Soap Bible Study Method Example Novels & Stories

Introduction At my mating ceremony with Blake Morrison, the Alpha heir I'd loved for eight years, his childhood sweetheart texted him a pregnancy test photo. He didn't hesitate for a second. He canceled our mating ceremony and rushed off to take care of his childhood sweetheart. After he left the ceremony hall, his childhood sweetheart posted photos on the big screen behind me. Photos of the two of them tangled together in my bedroom. Then Blake sent me a message: "I was drunk that night. Ivy is carrying my child, and I need to be there for her." "She wanted to hide the pregnancy and raise the pup alone, but she's an Omega. It's too hard for an Omega to raise a child by herself, especially when she's competing to be the Pack's Head Healer... I can't ruin her future, and I can't abandon an innocent life." "You're an Alpha wolf. High-ranking wolves don't get pregnant easily, and you've always wanted children quickly, right? After she gives birth, I'll arrange for her to study advanced healing at the Alliance. You can raise the child, and they'll only know you as their mother." When I didn't reply, he added another message: "The official marking and re-scheduling our mating ceremony will have to wait until after Ivy gives birth." I stared at my phone screen, laughing until my eyes burned with tears. I was the only Alpha heiress of the Stormfang Pack, the strongest pack in Southern territories. Did he really think that I had no choice but to pick him as my mate? I dialed the Alpha King Kane Blackwood's number directly: "Are you still willing to be my mate?"

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

I cleared my throat and picked up the menu, pretending to study it. “So,” I said after a moment, “before we start pretending this is something serious, you should know… I’m not exactly the settling-down type.” He arched his brow but said nothing. “I do hookups,” I continued, keeping my tone casual. “That night at the hotel? I was supposed to meet someone else. I went into the wrong room. You were literally a mistake.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just smirked faintly and reached for his glass of whisky, taking a slow sip. My fake confidence wavered. “Did you hear what I said?” “Every word,” he said quietly. “And?” “And I’m still here.” I stared at him with disbelief. “Wow. You’re not even mad? You’re supposed to call off the wedding and storm out or something.” He chuckled in a low tone, resting his elbow on the table. “You’re really trying hard to get rid of me, aren’t you?” ******* I caught my fiancé cheating with the woman he called his “sister.” Broken, drunk, and reckless, I stumbled into the wrong hotel room, and into the arms of a stranger. By morning, he was gone, leaving only a note: Wrong room, but you taste good. I wanted to forget him. Weeks later, my best friend begged me to meet the man her father had arranged for her to marry and make him call off the wedding. I went there in her place, only to discover he was the same man from that night. He called off the wedding with her. Then he asked me to marry him, but I refused. But refusing a billionaire with an obsession is never that simple… especially when he shows up as my new boss.

Every Christmas Eve, the heir of the Marco mafia family—Adrian Marco, must follow the family tradition: Draw a name to decide whether he’s allowed to marry me. Because I, Irene Cast, am not mafia-born. Unless he draws the slip with my name on it, he can’t take me as his wife. For four years, Adrian has drawn four times. And not once did he draw my name. I always thought he fought with his family because of me— that he was willing to risk losing his position as the Don, just to choose me. Every time he failed, he held me so tightly and whispered, “It’s okay. There’s always next year.” And I loved him so much it hurt. Hurt enough that I was willing to wait, year after year. This year, I told myself: If he still doesn’t draw my name… I’ll secretly switch the result. I sneaked to the door of Adrian’s study, and heard his younger brother ask: “Don… every year you do draw Irene's name. Why do you pretend you didn’t? Is it because you still can’t let Sera go?” But he simply said, in a flat voice, “Sera needs me for something urgent. Do what you always do: swap Irene’s name for a blank one.” He walked out without looking back. Instead of swapping, he tossed the blank slip into the trash, left the one with my name on the table, and hurried after Adrian. I went inside, picked up the blank slip from the trash, and replaced the one with my name. Watching my own name fall into the garbage. Adrian…I don’t want to wait and marry you anymore. I’ll grant you your choice.

