Rush Hour Palmerah

Marie, a young beautiful woman who just graduated from college departs back to her family, she belongs to a branch of the Genovesse family and she is to be the Heir of her Family, she goes home to meet her Father who she hadn't seen in over four years, along with her brother but soon after her arrival. A Mafia Lord shows up, Mancini proposes a meeting with Marie's Father, to discuss matters concerning the Family, while Maries waited for her aging father to finish his meeting, she hears gun shots from the room her father was in. In a rush, she carries some men and breaks down the door just to see her father bleeding to death, at the same time she sees her father, Marie's is also shot by Mancini's right hand man, in her confusion she sees her father dying before her, she was also dying but she didn't care about any of that, she struggled to reach her father and prayed for a chance to save her father, to fix all of this, to save her family, afterwards Marie dies of blood loss from bullet wounds to her chest. Marie later wakes up in a plane going back to her family's house, in her confusion, she realizes she had gone back in time, back to when she had finished college and was returning back home. Now that she knew what was going to happen, will Marie be able to change the future and save her family or will be unable to change the unmovable hand of fate?

Housing prices collapsed. My parents ran a real estate business. They and their long-time family friend, the Goodwin family, went into bankruptcy. My parents had me and my younger sister draw lots to decide who would marry into the Goodwin family to fulfill an old engagement. In my previous life, I drew the short stick. From that moment, I became a slave to both families. During the day, I needed to work to pay off the Goodwin family’s debt. At night, I needed to deliver food to cover my parents’ financial losses. I survived on scraps and slept in the cold. I continued to work even when I coughed up blood. That day, I went all out and finally secured a multimillion-dollar business deal. My heart burst with excitement. I was eager to tell them the good news. Across the street, I saw my parents get off a Rolls-Royce with wide grins. They dressed up in luxury brands from head to toe. Then, I saw my husband, Alfred, gently wrap one of his arms around my glamorous sister’s shoulder. I wanted to rush over and question them. But a speeding truck slammed into me and sent me flying away. I lay in a pool of blood while staring at them indignantly. I heard them chuckle softly. “What a pity… She was so close to enjoying a good life.” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I drew the lots. Since they liked to pretend to be broke, I would make it a reality!

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

I slumped on the floor and hugged my knees into my chest. I glanced up at Blake and my eyes started to pool, looking at him. "I- I am scared. I-I am scared to have kids. I am scared to have feelings l-like this. I am scared of everything that is connected in love." My voice broadcasting sadness when I said those words and tears started streaming down my face."I have f-fear Blake. I have a fear that I don't want to encounter but they are still coming after me." I broke into sobs and I buried my face into my knees. --Ava Celestine YuA 24 years old girl, independent, strong on the outside, hard-working, reached her dreams at the age of 24, have a simple life on her own, no fairytale dream in life. What can happen when someone comes into her life that makes her feel the feeling and emotions she does not want to experience because of her fear that she hid for years? Blake Adam EcollinA 26 years old, fourth youngest billionaire in New York City, handsome, charming, a hidden billionaire who doesn't like paparazzi but still everyone loves him, rude, cold, and ruthless CEO who owns BLADE RUSH Techno. He knew that almost all the women chase after him, he isn't the one who chases her. --Is it a choice between love and fear? Which one she will she choose?Or is it a battle of love and fear? Which one will prevail?---GRAMMATICAL ERRORS- (Read at your own risk.)IG: azelea_avery

I've been in a relationship with my brother's best friend, Emilio Slater, for three years, but he's never been willing to make our relationship public. Still, I never doubt his love for me. After all, he's been with 99 women before, yet he stops looking at anyone else because of me. Even if I have a slight cold, he drops billion-dollar projects and rushes home to take care of me. But on my birthday, when I'm excitedly preparing to share the news of my pregnancy with Emilio, he forgets my birthday for the first time and vanishes without a trace. The housekeeper tells me he's gone to pick up someone important from the airport. I rush there and see him holding flowers, his face full of nervous anticipation, waiting for a woman—one who looks strikingly like me. Later, my brother tells me she's Emilio's first love, the one he can never forget. Emilio defied his parents for her, and he fell apart after she dumped him. He sought out 99 women who resembled her to fill the void. My brother speaks with admiration for Emilio's deep devotion, unaware that I'm one of those stand-ins. I watch Emilio and his first love for a long, long time. Then, I return to the hospital without hesitation. "Doctor, I don't want this child anymore."

