Novel & Cerita Seven Minutes Eren Yeager

[Ms. Fleming, will you continue the treatment? If you will, don't forget to collect your medicine.] [Ms. Fleming, your condition is quite serious. It will only deteriorate if you don't treat it. Don't give up. If you do, you'll forget everything in seven days.] I looked at the messages from Dr. Chester Richmond for a long time without replying. Perhaps having amnesia was not such a bad thing after all. I could not recall anything worth remembering in my entire life.

By the time they had done this and Grenville had chained him up using chains cast in silver, they were all sweating profusely and out of breath. The tech ran back to his work station and changed the recorded footage back to the live feed before the recordings he had made ran out. He had only recorded thirty minutes worth of footage as he had no idea the fucker was so heavy, he had thought thirty minutes was more than enough but they had just made it by the skin of their teeth. He breathed a sigh of relief, they had done it...just. He turned away from his computer to see everyone just staring at the giant on the floor. No one had expected him to be as big as he was. “Those chains will hold wo

Jeremy agreed, jumped onto the dining table, and began walking on top of the gold luxurious table. "Will you fucking get down?" Griffith uttered dangerously. "This is not some playground." He must be Griffith, the most serious, stoned-face Alpha, among the SEVEN.

Dead on impact. The Reaper felt bad for me—said I didn't deserve to go out like that. Gave me seven days. One last shot to say goodbye. When I came back, it was already dark. I kept thinking—I wish I had wings. Maybe they were waiting. But under the moonlight, as I got closer, I saw through the dining room window— Alex, sitting between my parents. Brian and Ruby, side by side. Red wine. Fancy food. Everyone dressed like they were starring in a holiday ad.

His eyes were bloodshot. "Kathy, how could you do this? We've been together for seven years. Seven years, and you're ready to walk away over something like this? Have you stopped caring about the company too?" Seven years. Hearing that only made it sound more ridiculous. I looked at him, and my tone turned icy. "And what have you actually given me in the past seven years? You know exactly how many nights I stayed up working for your company and how much effort I put into it.

After my brother and fake heir, Damon Stewart, runs someone over, he frames me for it. My fiancee immediately breaks off our engagement and marries him. I'm facing prison time, but Crystal Morgan—my childhood sweetheart who's also a lawyer—resolutely chooses to marry me. She works tirelessly to clear my name, and eventually she gets Damon sent to prison. However, her family runs into financial trouble, and her ailing mother is facing prison time herself. To repay a debt of gratitude, I, an accountant, take the blame for the crime and spend seven years in prison. But on the day I'm released, I overhear Crystal and her mother, Lilian Murphy, talking from behind the gates. "Crystal, Elija

When the man looked up, my heart didn't even skip a beat. It was Damian. He was a skeleton of a man. His suit was a tattered rag, caked in mud and dried blood. One of his eyes was clouded and scarred, and his face was a roadmap of trauma. The pride of the Moretti heir had been hollowed out; he looked like a beggar who had been living in the gutters. "Selena!" he cried, struggling against the guards. They let him go, and he collapsed at the base of the steps, crawling toward me.

I turned, ready to leave this nauseating place. "Corey! Don’t go!" Deanna suddenly broke down, screaming after me. "Even if the Cunninghams collapse, I won’t let the Grahams walk away unscathed! I gave you seven years of my life. Even if I have to die, I’ll take a piece of your family down with me!" I stopped and slowly turned back, looking at her like she was nothing more than a clown putting on a show. "Deanna, do you really think you have that kind of power? You’re way out of your depth."

The most luxurious mansion, the most expensive piano, and even lessons from the world's top masters. Instead, he'd pretended to be poor and even made his daughter perform in the park for money at such a young age. He regretted it. Now Micah had only one thought. He needed to find us as quickly as possible. He wanted a chance to make things right. Micah stood in the airport security room. The blue light from the electronic screens cast his bloodshot eyes in a sickly pallor. He stared fixedly at the surveillance footage from seven days ago, watching me lead Anna by her small hand as we walked slowly toward the boarding gate. Our steps were resolute, as if we had no attachment left to this plac

My husband, Harrison Knight, was a workaholic. When stomach pain landed me in the hospital, he had his assistant send me medication. When my mother underwent surgery, he was abroad negotiating an acquisition. In seven years of marriage, he'd missed three of my birthdays and five of our anniversaries. He always said, "The company's still getting off the ground. I can't afford to slow down." I understood. Years ago, his first love, Celeste Foster, had left him because he was poor. Afterward, he'd sworn he would make something of himself. He went on business trips, had late nights, and worked himself to the bone. For seven years, Harrison had pushed himself relentlessly, going from a pen