Sakura Fit & Healthy Therapy

Livia's perfect little life in the Umbra Pack Changed instantly the day her family and pack members were murdered by the bloodthirsty Nightshade's warriors, she was taken in by a group of rogues, where she tried to train her strength to become powerful so she could be able to avenge her pack. The rogue group was invaded by the Crescent pack and she was captured by the warriors. Life in the Crescent pack was soul-crushing for Livia as she felt she had lost her chance of revenge against the Nightshade Pack, but it all changed after she met Lucius. Lucius who is set to become the next Alpha of the Crescent Pack and also Livia's MATE wants nothing to do with her as he sees her as a weakling who is not fit to rule by his side. But fate always has its way.

I lived a life as a housewife for ten years doing all the household chores and trying to fit into the role my husband Mike wanted me to play. But I was not a housewife I was Hannah Vane, the daughter of a business family. I gave up my wealth to see if love was more important than money. I was wrong. The night I found out about my husbands betrayal something inside me changed. The weak woman he thought I was disappeared. I became The Architect, a planner and the rightful owner of Vane Industries. At first I wanted revenge against my cheating husband.. It turned into something more. I wanted to take down the system expose greed and become a woman who would not be powerless again. I was not just taking back my life I was taking everything. I was doing it as Hannah Vane.

A path of sexual exploration! Aastha and her father doesn't fit in a room together as her father goes around sleeping after he cheated on her mother. Life gave a chance and she moved out as she get in a situation where she finds herself pleasuring an old man double than her father's age. While her father, Vikas also fulfill his desire with a young girl he was after since a few months. What would she learn from all this? Would she ever able be to understand her father through the men she sleeps with? What is there in her? Why her father is like the way to show other? He is really that bad! How will Aastha deal with everything that comes her, will she ever be loved?

“See, malyshka, you walk in here wearing that little skirt and dare to talk about modesty?” I glanced down at my blazer skirt, heat crawling up my neck as his gaze dragged over my legs. “If I weren’t your patient…” He turned slightly, gesturing to the examination bed, his voice dropped dangerously low, “I'd put you right there and demonstrate… “Mr. Ferrari!” I snapped, leaping to my feet, my heartbeat pounding in my ear now. I had never met a man as vulgar, audacious, and devastatingly magnetic as Gideon Ferrari, especially not one wearing a hospital gown. My first therapy session with the sex-addict patient who should have been a simple case… became the moment my ordinary world spinned off its axis. I wasn’t supposed to think of him. I wasn’t supposed to dream of him. And I definitely wasn’t supposed to wake up breathless, aching, and ashamed of how desperately I wanted him. I prayed I’d never see him again. But part of me wondered, hoped, if he’d ever cross my path once more. When he did, everything changed. It became clear that there was more to this infuriating gorgeous Russian than meets the eye. He seemed too willingly to carry my weight and I had deep wounds from the past that needed healing but the problem was, he's already taken. Will we get away with satisfying our deepest dark desires in secret or will he eventually step up and claim me as his forever?

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

"Hell Gabby I'm such a douche." "I know." "I'm sorry." What defenses did she think of again? Were they even up in the first place? The dull pounding in her heart had better be the early stages of a heart attack. She moved then. Not to him, but away from the door. Seeing him in the flesh like something molded from her deepest desires and darkest fantasies, wearing a tapered black suit that practically worshipped his tall frame, an unbuttoned shirt that brought awareness to his hard chest and broad shoulders making her wonder how many buttons she had to open to see him in all his glory, she'd seen enough of him to compel her to not think. She was a healthy woman after all. Gabrielle Lot or Gabby as she loved to be called was one of the leading names in the Fashion industry, but she didn't do it in just one day she had to work and fight for it. Even if it meant disappointing her parent. Everything was going on well for her, with the success of her business waxing stronger and her name getting acknowledgment from different spheres of the fashion and business world. It changed when she met the one who broke her heart, Tan. Would she risk her heart being broken again or would she forget about the business proposition brought to her by Tan.

