Novel & Cerita Son Fuck Drunk Mom

After three years of marriage, we became the couple everyone in the city envied. I truly believed Edmund and I would be happy forever—until my sister, Avery, returned. Everything changed. My husband’s constant favoritism toward her and my son’s growing coldness left me unable to carry on. On Christmas Day, I walked into the courthouse. When the judge asked me one last time if I wanted to fight for my son’s custody, I simply shook my head. “Your Honor, I waive my right to custody, and I agree to the divorce.” Out of our seven years of marriage, two had been spent trapped in endless legal battles. I was utterly exhausted. This time, I chose to let go. I dialed a number and called my old

Adia Mbeki is running on no sleep, no money, and no backup. Single mom. Coffee shop night shifts. A baby who cries more than she sleeps. She can’t afford to be late on rent. Not again. Enter Kael Sterling: cold, brooding billionaire CEO. Her landlord. The man who signs eviction notices before breakfast. But when he finds her asleep behind the counter at 3AM with her baby, something shifts. His deal is simple: Move into his penthouse. Be his “fake” live-in nanny. Let him pay the bills. No touching. No feelings. Just 90 days. The problem? He’s too quiet. Too careful with her daughter. Too good at showing up when she’s breaking. And Adia’s rule is clear: Billionaires break h

Mom was a top student at a prestigious school and had always been determined to be the best at everything. She demanded that I learn to walk by seven months, speak fluently by eighteen months, and master all addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division by the age of three. I did all of it. Yet Mom still felt it wasn’t enough. However, when my younger brother, Liam, didn’t speak until he was five, Mom clapped and cheered when he finally did, celebrating his “late-blooming brilliance”. I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day, I was wearing headphones, memorizing Spanish words, and accidentally let the sound leak out, scaring Liam. He clutched his chest and cried, saying his he

This story is in two captivating parts under one unforgettable title. Book One spans 60 gripping chapters, while Book Two continues the legacy... telling the love story of the next generation. ******* One reckless night. One devastating mistake. And a secret that changes everything. On her birthday, Ashley’s world shatters. Betrayed by the two people she trusted most, her step-sister and the man she loved for five years—she makes a desperate, impulsive choice… and spends the night with a stranger. She never expected to see him again. She never expected to carry his children. Pregnant, abandoned, and cast out by her own family, Ashley is left to face a cruel world alone. With no home, no

Nova Ellis has three problems. The first is Drey — her best friend, the boy who held her together when her dad died. She doesn't love him that way. She doesn't. But somehow they ended up in a school restroom doing things best friends should never do, promised each other never again, and have broken that promise five times. Five. They keep saying last time like either of them actually means it. The second is the letter. Three pages of everything she has ever felt for Leo Carter — the sweet parts, the embarrassing parts, the midnight fantasy parts that should never have left her diary. Handed to the wrong person by accident. Read out loud. Every word. The third is Rhys Caldwell. The boy who

When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them. Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi. Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina. Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery. Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly." Meanwhile,

Just because I ate one chicken leg more than my brother, my father kicked me out of the house in the middle of a snowstorm. Later on, my father of an archeologist dug up my body. Due to my missing head, he did not recognize me. Even when he saw that the body had the same scars as I did, he did not care. Later on, my mother dug out my heart and showed it to her students. "Today, we will study the heart of someone with congenital heart disease." She once said she would recognize me no matter what I looked like. Mom, now that the only thing left of me is my heart, do you still recognize me?

My father is one of the wealthiest men in the country, a name everyone knows but almost never sees. My mother is the devoted wife standing behind him, the one who actually raises me. She always tells me my father looks down on us for being country people, that he calls us ungrateful dogs who can never be won over no matter how well they're fed. He sends me only 200 dollars a month for me to live on. I hate him for it. Then one day he shows up at my university without warning. He points at the tray in front of me and frowns. "I send you 50,000 dollars a month, and this is what you eat?"

"You need to stop looking at me when we are in public, Connor." "I cannot do that, Megan, because my job is to make everyone in this room believe I am obsessed with you." "You are touching me too much." "I am barely touching you, but if you want me to pull you closer and show them what we do behind closed doors, you only have to ask." I spent my college career hiding behind oversized clothing while keeping a pathetic crush on Caleb Mercer. I thought he cared about me, but I was entirely wrong. I overheard him bragging to his friends about how he planned to secretly record us in his bedroom and use the video to blackmail me. I refused to be a victim anymore. I bought a complet

I was prepping the ceremonial cloak for our seventh mating anniversary. The front door suddenly banged open. My son rushed inside, tears streaming down his face. "The teacher yelled at me," he sobbed. He shoved the wrinkled drawing into my hands before burying his face in my shirt. I smoothed out the paper to see what the drama was about. It was a sketch of a faceless woman titled: The Substitute Mom. My heart stopped as I read the scribbles underneath. "Daddy said she is the backup." "She does the chores but gets no wages." "The Real Mom is responsible for being beautiful and guarding the treasury." My fingertips turned ice-cold against the paper. My mate, Ethan, had just returned from a pa