Everyone in Ieplad knows Leopoldo Vece, the Don of the Vece family, loves guns but not women—until me. Ten years into our marriage, my adoptive father, Raffaello Conti, lies dying of kidney failure. Leopoldo launches a global hunt for a donor, sparing no expense to save him. He finds her—a young, fragile woman—and spends millions solving her every problem to ensure she is ready for the transplant. On the day of the surgery, she vanishes. I rush to her home in a panic, only to find my husband holding her gently in his arms, soothing her in a soft voice. "If you're afraid of the pain, don't donate then. I'll find another donor." "Is there time?" she asks quietly. "I heard Lucia's adoptive father is at death's door." Leopoldo brushes his hand over her hair, his voice indulgent. "I'll search the world again if I have to. You're still young; this burden isn't yours to carry." As my heart shatters, my phone rings. I answer numbly. The person on the other end of the line says, "Signora Conti, we regret to inform you that Raffaello Conti just passed away. We waited as long as we could for the donor, but his body gave out five minutes ago." I return to the hospital and handle the funeral arrangements alone. After that, I call Marianna D'Andrea, the Don's mother, and say, "I agree to divorce Leopoldo. Please help me disappear."

As soon as I receive my year-end bonus, I transfer 100 thousand dollars to my wife, Zoe Steele, so that she can prepare the holiday gifts for both families right away. I even tell her to buy the best quality gifts for our parents, especially the box of premium liquor meant for my dad. On New Year's Eve, I rush home to have dinner with my parents. But weirdly enough, Dad, who's an avid drinker, starts having tea instead of liquor at the dining table. This leaves me perplexed. "Dad, why aren't you cracking open a bottle of liquor for yourself during the holidays?" With a smile on my face, I get up to my feet so that I can carry the box of liquor over. "Zoe had someone buy the liquor for you, you know. I hear that the taste is exceptional." "Stop!" Dad slams his pipe against the table loudly, his face a starking shade of crimson. "Edgar, don't ever send such gifts home. I know that life is difficult for you in the city and that making money is hard. We Kennedys may be poor, but we are people with pride! "Now, everyone in the village is gossiping about us behind our backs! They claim that I've been boasting about your wealth!" Dad's words confuse me to no end. After I unscrew a bottle of liquor, I sip from it, only to feel thunderstruck. This isn't premium liquor at all! This is just mineral water packaged as liquor!

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

Because I was born under the Moon’s blessing, my body ripened earlier than any she-wolf my age. On the night of my eighteenth turning, my brother—fearing I’d be force-claimed by brutes—entrusted me to his blood-oath brother: Silas, Alpha of the Northern Peak. The first time we met, his golden eyes locked on my bared neck and never left. His fangs sank into my scent gland that very night, claiming me beneath the full moon. For four years since, I’ve been his scribe by dawn light, and his whore by moonrise. He trained my body to fit his every hunger, covering me in bite marks, yet never left the Mating Mark that would make me his true mate. Four years later, his confidante from the Central Territories returned. He tore from my heat-soaked sheets without a backward glance, racing to the moon-platform to greet her. I followed, stomach hollow, scent glands throbbing with his phantom claim. Only an hour before, his hand—scarred from my own teeth—had clamped over my mouth as he rutted me into the furs. Now, before the assembled Pack, he stroked another woman’s silver hair. “Amara, don’t show that jealous look. Have you forgotten—four years ago, you were the one who crawled into my bed while I was moon-mad.” “This tantrum is unbecoming.” He was right. I had chosen this life myself. But when I finally chose to leave him, he was the first to break.

Misty I looked at the faces of my pups on the screen, being away from them was so hard but I had to make it better. I had to provide for them. Give them the best chance I could as a single uneducated Mother. They'd had such a crap start to life, mostly my own fault because if I hadnt stayed when he continued to allow the alcohol to become him, they wouldnt have been through the hell, but then if I hadnt stayed they all wouldnt exist and i dont regret any of them, No matter how they were conceived. My Life, My Legacy, My loves. I listened to them tell me about all their adventures and the feasts they ate from banana leaves. Id put out an ad searching for somebody to take care of them while I worked, somebody to love them and assure them i wasnt abandoning them just trying to make things better. Id found those angels, theyd accepted accomodation food and utilities in exchange for making sure my pups were fed, clean and cared for. I thanked the driver for the ride and entered the roadhouse, passed all the food that made my stomach rumble from its 48 hour emptiness, made use of the amenities and headed out back to try and get another ride north that would hopefully take me all the way back to my pups. I took a seat at an empty table, aware of the fact i hadnt showered in 3 days, I kept my eyes down and avoided contact listening for conversation that would point me to a driver heading north. That was the beginning of the rest of my life.