Slipped Pronunciation

When I was a kid my entire family committed suicide. Weird, I know. Unfortunately, they thought themselves as unfit to live and ended their life. They had gotten themselves stuck in something deep and dark with a couple of the demons around our neighborhood and their contract was coming due. So at the age of only 13, I was left to fend for myself and survive in a world full of werewolves and demons. ~ I am Lisa Summers and my family was once one of the most powerful werewolf packs in North America. That is, however, only because of a contract made by a demon. After their deaths, the pack diminished to almost nothing. The spell cast upon the pack members had been lifted and they saw no reason to stick around. I was left with no one to support me and I was f****d to find my own way through life. My title as the Alpha's daughter slowly slipped back to Omega in a matter of hours. Nobody wanted anything to do with me. I was a freak in their eyes. They were embarrassed of me, I humiliated them. I was supposed to be strong and lead the pack when her parents couldn't and I wasn't able to. I was an Omega at heart. I always had been, no matter the spell the demon put on everyone. I was an Omega and they were finally beginning to see that. I was weak, pathetic, unloved, and an outcast. Everyone despised me. People who I thought of as family members disowned me. For the first time in my life I was completely and utterly alone. Until I met him. He is the one for me . Only him.

A Spin-off to Rejected Mythical Luna —Julian X Robin Story They say destiny determines how our lives play out, that the Moon Goddess shapes our paths. But if that’s true, then she did a terrible job with mine. Because as I’m being dragged away, all eyes on me and tears burning down my cheeks, I finally understand how cruel destiny can be. After surviving the war with my Alpha and the Luna, a new battle begins, one I didn’t choose but must finish. Revenge? Justice? Maybe that’s what I should live for. Maybe that’s what should keep me fighting, to hunt down the Men of Shadows who destroyed everything I loved. But as I run through that field with the people I now dare to call friends, none of that seems to matter anymore. All I want is my life back. My family. My pack. Him. And if that means killing again, I’ll do it, only this time, I knew better than to do it alone. “Did you really think leaving me behind was the best choice?” he asked, his breath hot against my skin. “I came to you twice, Julian,” he says, his grip firm, his voice trembling with something between pain and love. “You pushed me away both times. This time, I won’t let you fight alone.” Then his lips crashed against mine, and a single tear slipped free. Was this the retribution I’d been seeking… or just the beginning of a curse written by fate.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

"Vanessa, I really feel sorry for you. The person your husband has always loved is me." Isabella stated smugly. Vanessa frowned eyeing at Isabella’s bulging belly, "but you’re already Austin Jones Sister-in-law and pregnant." Isabella sneered, "soon, I’d make him divorce you." Before Vanessa could realize what was going on, a loud thud was heard, and Isabella purposely slipped down the stairs and vanessa tripped herself while trying to save Isabella. A scandal broke out in the Jones family, one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in New York. Austin Jones's wife Vanessa was held responsible for his sister-in-law, Isabella’s fall and her baby’s death. Over the years, Austin Jones had only had Isabella in his heart, and he married Vanessa to cover up his love on Isabella. But her fall made Austin go berserk and he punished Vanessa by making her kneel in front of the Jones villa the whole night while she was already drenched and had a high fever. Realizing her three years of married life was nothing but a joke, Vanessa regretted leaving her family and all her assets behind just to marry Austin Jones. Disappointed, Vanessa proposed divorce and left the city, and started a new life. She went back to her family and became a rich lady with billions of assets! Now, Vanessa returned as the new General Manager of the Grant Corporation. Could she be able to make Austin regret leaving her? Would Austin fall for her knowing how charming she had become?

Warning: DARK ROMANCE Story contains detailed mature scenes possessing dubious consent not recommended for age group below 18 years old. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Prologue Shadows engulfed him in a beautiful embrace. He looked like an angel with devilish intentions. It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended upon her and even then she couldn't do anything but shake in fear. She knew making a run for it won't do a thing, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth to scream but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her, tears gathered in her orbs with horrible anticipation. With his each step nearer she gripped the frame of her window tighter hoping to keep her balance. It took him three steps to be inches away from her body. He slowly took his suit jacket off, making himself comfortable as he amusingly watched her shaken face. She was so horror-stricken to even look at his face. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her eyes to his. His eyes slipped from the hold of her eyes to her lips in a second. She grew self conscious all over again. His heated gaze on her lips was unwavering. In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet and it was all it took for him to descent on her lips.

