Smug Expression

Valentine's Day. I was stuck on ER duty at Brighton City Hospital. Theodore Madoff, who was supposed to be working late, strolled in carrying his student—Cecilia Kuntzer. She had red marks everywhere and that smug little smirk. "Relax, Mrs. Madoff. Just stomach pain. Lucky me, Prof. Madoff rushed me here." Theo pushed me to treat her. Turns out? She was pregnant. From rough intercourse. And the dad? Theo. My husband. The same guy who'd sworn off kids with me for ten years. Felt like a punch to the gut. But I still saved her baby. Next day, she uploaded a video—ID in hand, cheesy PowerPoint, accusing me of malpractice. Claimed I killed her kid. Then Theo asked for a divorce. Priscilla—his mom—stormed the hospital, shrieking about her dead grandbaby. She brought a mob. All these "righteous" strangers who stabbed me to death. Right there in the ER. I died with my eyes wide open. Then—bam—I woke up. Valentine's Day. Again.

It's supposed to be a punishment, but it ends with me freezing to death in the freezer. My fiance, Carlo Vesta, also known as the heir of the Vesta family, only remembers that I exist three days later. Now, I'm just floating around while watching him hug my frozen corpse, his body trembling violently. I notice how broken his expression is, and soon, I witness him piecing together the truth that I've brought into my grave with me. It's too late, Carlo. But it's fine. I'm right here, watching you. I want to see how you're going to face the truth of you personally locking up the woman you love in her own grave.

“Sign it.” Axton’s calm voice echoed in the room. The kind of calm that made silence deafening. He pushed the divorce papers across the polished desk, his expression cold and composed. The pen rolled until it stopped in front of her hand. Isla’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The golden ring on her finger glinted under the office light, a cruel reminder of everything that was about to end. Three years of marriage, three years of smiles and unspoken tenderness, now reduced to a signature line. They had never married for love, binded by a contract signed for convenience, destined to expire the moment it no longer served its purpose. And yet somewhere along the way, Isla had forgotten it was only temporary.

"I need 100 million in cash," Hera Rinne said. "Alright, I can help you with that," Sean Villegas replied. Hera looked at Sean with a confused expression, "Are you sure? But, I'm not sure I can pay back the money you'll lend me." "You don't need to pay back all the money. I only need your body to satisfy me. Besides that, you're free to do whatever you want," Sean said with a meaningful look. Hera widened her eyes upon hearing that. She certainly couldn't do that. But, on the other hand, Hera really needed that 100 million. As soon as possible.

In my seventh year of trying to win the favor of mafia Don Ethan Larsen, the system declared my mission a failure. I was set to be erased in one month. I did not cry or make a scene. I accepted the death countdown with calm detachment and started a livestream called "My Last Wishes Before I Die." The first thing I did was throw the multimillion-dollar wedding ring into the drain, right in front of Ethan and his first love, just to hear it clatter out of sight. Ethan's expression hardened. "Nina, what kind of trick are you trying to pull this time? You begged me in order to wear that ring and stood there for three days." I smiled, lifted my middle finger, and replied, "Pfft… As if you deserve it."

On my wedding day, my fiance's first love appeared at the wedding ceremony wearing the exact same haute couture gown as mine. I watched them stand together at the entrance, greeting the guests as if they were the bride and groom. Maintaining a calm expression, I complimented them, saying they looked like the perfect couple—beauty and brains, a match made in heaven. She burst into tears and fled the scene. He, however, didn't hesitate to humiliate me in front of everyone, accusing me of being petty and narrow-minded. When the wedding banquet was over, he left for what was supposed to be our honeymoon—with her by his side. I didn't argue or cause a scene. Instead, I quietly booked an appointment for an abortion.

My husband was a senior military officer and a hardcore military fanatic. When I went into labor and my life was at risk, I begged him to sign the consent form for an emergency C-section. Instead, he looked at me coldly and asked, “What’s the maximum cruising speed of a Boeing 747? Answer correctly, and I’ll sign.” Later, my body tore from the prolonged labor, and our son suffocated to death. He said calmly, as if reciting a fact, “One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. Remember that?” At that moment, I looked at his indifferent expression and realized that I no longer loved him. With that, I left behind the divorce papers and disappeared from his life. “Felix, the military-illiterate wife you were ashamed of will never come back.”

“MATE!” “NO!” “I didn’t ask!” “Still No, my mate killed me long ago.” Silence… “You killed your mate?” “No!” “Aw! I got a broken doll! “ The smug bastard grinned. -- Mallory´s life didn’t go as planned, even after she believed her true fairytale had started. Betrayed, beaten, and broken beyond repair, she welcomed death when it finally came. The moon goddess granted her a new life, a choice. She chose to remember. Haunted by her past and trauma, she devoted her life to *unalive* the worse criminals, humans, and shifters. Working for the council, she managed to keep running from her nightmares. Suffocating the pain and panic attacks by escaping into subspace, guided by Mr. Bear’s firm hand. Love is not in Mallory´s world; she doesn’t want it. Don’t deserve it, and the mere thought scare her to the core. Why would two mated males have such care for her? Why would another claim her as his? She doesn’t recognize them as mates—any of them. But that doesn’t seem to scare them away. Reverse harem, BDSM, revenge, trauma, triggers! Torture, human trafficking +++ Not a beautiful romance but a dark romance with lingering trauma.

The Ship engaged in the Subsea Cable Laying, and Pipeline installation in the Arabian Sea found four big boxes during a pre-lay survey before a sub-sea pipeline installation. That was a diving ship. The divers inspected the box on the sea bottom and did not know what was inside. So the ship crews lifted boxes. They opened it and were shocked. Full of gold.Tons of gold. The top officials onboard that ship hid this information from their management, and they decided to transport that gold to Europe. The actual owner of this box containing gold is a terror group in Asia. They started a secret war from all sides to get back the gold without being noticed by the government agencies. Indian Military Intelligence, monitoring this terror group, got information about this gold. A true expression of a pirate story. This you love to read with breath held.

My mom was a brilliant programmer. She created an app called "Shake for Allowance." After my brother and I downloaded it, she told us, "From now on, this is how you'll get your living expenses. On the first of every month, just shake your phone. Whatever number you get is the amount you'll receive. "The range is from zero to ten thousand dollars." At first, I was excited. Every month, I shook my phone with anticipation. However, every time, the result was the same: 0 dollars. My brother, meanwhile, always landed the highest amount. "Wow, sis, your luck really sucks," he said. Even when he showed me the transfer record for ten thousand dollars, there was a smug smile on his face. When I confronted Mom, she brushed it off, saying my luck was bad and that no one else was to blame. With no other choice, I worked three part-time jobs just to support myself while studying. On the night before my final exams, I collapsed from exhaustion and died. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day my mom created the "Shake for Allowance" app.