Story About Lapu-lapu

Olivia was proposed to by her lover Jacob, but she couldn't agree. They could not make love or even kiss. Because this was a vampire-ruled country, werewolves were vampires' slaves. All werewolf women must remain chaste, because every young girl was a tribute waiting to be chosen by a vampire. Once a girl turned 15, she would enter the annual lottery. Only girls who were not chosen five times in a row were allowed to fall in love with their mate, and vampires considered five years of waiting a mercy. Olivia had not been selected for four consecutive years, and as long as she failed again this year, she could marry Jacob. This year's tribute lottery was special, and all tributes would be dedicated to the legendary Vampire Duke Damien. Olivia was lucky not to be chosen. Unfortunately, her sister became a tribute. To save her sister, Olivia volunteered to be a tribute. Unbeknownst to Olivia, her blood had aroused Damien's interest. When a vampire came looking for the blood pet chosen by Damien, an accident caused Olivia to swap identities with another tribute. Olivia planned to escape, but was found by vampires and became their appetizer. Just as Olivia was about to fall into nothingness, she heard an indifferent voice.“Who allowed you to hurt my pet?”

We got caught in a blizzard—me, my fiancé Melvin Dunn, a few of his colleagues, including Sally Blom. Middle of the night, I woke up shaking. My heavy-duty sleeping bag—the one built for minus forty—was gone. In its place? A flimsy summer quilt. Sally was curled up in my bag, fast asleep in Melvin's arms. I shoved him hard. "Why is she in my sleeping bag?" He pulled me aside, whispering, "Keep your voice down. Sally's kinda fragile—she's about to catch a cold. You're strong. You'll be fine." I pointed at my feet, already numb. "So I'm supposed to freeze to death for you two because she's 'fragile'?" He frowned. "God, Peyton, stop being so dramatic. It's just a sleeping bag. Think about the team for once." I laughed, tears slipping down my face. Didn't say another word. Just crawled back into the corner, grabbed the sat phone, and called my brother—Captain of Stormfang Rescue, an elite international search and rescue team. "Hugh, come get me. The coordinates are... Remember—I'm alone."

I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me. The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells." I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing. "Documents incomplete." "Receipts don't match." "No signature? Denied." "Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!" Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk. The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me. "Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims." I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her. But this time, I just smiled. "My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."

My fiancee gets drunk the day before our wedding. While I'm taking her home, she mistakes me for my best friend. "Jackson, don't bring our child to the wedding tomorrow. I don't want Samuel to know about us." I slam on the brakes, causing Madelyn Wilkinson to hit the seatback and come to her senses. When she realizes it's me, she freezes for a moment before slowly explaining, "Since you heard that, let's call off the wedding for now. You don't have to worry. Jackson doesn't plan on getting married again. But I'm still that child's mother no matter what, so I need to help out. "Jackson's your best friend. You feel sorry for him if he has to raise a child alone, don't you? I'll marry you after my son starts school." I can't help smiling bitterly. "Alright then… I don't have a problem with that." When we get home, she packs up a suitcase and leaves without another word. Feeling a sting in my eyes, I suppress my emotions as I sit on the couch, falling into a daze. That's when my phone rings at the worst possible moment. My childhood friend, Hazel Parsons, says in a hoarse voice, "Sam, don't marry her. Please." I fall silent for a beat. "Alright."

My live-in husband used my family’s influence to climb all the way to the position of Deputy Fire Chief. Throughout our five years of marriage, he has stood me up on every anniversary by using work as his excuse. This year, he finally agreed to celebrate our anniversary with me. But he only did so out of guilt. He had manipulated me into staying abroad to handle matters for him, which made me miss saying goodbye to my sister while she was dying in childbirth. The dinner was just his way of pretending to be sorry. As our dishes were served, my husband saw a news report about a fire at a top-tier postpartum care center downtown. He immediately ditched me and rushed to the scene. The fire station headquarters was just one block over! And he had specifically taken leave that week. I accidentally answered a call on his personal phone, and that was when I realized why he had been away from me most of the time. This man would not even buy me a cheap birthday gift, yet he had spent a packet to book a stay at a postpartum center for his mistress! I had to see for myself what kind of woman would have him so spellbound. I was determined to make him pay back every single item he had gotten from the Grant family, with interest.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

The beastfolk are a powerful race, and to strengthen our family's power, Father arranges marriages for both me and my stepsister, Arya Hearthguard. In our past lives, Arya entered a high-profile marriage into the wealthy, powerful dragon clan, while I was forced to wed into the crumbling lion clan. The clan leader of the dragons—Draken Vorgath—was cold and detached. He cared more for gold than his bride, leaving Arya in a glided cage of loneliness. Overwhelmed by the desolation, she seduced the future leader of the fox clan, who was flirtatious.. And when the scandal exploded, Draken resolutely divorced her. Arya's scandal brought shame upon our family. Despite Father's favoritism, he was compelled by family honor to exile her in disgrace. Clan leader of the lions and King of the Jungle—Kael Hawthorne—was a man of unwavering devotion. Our marriage blossomed, and within a year, I bore him a golden lion cub blessed with the Aetheric Divinity. With the Aetherborn, Kael rose to rule all beastfolk as the chieftain, and I became their most revered chieftess. Consumed by envy, Arya sneaked into my son's first birthday feast and strangled the golden lion cub in his cradle. Then, she set the place ablaze and burned me alive along with it. When I wake up, I am back on the very day of our marriage. This time, Arya volunteers to marry into the lions and leaves me the chance to marry into the dragons. I accept everything meekly with only a tenth of her dowry and marry Draken. Later, she bleeds her dowry dry, propping up the lion clan, only to fail in conceiving a cub. When the elders demand she mate with other males, regret drowns her. As for me, all I want in his new life is an heir and a quiet life among the dragons. But no one warns me about the dragons, least of all that my supposedly cold-hearted husband will relentlessly demand me once awakened. Or that his members came in pairs and ridges!

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

On the day we receive our bonus, one of the staff members of the finance department gives me 500 dollars worth of vouchers for the fast food restaurant downstairs. He tells me that my wife, Jillian Dunn, who is also the company's president, specifically ordered him to do so. In utter disbelief, I seek out Jillian and question her. "Didn't we agree that whoever secures the project will get a 50,000-dollar bonus? Stop messing around! I still need to pay for Freya's cochlear implant!" "I'm not messing around with you," Jillian answers seriously. "These vouchers can last you for a whole month. I wouldn't even give them to you if you were anyone else. "Money is tight right now at the company. Besides, Freya has been deaf for more than a decade now. She can survive being deaf for another decade." The next day, Jillian gives one of the interns a sports car that's worth 50,000 dollars. I look at the photo she uploads of her and the intern grinning widely as they sit in the car and give it a like. Jillian must assume that everything is proceeding smoothly since she has signed the contract. However, she misses the additional condition that's printed on the last page of the contract. I dial her rival's number, asking, "Ms. Swan, are you interested in Project Charlie?"

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."