South Lomei Prophecy Novels & Stories

That night, while scrolling through a secondhand marketplace, I came across a bizarre listing. [Virtual Girlfriend Companion Service — 99.9 dollars/month, premium relationship experience. [Emotionally stable, available on demand, online 24/7, satisfaction guaranteed. [Rave reviews, three customers have already renewed. DM for details.] More than a dozen user reviews were stacked below. [The experience is incredible—more attentive than my ex. Totally worth the money!] [OP, where did you find such a gem? Share the source, please.] [Is this girlfriend AI? She's way too obedient.] [How much to buy her out?] The seller replied: [Real-person service, exclusive source. Tenfold compensation if proven fake. Buyout inquiries via DM.] I frowned, a mix of disbelief and disgust tightening my chest, and was just about to scroll past. Then, by chance, I caught a glimpse of a partially blurred chat background image in the details section. It was something I had drawn myself—the matching profile pictures my long-distance boyfriend and I used.

Yvette Skye has been diagnosed with depression. She thinks her parents will understand her situation, but all she gets is boundless mockery and doubt. After her affair with her sister’s boyfriend is found out, she dies in an accident. After her death, her biased parents suddenly start to regret their actions.

With only an hour left until the concert began, every trending topic across the internet was dominated by a single headline. [Breaking: Rising Star Tiffany Burgess to Propose to Her Manager After Ten Years of Romance, Leaving Fans in Awe.] This proposal was not just a personal milestone; it was the centerpiece of our company's most ambitious PR campaign of the year and the culmination of a love story between Tiffany and me. Then, in the fire escape, I bumped into Tiffany, dressed in her wedding gown, locked in a passionate kiss with a young man. "Wayne, let me explain," she pleaded. "Explain what?" I snorted. "That just before our proposal, you're sneaking around with another man? The proposal is live-streamed to millions, with thousands of media outlets eagerly awaiting the announcement." I slammed the engagement ring down onto the table in front of her. "After the encore tonight, you'll either propose to me on that stage, or you'll be ruined, both in reputation and career!" Her fists clenched, but in the end, she gritted her teeth and grabbed the box. "Fine." Under the spotlight, she stood before me in her wedding dress, pulling out the ring. But instead of turning to me, she held the ring up toward the guest seating area, where her true love sat. "Wayne, thank you for helping me reach the stars," she declared. "But tonight, I'm going to chase my moon." The crowd erupted in shock and confusion. In a single instant, I became the laughingstock—the unwitting prop in her grand romantic gesture. My heart shattered the moment she reached him.

I'm the best plastic surgeon in the industry. Hendrick Twain is a regular customer of mine who has gotten his manhood enlarged nine times via surgery. But after I performed the latest surgery on him, he decides to linger around in my clinic instead of leaving. He keeps showing off his brand-new luxury watch while gloating to me, "Isn't this watch pretty, Dr. Yard? Winona was the one who gifted it to me." Upon noticing my lack of reaction, Hendrick approaches with a smile on his face. Then, he lowers his voice. "What's the use of preserving your chastity, anyway? Winona prefers to be with a plastic hunk like me, who's gone through nine manhood enlargement procedures, than be with you, Mr. Au Naturale." As I stare at Hendrick's face, which has gone under the knife countless times for minor adjustments, I remember the excuses Winona Grahm made to my face every night to avoid going home. Just the memory makes my gut churn in disgust. All of my grievances and disgust turn into ice at that moment. Finally, I take the wedding ring off my ring finger and place it on the desk gently. Then, I grab my phone and dial the number, which I haven't called in the past three years. "Dad." I sound eerily calm on the phone. "Since Winona thinks marriage is nothing but a joke to her, then there's no need for the Grahm family to continue existing in this world."

Someone had sprinkled some corrosive acid powder all over my wedding dress, the one worth over a hundred million. The moment I put it on, my flesh began to burn and dissolve. Blood and yellowish fluid pooled around me as a result. When I tried to call for an ambulance, someone’s mother held me down. She smiled cruelly and said, “You dare steal my daughter’s wedding dress? Go to hell!” However, my husband had ordered the dress from a top designer. It was one of a kind! I struggled with all my strength and shouted at her, “Do you know who I am? How dare you touch me?!” Her daughter, Yelena Stone, then grabbed a knife and stabbed me hard in my pregnant belly. She sneered and said, “You stole my man, but you have the audacity to yell at me? Fine. I’ll just spend a little more to end your worthless life.” My worthless life? I laughed. My hands were stained with blood as I called my brother, Hunter Sinclair, an elite in Jinvell’s social circles. “Hunter! Someone’s trying to kill me! And tell Jacob to get here now!”

