Novel & Cerita Seeing A White Dog Spiritual Meaning

What started off as a plan to control the prince backfired in ways Anberine did not expect nor did she ever see coming. Seeing this as her way of getting revenge for all the times he had tormented and made her life a living hell, she is now forced to see things in another perspective thanks to the side effects to the plan. Will the original plan come to fruition? Or will there be unspeakable consequences unveiling more dangers that are concealed within the castle walls?

At the entrance of Marriott International, Kellan walked out of the revolving door in a white suit. The wind lifted a corner of his shirt, revealing the cufflinks of his custom-made shirt. This time it was a diamond-studded Suzaku, exactly the same as the one in the presidential suite five years ago. Eva's breath missed a beat until Rosie suddenly screamed, "Dad, you're so handsome!" The carriage froze instantly. Kellan raised his eyebrows and looked at the passenger seat. The little girl was clinging to the seat, her eyes shining like stars: "You look like the prince in my painting!" She had just drawn an "ideal dad" in kindergarten yesterday. In the crooked lines, there was a tall man wearing a neat suit, his cuffs gleaming. Eva's face flushed red, and she hurriedly explained, "The child is just talking nonsense..." But when she looked up, she met Kellan's eyes—he was staring at Rosie, and his dark eyes were filled with tenderness that he himself didn't even notice. This man who made the whole business world tremble, at this moment, raised the corner of his lips towards the child, although it was only a very shallow arc, but it made the temperature in the car rise quietly. When the car arrived at the destination, Kellan suddenly said before getting off the car: "Your daughter is very cute." *** Imagine your child calling a stranger “Daddy”… and neither of you realize he’s actually her real father — the man who got you pregnant years ago before fate tore you apart deciding you won't see his face or know him. Now he’s standing right in front of you, powerful, untouchable, and staring at your daughter with a tenderness he can’t explain....

"Three rules: Don't talk to me, Don't touch me, Stay out of my business." Hearing that from her supposed husband on their wedding night, Sasha White or rather Sasha Brown had to question herself about the meaning of marriage. Being married to the handsome billionaire, Michael Brown, Sasha couldn't explain her joy course as fate will have it, she had been crushing on him since their school days but couldn't pursue him due to the fact that it was know the whole school, that he is gay. ------------------------ Contains two books in the series.

On the day I'm set to go into labor, I plead to my husband, Timothy Langford, to take me to the hospital when I'm two centimeters dilated. However, a pissed-looking Timothy orders his men to lock me up in a sauna room that's heated to 356 degrees Fahrenheit. This is all because my estimated labor date is one day earlier than my widowed sister-in-law, Natalie Thornton. Since Timothy is bent on making Natalie's baby the oldest grandson of the Langford family, he instructs his men to inject me with 100 labor-suppressant injections. No matter how much I beg Timothy to spare our baby, he remains unmoved. Having received 99 injections, I feel a world of pain crashing down on me, seeing as I'm already suffering from contractions to begin with. But Timothy is the one who injects the final labor-suppressant injection into my huge pregnancy bump. As he gazes at my agonized and writhing form, he says coldly, "It's already difficult for Natalie to survive in this world after losing my older brother. As her brother-in-law, I'm merely fulfilling her wish to become a mother. "Still, you refuse to spare her. It's not enough for you to force her to survive overseas on her own; you even plan on receiving labor-induction injections just to give birth to your baby on an earlier date! "It seems that I've spoiled you far too much for you to have the guts to pull this stunt off! The doctor already told me that once I've given you the labor-suppressant injections and leave you somewhere extremely hot, it can stop you from giving birth. You're only allowed to give birth once Natalie is out of labor." At that moment, I've completely given up on life. The moment Timothy witnesses Natalie's baby being born, his eyes are filled with tears of happiness. He sets off firework after firework to celebrate the grand birth. Later on, as Timothy gazes at Natalie's newborn, he finally remembers me and our unborn baby. When he's about to order his men to take me to the hospital, he receives a phone call from his assistant. "The hospital has called to inform you to take Mrs. Langford's body away."