The morning was cold and I was currency. My father handed me to Dimitri Volkov, Bratva, like I was a contract clause. I said no at the altar. Loud enough for everyone to hear. The priest kept going. Dimitri didn’t even blink. That was fact one: I was married without consent, in Chicago, to a man who accepted silence as agreement. I left him later. Not in rage. In clarity, after I saw another girl get caught in his world with no choice, just like me. Then I went to war. Law school had taught me precision, so I used it. Civil suits. Asset forfeiture. Anonymous tips to the right agencies. I took apart everything legitimate he’d built, piece by piece, until he bled territories and pride. He showed up bruised once, signed over forty percent of his clean empire to my name, brought therapy receipts. That was fact two: I dismantled the man who caged me, on paper, without firing a shot. I still have the necklace. The one he left in my lap that first night. I wore it through the worst, through the year I rebuilt alone, through every hearing. Last month I was pregnant in a courtroom, arguing a case I won. He was in the gallery. The diamonds sat above my collar. No one asked. I never explained. That was fact three: I took something from that night and made it mine. It doesn’t belong to him anymore. It doesn’t belong to what he did. It belongs to me.

"She’s just a legal vessel for my heir. Once the child is born, I’ll dispose of her." Those ruthless words shattered Serena’s three-year marriage to billionaire, Rafael Navarro. Hidden in the shadows, she watched her cold-hearted husband passionately entangle with his own stepsister, realizing she was merely a biological pawn meant to bear a healthy child to bypass their twisted, genetically doomed bloodline. Disgusted and fiercely protective of the newly discovered life growing inside her, Serena refused to be their sacrificial lamb. On a violent stormy night, she orchestrated her own tragic death, plunging a car off a cliff and burying her naive love at the bottom of the deep abyss. Five years later, the weak, discarded wife is dead. In her place stands Dr. S, a globally feared and untouchable medical genius. Karma strikes with absolute vengeance when the child Rafael ultimately had with his stepsister is born with severe, rotting genetic defects. Desperate and out of options, the once-arrogant billionaire is forced to his knees in public, offering his empire to beg Dr. S for the boy's life, completely oblivious that the ruthless woman looking down at him is the wife he drove to her grave. But Rafael's ultimate descent into madness begins when he crosses paths with Serena’s four-year-old prodigy possessing his exact emerald-green eyes, a son who coldly looks right through him, leaving Rafael to burn in the ashes of his late regret.

Caleb Smith's best friend, Kevin Baker, calls me in a panic and tells me that Caleb has been in a terrible racing accident. Without a second thought, I rush to the hospital and donate two pints of blood to save him. As I walk past a hospital room, I freeze. There's Caleb—standing perfectly healthy beside a hospital bed. Kevin throws his head back and howls with laughter. "It's April Fools' Day. We actually managed to trick Winnie Jewel into donating two pints of blood. Too bad that it's useless, though. We might as well feed it to the stray dogs." Vivian Jewel, lying in a hospital bed, looks up at Caleb. "Caleb, don't you think that's a bit much?" A fond smile curves Caleb's lips as he replies, "I can't help it. Where does Winnie get the nerve to take your place? She should have stayed in the orphanage, but since she forced her way back into the Jewel family, she can't blame us for taking your side." Kevin jumps in eagerly. "This year marks the eighth year since she returned to the Jewel family, and the eighth year we've been pranking her." Their undisguised mockery spills out of the room. I pull out my phone and contact my aunt, Gianna Jewel. "Aunt Gianna, I’ve decided. Let's leave the country."

On Benedict Bradford’s birthday, he posted a link on social media with a taunting offer: [$1.99 buys you a prank—target: Sansa Stormcloud.] So when I arrived at his party, the guests drenched me in water, hurled glasses, smashed cake in my face, and shoved me down the stairs. Benedict sneered as he stood over me, arm slung around Lina Kipling. “You think you’re fit to marry into the Bradfords? Pathetic. “You’re not even in Lina’s league. You’re worth nothing more than a couple of dollars!” I picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and handed him an invitation. “You know, Benedict, the Bradfords have another heir. “And shortly afterwards, you’ll address me respectfully as your sister-in-law.”