Spring Trap Gif Novels & Stories

I've invested in my cousin, Jack Glenwood's farm. His net profit is more than four million dollars per year. On the day I'm supposed to receive my bonus, Jack tears the contract stating that I get a 55% profit share right in front of my family. After that, he transfers 40 thousand dollars to me. He even has the audacity to pat me on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "Noah, you never did anything throughout the year. Since I'm giving you 40 thousand dollars, that means I'm treating you well, right?" I just smile as I look at Jack's greedy and despicable expression. Then, I accept the 40 thousand dollars without saying anything. The next day, I cut off the secret formula to the farm's feed and travel overseas to carry out a new round of investments. This time, I want to see how Jack will fare without my secret formula.

Five years ago, Esther Quill, who was six months pregnant, was sent to prison by her husband, Bradley Warner, himself.Five years later, Esther went to Bradley with a DNA paternity test paper in her hand and tearfully questioned, "Bradley Warner, how does it feel to kill your flesh and blood with your own hands!?"Ten years of secret love in exchange for five years of imprisonment; ten months of pregnancy in exchange for five years of separation from her flesh and blood.After Esther redeemed her sin with her life, Bradley turned white overnight and offered a sky-high reward, desperately searching for his wife and vowing to find her even if he had to overturn the world.The world thought that Bradley loved Esther to death... Only Esther knew that the man had no heart.It was until Esther appeared on the news with her two daughters and son one day.Bradley looked at the woman he had been yearning for and apologized, "Sweetheart, I was wrong!"The three little ones put themselves in front of Esther."Mr. Warner, our mommy is single, and there are too many people who want to be our daddy. Please go to the end of the line!”

In the seventh year of my marriage to Adrian Sandford, his ex, Celine Wheeler, came back. She posted: [We were young, reckless. We missed our shot. This time, I'm fighting for love.] That night, Adrian sat on the balcony, cigarette burning between his fingers, staring out till sunrise. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing either. Their friend group—everyone who saw them grow up—flooded the chat. Regret for them. Relief, too. They forgot I was still in there. Adrian had no clue how many times I replayed the years I chased him. Seven years. I'm tired.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

There was a time when Nyla believed that walking down the aisle with Clark, after being together since their university years, would be the happiest moment of her life. It was only when Clark cheated on her that she realized true love and growing old together were rare. More often than not, relationships ended in separation and loss. After their divorce, she swore she would never give her heart away again. But, Damon—Clark’s youngest uncle—barged into Nyla’s life and gave her no chance to escape. She kept trying to distance herself, not wanting any more ties with her ex’s family. Damon, however, pursued her relentlessly, determined to have her in his arms. "Uncle Damon, we're not right for each other." Damon gently pinched Nyla’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You and Clark are divorced. How am I still your uncle? "Besides, how do you know we’re not right for each other when you haven't tried?" "I’ve tried," Nyla replied. "Then try again," Damon said. "Keep trying until it feels right." Nyla was at a loss for words.

After eight years of love, Liz Smith went from being the woman Zac Lincoln once saw as the love he could never forget, to someone he couldn’t wait to get rid of. She had spent three years trying to hold on, giving everything she had. But once her last bit of affection ran dry, she finally gave up and walked away. On the day they broke up, Zac sneered coldly and said, “Liz, I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back, begging me to take you back.” But what came instead wasn’t a plea—it was news that she was getting married. Furious, he called her. “Are you done with your little game?” A deep male voice answered from the other end. “Mr. Lincoln, my fiancée is in the shower. She can’t come to the phone right now.” Zac let out a bitter laugh and hung up. He convinced himself it was just another one of Liz’s tricks—playing hard to get. It wasn’t until her wedding day, when he saw her in a white gown, holding a bouquet, walking down the aisle toward another man, that reality finally hit him. Liz had truly let him go. Like a madman, he pushed through the crowd and rushed to her. “Liz, I know I was wrong. Please don’t marry someone else. Please.” Liz lifted her dress and walked right past him. “Didn’t you say you and Xena were perfect for each other? Why are you kneeling at my wedding now, Mr. Lincoln?”

The entire Nightfall pack knows that Alpha Jack Thorne is famous for his devotion toward me, his mate. Not only does he personally take care of me, but he also drills a hot spring for me, knowing how much I'm afraid of the cold. He even rests in his wolf form at my feet in front of the Elder Council. "All the decisions that I made will place my mate, Ivy Blackwood's wishes as top priority." His gentle and serious vows fill the next three years of me being Jack's mate. I'm very sure that he loves me with all his heart. That is, until I come across a social media post, where my private hot spring serves as the background. Jack, who claims that he's off to mark his territory, can be seen kissing the she-wolf in the hot spring while the upper half of his body is naked.

My father was hit by a car. When I found the perpetrator, my wife, Jessie Ford, stepped out of the passenger seat with her clothes in disarray. I stayed at the hospital to care for my father, yet Jessie stayed with the perpetrator at the police station while he was being questioned. I refused to settle the case, and she picked up a thermos and struck my head. “He’s a lawyer. Do you want to ruin his career? What are you trying to do?” I calmly wiped the blood from my forehead and looked at Jessie, who stood there flustered and slow to understand the situation. This was not Jessie’s first affair, but it was the most serious one. I suddenly remembered the fifth year of our marriage when she grinned at me and said, “Don’t you get tired of sleeping with only one person for the rest of your life? To be fair, I won’t interfere with how you fool around. What I give them is sex; what I give you is love.” Later, I did exactly what she suggested and got involved with the girl she sent to me, yet she begged me to come back.

My husband's childhood sweetheart kills my parents in an accident due to drunk driving. I want to call the police, but my husband blindfolds me and takes me to the cellar. I'm tormented and subjected to inhumane treatment for the next three years. After each torture session, an icy male voice will ring out in my ear. "Do you still hate her, Sabrina?" One day, I finally cave and submit to the icy voice. "No, I don't. I don't hate her anymore!" I hear my husband's joyous laughter on the other end of the line. On the day he welcomes me out of the cellar, I avoid his embrace. Yet he loses his mind when I ask him for a divorce.

I was three months pregnant when my fiancé left me to marry his first love, Isabella Thompson. Soon after, I was in a car accident. I survived, but our baby didn't. My childhood friend, Daniel Smith, found out and insisted on marrying me despite his family's objections. He spent a fortune on the best doctors to ensure I recovered fully. Later, he arranged a grand proposal, confessing he had loved me for years. I was touched and agreed to marry him. But three years later, I overheard his conversation with his friend, Mike Perez. "Remember years ago when Isabella stole Jessica's fiancé? To avoid any future trouble for Isabella, you married Jessica and even caused that car accident, which killed the baby she was carrying. Now, can she even get pregnant anymore?" Mike asked. "No, I love Isabella," Daniel replied. "I just didn't want to have any babies with Jessica, so I put birth control in her water." I trembled, unable to believe what I had heard. It turned out Isabella was also Daniel's first love. I figured it was time for me to leave.