm afraid she'll cling to me. After all, she wasted a lot of her youth on me.] By the time I finished reading, I had crushed the stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand into a wrinkled mess.

Every she-wolf in Crescent Ridge knew the Nightwood name. Lola did not. She grew up in the pack orphanage with no bloodline sponsor, no rich family background, no seat among the pack’s royalties. Some wolves were born into power. Others had to fight for every inch. Lola fought. She worked day and night, building something out of nothing until the Moon Goddess finally blessed her with a fated mate—Alpha Tristain Herdez. He was Powerful, respected, desired by every she-wolf. Five years after their wedding, their house was still empty. The pack physician revealed the truth: Tristain could never father a child. Lola kept his secret and buried herself in work, building a company that all of Texas admired. Then she collapsed during a press conference. Stage four cancer. Less than a year to live. While she prepared to leave a legacy behind, Tristain returned home one day with a newborn, claiming the baby was abandoned at the pack gate. But the child had Tristain’s face and her best friend’s eyes. And Lola was running out of time to uncover the truth.

Kathleen believes that being single is sufficient. She does not require a man in her life. That is what she has always believed. But one day, she meets the man who would convinced her that everything she thinks is a lie. A man who can fill her stomach with butterflies. Not only butterflies, but hunger, need, and insatiable pleasure. Their fate appears to be playing them alone. Now she was smitten by his charisma. Falling into a pit where there is no point of turning back. She's trapped and can't even escape her own feelings. Worse yet, she discovered that the man she most desired was already married. Will she be able to fight for him? Will she be able to do anything just to please her own desire? Will she be able to bear the pain? Or will she be able end up getting every bit of him, by hook or by crook.

For sixteen long years, Eulalia Clearwater gave everything to Percival Dunraven, her first and only love, only to be cruelly pushed aside for his new infatuation. Percival believed that without Eulalia, a world of happiness awaited him, a fresh start with a new love. But when he stumbled upon Eulalia's devastating medical diagnosis, panic set in. Rushing to her side, he found her hand entwined with another's, her eyes filled with a resolve he had never seen before. "Why didn't you tell me about your stomach cancer?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fear and regret. Eulalia's response was a bitter laugh, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of pain and liberation. "Didn't you wish for my early demise?" she mocked. "Percival Dunraven, in the final moments of my life, I no longer want to love you."