Anastasia Kain and I were childhood sweethearts, but we resented each other for a lifetime. She blamed me for making decisions without her consent. I had awakened her memories and driven her first love to jump off a building. I blamed her for breaking her promise. She once swore she would love me forever, yet after losing her memory, she fell for someone else. We were married, but we lived like strangers who happened to share a roof. However, when I was diagnosed with ALS and the whole city urged her to divorce me, Anastasia carried me on her back and climbed 3,000 steps to reach a cathedral, praying day and night just for me to live a little longer. When the end finally came, she stayed beside my hospital bed all night, her forehead pressed gently against my cheek. In a trembling whisper, she said, "Mason, I've done everything I could for you in this life. If there's a next one, please don't make me remember again. Let me be with him." Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. Only then did I realize I should never have chained her to me with the love we shared in our youth. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first found Anastasia. This time, I chose to let her memories stay buried so that the girl I loved could run freely toward the man she had always wanted.

My body matured faster than most girls my age. When I turned 18, my overprotective brother worried I’d be taken advantage of, so he asked his best friend to look after me. But the first time we met, that man's eyes never left my body. After I graduated from college, he kept crossing the line, again and again. By day, he was my boss, and by night, I was his "personal assistant." For four years, we kept our affair a secret. He molded me into exactly what he liked, and the worst part? I let him. One day, his ex-fiancée came back from overseas. He slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night and rushed to the airport to pick her up. Humiliated but unwilling to let go, I followed him there, only to watch him gently stroke another woman’s hair right in front of me. He turned to me and said, "Jennifer Huckabee, four years ago, you were the one who crawled into my bed while I was drunk. The way you're behaving now… it’s really pathetic." The way he looked at her was soft, and the way he mocked me was sharp and deliberate. I suddenly realized he was right. This was meaningless. So I lowered my head, texted my brother to tell him I’d accept the Sinclair family marriage proposal, then looked up at that man and smiled. "Alright then. Goodbye."

When war broke out in Irestan, my fiancé, Everett Jones, caused a scene at the airport and refused to let the evacuation flight take off. He was determined to wait for his precious first love, Annie Scott, who had taken advantage of the chaos to loot a cosmetics counter for luxury goods. By then, the insurgent forces were already closing in. The shriek of explosions grew louder, drawing nearer by the second. With an entire plane full of people in mortal danger, I had no choice. I knocked Everett unconscious and dragged him aboard. After we returned home, far from the battlefield, we lived a period of quiet, comfortable happiness. I truly believed he had finally put that woman behind him. I was wrong. On our wedding day, he tied me up, drove me away, and deliberately crashed the car, killing me. As my life slipped away, I heard his twisted laughter. "Daniela, you're the one who killed my Annie. Because of you, she was killed by an insurgent missile. "She was just a young girl who liked to look pretty. What was so wrong with that? "This is what you owe her. I'm going to make you suffer far more than she ever did." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the boarding gate, at the exact moment he blocked the plane. This time, I chose to grant his wish and let him stay behind with his beloved first love, together, forever.

On the day the Cole family went bankrupt, Adrian Cole left behind a suicide note and went alone to the snow mountains to end his life. I chased after him without hesitation, searching for him in the snow for a full ten hours. Just as despair hollowed me out completely, I saw his secretary, Zoe Bennett, livestreaming Adrian's proposal on social media. One of his friends joked in the comments, "You're about to be a groom. Aren't you afraid your woman will get mad?" His reply was icy cold. "I only promised her the title of Mrs. Cole. She shouldn't even think about anything else." Another comment followed. "She's marrying in with ten billion in investment. Is she really willing to swallow that kind of grievance?" I could almost see Adrian sneering as he typed, "She got ten billion for the position of Mrs. Cole. She's not losing out. If it weren't for her, Zoe wouldn't have been forced to go abroad. These last few days are my compensation to Zoe." My fingernails dug deep into my flesh. Calmly, I burned everything that had anything to do with him. On the day of the wedding, he went mad searching for me everywhere. In the upscale venue across the street, I had just slipped on a diamond ring given to me by another man, Julian Cross. Unbeknownst to him, while he was calculating the countdown to our breakup, I was also preparing to marry someone else.

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring. Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding. That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride. "Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips. But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you." He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years. I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside. Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers. Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.