When I caught Christian Helmley cheating on me for the tenth time, he dragged his lover over without any hesitation and let me decide her fate. When I caught him cheating for the 28th time, he cried and groveled and begged for my forgiveness. The man went so far as to curse his bloodline for that. By the ninety-eighth time, nothing he did could touch me anymore. I was numb. All I did was crouch beyond the door of his study while he and his lover were going at it like animals. Then it was the last time I caught him cheating. He came back and kissed me right after sleeping with another woman. One day before I left, he barged in with a crying girl in his arms. Christian berated me, accusing me of killing his son. "I can't believe you! You're not the woman I know!" He pressed the tip of a fountain pen against my belly, and I forced my tears back. "I don't want any other woman carrying my children. I only want Jasmine! God, can you stop being possessive for one second? You're practically a hag now, Natasha. Pull this again, and I'll send you to an asylum!" All that elicited from me was a bitter smile. I had no strength left to argue. "Yes, yes, I envy her. She took my husband from me, but I guess I should say goodbye and bless your relationship on the way out now." Then I jumped into the rolling sea right before his eyes. Only one thought remained in my mind. 'That's the last of the love I had for you, Christian.'

I hid behind the study curtains, heart racing with a fragile, trembling joy. In my hands: an ultrasound photo—two heartbeats—and a no-limit black card. Alessandro had given it to me last night, his lips on my neck, calling me his Donna, his queen. Tonight, I was going to tell him about the twins. "The Petrov family needs to see my good faith," his voice drifted in, smooth as velvet. "Vittoria arrives Thursday. I’ll announce the engagement then." My blood froze. "What about Elena?" someone asked. "She’s been with you three years. She manages the books, dug that slug out of your side herself. Is this fair to her?" "Elena?" He leaned back in the leather chair, cigar smoke curling around his jaw. "She’s like a trained hound, Salvatore. After the Rossi family got wiped out, I pulled her from the gutter, gave her a gun and a bed. Have you ever seen a hound leave its master? I could kick her, and she would lick my boot and ask for another." My nails sank into my palms, crumpling the ultrasound. "Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave?" Marco, his Capo, asked. Alessandro paused. Then he said: "She would die for me without question. How could she ever leave?" Those words struck my chest like two 9mm rounds. I didn't wait. I ran through the cemetery, past the tombs of dead Dons, and hurled that card into the Hudson. I vanished into the night with his heirs in my womb and three years of lies in my throat. "I'm sorry, my babies," I whispered to my belly. "Mommy was a fool." But I wouldn't be a fool anymore.

The SAT results have been released, and my younger brother, Alvin Bellamy, got a score of 1400. To celebrate his achievement, I set aside my usual frugal habits and throw him a party. Amid the lively cheer, he suddenly says, "Sandy, I'm legally an adult now. It's time for you to give me Mom's life insurance payout, yeah?" I shake my head in response, but just as I'm about to explain why, he flies off the handle. "I've had enough of the pressure of studying in this country! I didn't even bother applying to any colleges, and the application deadlines have closed, so I'll be stuck attending a community college. If you don't want to ruin my future, you have to give me the money so I can study abroad instead!" Feeling disappointed and disheartened, I transfer Alvin 5,000 dollars on the spot. However, he assumes I'm keeping the lion's share of the money to myself. Not only does he threaten me in front of everyone, but he even teams up with our biological father, who cheated on our mother many years ago, to spread lies about me. "You've been hoarding all of our dead mom's life insurance payout, living it up this whole time while refusing to give any of the money to me, your own brother! What did I do to deserve a sister as vicious as you?" Looking right into the eyes of the nasty ingrate I've doted on for over a decade now, I scoff and throw out a pile of invoices. "Where do you think the money that's been spent on you all these years came from? In fact, if we're going to settle the score properly, you owe me 580 grand."

