Sentence With Suppose

Greer was never meant to exist. Hybrids like her are executed at birth, erased before they can become a problem. Smuggled out of the pack as a newborn, Greer grows up human, unaware of what she is or what will happen when her wolf awakens. Until she meets the Alpha. Rurik knows exactly what she is the moment he scents her. A contamination. A death sentence. A mistake that should have been corrected decades ago. Her first heat is not pleasure. It’s a biological catastrophe. One that nearly kills her. One Rurik knows cannot be soothed, only endured. When the pack comes to finish what should have been done at her birth, Rurik stops the blade with three words. She survived him. Claimed instead of executed, Greer learns the truth too late. Rurik didn’t save her because she deserves to live. He saved her because she might survive his heat. And if she doesn’t, the sentence will still be carried out. By him. Dark paranormal erotica. Explicit. Dangerous. Consent under biological pressure. Survival not guaranteed.

While I'm poisoned with wolfsbane, a female Omega named Rita Thorne has accused me of being a traitor of the pack. But my husband, Fenrir Grimm, refuses to listen to my explanation. As he holds Rita in his arms, he tells me icily, "Cynthia Huntley, you're no longer worthy of being my Luna. From today onward, Rita shall replace you as the Luna. You, on the other hand, shall be exiled from the pack." Not only does Rita brand a mark of humiliation on my face, but she also secretly swaps out the antidote for the wolfsbane with something else. She wants me to die as a disfigured she-wolf. I don't want to, nor am I willing to accept this fate. The moment before Death embraces me fully, I pray to the Moon Goddess desperately. When moonlight illuminates the land, I hear the Moon Goddess's loving voice. "Cynthia, you're given 48 more hours to live."

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

Rossi Giraldo is the dancer of a very popular club in Bogotá, a woman who sells pleasure and vanity. One night a physically attractive, millionaire, desirable and, above all, dangerous mobster arrives at the place; She believes that he requested her services to have a night of passion with her, but it was the opposite, however, something very unexpected happened, and this gangster proposed that she sign a marriage certificate and move with him to Scotland. This confused Rossi a lot, but he clarified that he was not asking her to marry him because he loved her, but because he knew that they both had a child in common. And that's when this mobster named Dorian Torres showed signs of not being completely human, but some kind of werewolf, and Rossi began to understand why the son she had at home also showed signs of being a wolf. From then on, Rossi feels intimacy and in danger when she sees for the first time the face of the man who impregnated her six years ago, so she chose the most intelligent option, which was the decision to sign the marriage certificate offered to her the father of her son and move with him to another country, where they would proceed to educate little Thomas as the son of an Alpha wolf is educated. But what will happen to the marriage that she will have with Dorian Torres? Would he ever love her?

My parents' enemy kidnaps me and livestreams chopping off my fingers just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire Internet searches for my parents. But what they don't know is that the captain who appeared in the livestream is my biological father. At that moment, he's on a beach in Hashford, setting off magnificent fireworks for his adopted daughter. And on their barbecue table, the livestream of my fingers being severed is playing. Later on, when I survive long enough to be rescued, I reach out my mangled hand to touch my parents. They recoil in disgust and leave without looking back, taking the adopted daughter out for Wersole food. But they don't know that the thing hidden within my mangled palm will make them regret their actions beyond measure.

Sera Quinn had one job. Marry a dying man, keep her head down, and wait. Nobody told her that Damien Voss did not die on anyone's schedule but his own. She was twenty two years old when her stepfather sat her down at the kitchen table and explained her options. Her mother was sick. The bills were swallowing everything. And the most powerful billionaire in the country was lying unconscious in a private hospital ward with his family desperate enough to pay a small fortune to any woman willing to stand beside him at the altar. All Sera had to do was say yes. She said yes. She had no other word left. She moved into his mansion and tried to be invisible. She talked to him in the dark of his room every night because there was nobody else and because she was sure he could not hear her. She told him things she had never told anyone. She told him she was scared. She told him she was pregnant. Then she overheard four words that changed everything and she ran before the sun came up. Four years later she had rebuilt herself from nothing. A career. A spine. Twin children with their father's eyes. A case file she had been building alone, one quiet hour at a time, that connected a road barrier report to a name that would put people in prison. She had one rule. Stay away from Damien Voss. Then her four year old daughter hacked into his private server and left him a message. Damien was already in his car before Sera found out what her daughter had done. He was not coming to talk. And Sera Quinn was finally done running.

"I didn't do anything wrong," I choked out. "You stuck your nose into my private matters," he hissed. "No one can sentence me without proof," I challenged him. He straightened up. Any traces of a smile abruptly disappeared from his face. "You still don't get it, do you? I own this city. It means that if I say you go to jail, that means you go to jail." He leaned over me again, his stare piercing right through me, "And if I say that I want you, that means you are already mine." My jaw tensed as I resisted an urge to talk back. This wasn't a battle I could win, and this wasn't a man I could win against... How did I get myself into all that mess?! *** My name is Cora Bell, and I'm about to marry Aren Lan, New York's most wanted bachelor. A dream come true? I highly doubt that. The guy is an arrogant, wealthy beyond imagination, asshole. Not to mention that our relationship is based solely on a contract, a contract I was forced to sign when I accidentally ruined this guy's engagement... I used to dream of a simple life. I wanted to graduate from university and work as a software programmer, but my fate chose a different path for me to follow. First, I had to give up on my studies to take care of dear Grandma, and now I'm forced to play the role of a manipulative jerk's loving fiancée! The problem is that my husband-to-be is insanely sexy and enjoys teasing me a bit too much. How the hell am I going to survive being close to him throughout the two years of our fake marriage?!

I thought getting a new foster brother would be weird. I didn’t expect him to look like he walked off a Netflix show—blue eyes, tattoos, and the personality of a brick wall. My little brother’s obsessed with him. My parents act like he’s made of glass. Me? I think Carmelo’s hiding something. And I plan to find out what.

At dinner, Tiffany White grabs my fiance's phone and spends 100 thousand dollars on a designer bag. She even sticks her tongue at me. "Come on, Meredith. You're loaded. You won't mind such a small amount, right? Shawn and I share everything. His money is my money," she says. Everyone at the table waits for me to lose my temper or smile and let it slide like a saint. Instead, I calmly take out a voice recorder and my laptop from my bag and adjust my gold-rimmed glasses. "100 thousand meets the threshold for criminal filing. Since you said you two share everything, I have to ask—is this embezzlement or an illegal transfer tied to an improper personal relationship? "Oh, and what you just said about 'his money is my money'? I recorded that. According to the supplemental clauses in our prenup and the company bylaws, I'm officially initiating an asset-freezing order against Shawn Harrison." I turn to Tiffany. "Enjoy your free meals in prison, Ms. White." Shawn is livid. "It was just a joke, Meredith. Is it really necessary to ruin me over this?" I hit the "enter" key. "Sorry. In my book, there are no jokes—only bad debt."

We should have been born to hate each other, but love has a will of its own, and I can't turn my back on you even though the whole world hates me. * I turned toward the woods and squinted. Then I smelled something in the air. A scent so strong that it makes me freeze. And shortly after, I heard a howl of pain, just a moment, but enough to make me sure something was wrong. I clutched my bag, ready to open it to grab my phone when something jumped over the fence between the school and the woods. It landed right in front of me, and I thought I was seeing a werewolf. But no. it’s not a werewolf like I’ve always known. He stood on his two feet. And blood was smeared on his snout and his silver-feathered, clawed hands. I can’t scream. I could only stand transfixed while my eyes locked on his eyes which were as dark as the night sky.