"Sean, I've made up my mind, I'm going to marry you!" Janice Douglas played with her left hand's fingertips absentmindedly, her eyes locked on the swinging door of the nearby private room. On the other end of the call, the man let out a low chuckle, warm yet laced with a cool, worldly detachment. "Ms. Douglas, are you sure about this? Marrying into our families is a one-way street, no U-turns." "I'm sure!" Janice did not even pause before she shot back, her voice slicing through any second thoughts. "Fine, I'll be back in ten days. Pick me up at the airport, and we'll head straight to make it official."

My mother kept a red notebook recording all of my sister's favourite things. She had a blue notebook for me too. When my mother was hospitalized, I took leaves from work to take care of her. My sister had never shown up. However, my mother recorded in the blue notebook, '15th March, I am not well and am hospitalized. Celine owed me 450 dollars for food allowance. I knew that was not a notebook about my favourite things, but a notebook of all of my expenses. Behind the closed doors, Mother said to Father, "Celine is an evil person. She always likes to compete with her sister. We must take a chance to steal all her money and leave with Belle. Later when we are old, we will ask her to take care of us. I think we should just ask her to pay us back all the money we spent on her that I have recorded in this notebook. I was devastated at that moment.

In the final stages of a terminal illness, my family abandoned me and threw me into a horror game. [Another one here to die. I bet she won't last the first night.] [Just listen to that cough. I'm scared she'll die right inside my phone.] On the first night, the head nurse made her rounds, prepared to execute any player whose heartbeat was abnormal. My heartbeat remained steady only because my body was too weak to fluctuate—and I even helped her sew up the tear in her uniform. "Miss, your clothes are torn. You'll get cold. If I mend it for you, you won't be cold anymore." On the second night, the surgeon swung his scalpel, determined to cut away anything imperfect. I handed him a wrist guard I'd made myself, watching his trembling hands. "Doctor, your talent shouldn't be buried by pain." … On the final day, the ultimate Boss gave me a choice: leave with a healthy body, or stay and perish with these strange beings. Back in the real world, the parents who had abandoned me were suddenly in tears, begging me to come home and split the money. I smiled and said to the creatures inside the instance, "I choose to trade my life… for a home for all of you." The next second, a burst of golden light erupted from the system. [Congratulations, player. You have triggered the one and only hidden ending—Divine Redemption.]

On our wedding anniversary, my CEO husband, Michael Grant, invited me to watch the ocean with him. Tragically, a typhoon hit. I stood there in the raging wind and rain for over two hours, and he never showed up. In the end, all I got was a text that he was suddenly going on a business trip and couldn’t make it. Right after that, his intern, Nora Blake, posted a video on her social feed. It showed my usually pampered husband barefoot while helping fishermen haul crates of seafood. Her caption read: "Our hardworking CEO loves to get his hands dirty!" I laughed and commented: "Diligent and enduring—a true role model for us all." The company Slack channel instantly exploded. Everyone was betting on whether I’d finally blow up this time. Michael called me, his voice tight with fury, "Lauren West! What the heck did you mean by posting that comment? Are you trying to humiliate Nora in public? "It was a typhoon. I helped her family move some fish. What’s the big deal? You’re such a pampered little princess who has no idea how hard life really is. Delete that comment now. I’ll take you to the coast another day." Disgust churned in me. I replied, "Let a man who’s already rolled in the mud take me to the ocean? Forget it." Yes. Michael was now tainted, and I didn’t want him anymore.

With Valentine’s Day approaching, my husband, Edwin Welles, finally freed up his schedule and agreed to spend the holiday with me. I joked that he must be the busiest man in the world. After all, the acting chairman had no time for the actual chairman. However, as soon as we entered the cinema, his phone rang. With just a single glance at the screen, a trace of panic appeared on his normally composed face. “Honey, a serious problem has come up with the tech project. I have to go back and deal with it.” I watched him walk out through the ticket checkpoint. The surrounding noise of the crowd made my chest feel tight. All of the company’s tech projects utilized my father’s patents. He was the dean of the top research institute and the company’s chairman, yet he had not received any news of a problem. What could Edwin, a research novice, possibly need to go back to handle? I opened the phone tracker app and followed him. I would just have to see for myself what this “serious problem” really was!