Some wounds don't bleed where anyone can see them. Sera Voss walked into her mate's study one night carrying the most important secret of her life. She walked out carrying it still. Because before she could open her mouth — before she could find the words for the two pink lines sitting on her bathroom sink, for the tiny heartbeat growing quietly beneath her ribs — Kael Drayden, Alpha of the Ashveil Pack, looked at her across his desk with decided eyes and spoke the words that unmade everything. *I reject you, Sera Voss, as my destined mate.* She felt the bond snap like a spine breaking. She felt the hollow it left — cold and sudden and enormous — open up beneath her ribs where warmth used to live. And she pressed her hand flat against her stomach, and she said nothing. Because he didn't deserve to know. Because her daughter deserved better than growing up in the shadow of a man who chose someone else before she had even drawn her first breath. Because some decisions, once made, cannot be unmade — and Sera Voss was done waiting for people to choose her. She left that night with one bag, one secret, and nothing else. --- She built a life from scratch in a town where nobody knew her name. A diner. A small warm room above a bakery. A landlady named Donna who never asked questions and always made extra food. A routine that kept the grief from swallowing her whole in the quiet hours after midnight when the bond's absence felt loudest and the room felt smallest and she pressed both hands against her growing stomach and talked to her daughter like she was the only person left in the world. Because right then, she was.

Do you know I could sue you for assault, Miss Athena? I have lots of witnesses who could testify about it." "You, just because you are a billionaire, you think you can command me. Then you are wrong." "Of course, I could, and I would right now. Picked up all the papers on the floor and resumed reading the files." He commanded and settled back on his seat. "You cannot order me because I'm not your employee anymore." I resumed walking to the door, but the two bodyguards brought me back in front of him despite my screaming in protest. "Alex!!. "File the case against Miss Athena for assault." "Yes, Sir.". "You can't do that," "Of course, I could." Go, send me to prison. You asshole, bastard, animal, coldhearted, devil!!! Fuck you!!! "Do you have any family, Miss Athena?" Alex finds her family and makes sure... "I'll do it!!! I screamed in frustration. I crawled onto the floor and picked up all the folders and papers on the floor. "Now, resume where we stop." I hate him so much. *** Zachary Anderson, 23 years old. His father is the number one businessman in the country and his mother is the most sought actress of all time. He always gets what he wants until he meets her. Athena Park, 20 years old an orphan living with her fifteen years old brother. Athena has no other choice but to stop her study to find a job for their living because the money that their parents left is getting less every day. She got a different job within two years until she was hired at one of the Anderson buildings as a receptionist. She was only working for three months at the Anderson building when she meet him and her not-so-comfortable life turned into hell.

I was born in the slums with nothing to my name, yet somehow, I once saved the most dangerous man in all of Sicile. In a crumbling shack, I treated his wounds while he patched the leaks in my roof whenever it rained. Later, he pulled me out of that miserable life and brought me into the heavily guarded estate of a mafia family. Together, we even had a son. However, seven years had passed, and he still had never publicly acknowledged either our child or me, all because my background was too lowly. Gabriele Carlos once told me that as long as our son proved himself exceptional enough, the family would eventually accept him. So even at only seven years old, my son pushed himself desperately hard to study languages, etiquette, and even firearms training. On his birthday, he was burning with fever, his little face pale, yet he still came out as the top student in his grade. Holding his award certificate tightly in his hands, his eyes shone brighter than I had ever seen. “Ma, Papa’s finally going to acknowledge me this time, isn’t he?” So, I took the certificate and went to look for Gabriele at his residence. However, through the heavy doors, I overheard him discussing a wedding with the daughter of another mafia family. They talked about the wedding date, the alliance between their families, and how the territories and profits would be divided afterward. Then, someone suddenly asked, “What about her and the child?” After a brief silence, Gabriele answered calmly, “Just keep them hidden.” Those words struck me hard. So the seven years my son and I had spent waiting meant nothing at all. We had only been fooling ourselves, believing things would change. Well, Gabriele might want us hidden, but unfortunately for him, I was done hiding.