The day I was about to quit the game, countless floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Finally! The villainess is quitting!] [Now Janet Cole doesn’t have to worry about getting exposed for using her account to flirt online.] [The heroine is so smart–she always uses voice chat in-game. The villainess has no idea.] [Janet is living the dream–using her max-level account to juggle five top-tier players at once!] [At 2 PM today, she’s meeting her 'No.1 catch'–the cold, untouchable campus heartthrob Cedric Barnes!] [Assassin god tomorrow, rich scion the day after… her time management is insane!] The Janet they were talking about… was the fake heiress who had taken my place in my own family. She had been impersonating me–using my account to flirt with five elite players at once? Then more comments appeared… [Why hasn’t the villainess left yet? The male lead is already waiting.] [This is the first sweet date between the leads–can’t wait!] I turned to look at Janet, touching up her makeup in front of the mirror–and suddenly, it all clicked. The 'villainess' they were talking about… was me. So the real heiress–me–was nothing more than a disposable side character, a stepping stone for the fake one? A faint smile curled on my lips. If she could impersonate me online and play the field, then me showing up in person and stealing everything... wouldn't be too much, right?

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Institute—and the only person in the world with real deep-sea rescue experience. When my younger brother's submarine went down and he called for help from 35,000 feet below, I hung up on him. Then, calm and unhurried, I went straight to the police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research data. A few minutes later, my father called, furious. "Your brother's life is hanging by a thread—where the hell are you?! I demand you to get to the site and save him right now, or you won't see a single penny of the family fortune!" I pulled the blanket over myself and said into the phone, perfectly composed, "Busy. Don't bother me—I'm trying to sleep."

Over the weekend, I went with my best friend to one of the premium auto shops owned by my company to get her car serviced. Just as we were about to leave, someone stopped me and ordered me to wipe down her car. I explained that I didn't work there, but she got angry anyway. She flipped a 10-cent coin at my face. "Consider it an honor that I'm letting you wash my car. A broke girl like you has probably never even seen a luxury car in her life! I'm trying to broaden your horizons, and you're not even grateful?" I shot back, "You're right. I've never met a car owner who can only spare 10 cents. Consider my horizons broadened." She exploded on the spot. "Do you even know who I am? The chairman of the Penzo Group is my mother-in-law! Scared now?" I paused for a beat, then calmly called Leo Penzo. "I hear your mother went behind my back and found you a new wife?"

Right before the last full-length practice exam ahead of the SAT, my boyfriend, Blake Romero, who had always ranked in the top ten, somehow ended up with a score of zero. His eyes were red as he clung to me, his voice shaking while he said he had developed severe test anxiety. "Samantha, there's no way I'll get in this year. Can you stay back and retake the year with me? I can't do this without you." Looking at how pale he was, I almost gave in. On my way to the school clinic to grab him some meds to calm his nerves, I accidentally overheard him talking to a girl from a poor family. "Blake, what if Samantha finds out you're lying to her?" His voice turned soft, almost indulgent. "Relax. She loves me so much that she would give up anything for me. Even if she finds out, so what? Besides, her family's loaded. Losing a year won't matter to her. Arrington University only has two spots this year. As long as Samantha doesn't take the exam, those spots are ours." Standing outside the door, I felt as if I had just had a bucket of ice poured over me. So this was his plan! He was willing to ruin my future just to clear the way for the girl he really cared about. What he didn't realize was that Arrington University had only ever been my backup, something I chose just to stay by his side. Without him dragging me down, I could aim for something better.

I ditched a shot at studying abroad to help my boyfriend, Gavin Censori, launch his startup. Stuck it out with him through seven brutal years. Then boom—success hit, and so did the ghosting. On Valentine's Day, he hit me with the classic "work's crazy" excuse. Instead of showing up, he had some random delivery dude drop off a box of cosmetic samples. Samples. Later that night, his secretary Rebecca popped up on my feed, flexing hard. Caption: [With a boss like this, why go home early?] Pic: A box of high-end makeup. Same brand. Hers weren't samples. I dropped a comment: [You're doing great at your sidechick job. Gold star.] Gavin called instantly, losing it. "What's your problem? She's just an employee! I bust my ass making money for you, and you're always jealous!" I laughed. Didn't even yell. Just dumped him. Seven years, and I'd never touched a dime of his. Joke's on him—his precious startup? Secretly bankrolled by me. Fast-forward three years. Business summit. He rolled in wearing a tailored suit. The second he spotted me with a bag of bottles, his smirk kicked in. "Didn't like those cosmetics I gave you, huh? Now look at you—reduced to bottle collecting?"

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.