Story About Superhero

Fiona, a perfect Luna, is left heartbroken when she discovers her fiancé has cheated on her. In an impulsive act of revenge, she orders a call boy for a night of wild passion. As the sun rises the next morning, she leaves cash behind and slips away, believing she's had her sweet revenge.Little does Fiona know, her life is about to take a jaw-dropping turn when she finds herself pregnant after the passionate night with the call boy. Amid the turmoil and crisis of her unplanned pregnancy, she accidentally crosses paths with the man from that fateful night. However, the man who stands before her isn't just any call boy, but the future Alpha King—her fiancé's boss.Her heart races as she gazes at the powerful figure towering before her. The Alpha King smirks, cornering her with an air of dominance and desire. Raising an eyebrow, he taunts Fiona with a question that sends shivers down her spine: "A call boy, huh?"

When Laila got pregnant with the child of her adoptive brother Jason—the young Alpha of her pack—she thought she might finally have a reason to claim a place in his world. But when Jason returns home with his fated mate by his side, Laila learns that she was nothing in Jason’s eyes. Expelled with nothing but heartbreak and the tiny life growing inside her, Laila disappears into the human world, determined to protect her child in her own way. Six years later, Laila—now Vanessa Harper—is no longer the fragile, wolfless girl. She’s powerful, respected, and completely looks like a different person. She believed she could live her new life with her daughter Ava peacefully without seeing Jason ever again, until fate forces her back into Jason’s life. Old lies, pack politics, and the truth about her daughter all collide— and this time, Jason won’t let her walk away easily.

An employee blasted me on TikTok, accusing me of not approving her wedding leave. Ainsley Castillo ranted, "Our marriage rates are low; birth rates are low. It's all because of toxic capitalists like you! You won't even approve my wedding leave. In your eyes, am I just a workhorse? Not even a person? I believed your nonsense about building an all-women company and a women-friendly workplace. Now your true bloodsucking capitalist face is showing!" The video blew up instantly, and countless young people empathized with her hardcore. They piled on online, cursing me, even doxxing me and sending razor blades. As the boss, I went live and confronted her head-on. "Sorry, but I can't approve her wedding leave. She can quit and go through labor arbitration, or sue me, but her wedding leave is out of the question." The live stream exploded in views that day. Among the supporters for her, some claimed to be lawyers, offering to sue me pro bono. But Ainsley looked troubled. "I just want my wedding leave. I never thought about quitting, let alone suing her."

“Prey, tell what happens when… if you lose? What benefits am I to reap from this bet of yours?” This bastard had a lot of nerve.I could not back down from him. I knew I could see this contest through. I know I can make my dream a reality.“If I lost than…I will serve under your modeling agency for free for half a year. Does that seem fair enough?” I said regaining my confidence. I could not help but glared back at Elijah. “Sounds like a fair trade to me, little kitten.” He said. I do not like that nickname. No matter how sexy it sounded on his lips.“If I lose than I will publicly apologize to you, I.” Elijah said with a smile repeating the terms. “But it you lose than you work as a model in my business for free for half of the year. Sound about right?” Elijah said.I shook his hand. “Deal.”Elijah smiled to the point where his teeth reminded me of the big bad wolf. “Deal,” he said softly.

We had agreed to spend the New Year with our own families, but at the last minute, my husband, Drake Murrell, changed his mind and insisted I go back with him this year. I agreed, planning to take this opportunity to finally tell him the truth about who I really was. When we first got married, my parents told me to keep a low profile so that Drake, who came from a single-parent household, wouldn’t feel pressured. So I hid the fact that I was the daughter of the richest family in the capital, the Thorntons. When we returned to his hometown, I specifically bought my mother-in-law, Diana Murrell, a pair of gold bangles. She accepted them with a beaming smile, praising me again and again for being such a thoughtful daughter-in-law. However, the next day, as I passed by the old oak tree at the edge of Willow Creek, I overheard her talking about me with a group of people. "Oh, you have no idea. My daughter-in-law is absolutely ridiculous!" My hand froze midair, still holding my phone, as I instinctively ducked behind a haystack. I heard her continue loudly, "She bought me a pair of gold bangles this year. The moment I touched them, I knew they were fake! I’m telling you, they’re probably those cheap online knockoffs, like the kind that cost next to nothing and start fading the moment you wear them!" I was stunned with anger. She called pure gold fake? Looks like the million-dollar New Year gift I had prepared for her wasn’t necessary anymore.

My name is Sophia Colombo. I am the youngest daughter of the Colombo family, one of Newarke City's most powerful Mafia dynasties. My father is the Don, and my three older brothers control most of the family's operations across the Rooklyn, Kings, and Canhatte boroughs. On the Veste Coast district, the name Colombo commands power and fear. My best friend, Jennifer, always says I've been too sheltered by my family, that I can't see through a man's lies or schemes. She even offered to "help" me put that to the test. So, under the guise of looking out for me, she seduced my fiancé. After winning him over, she stood there, smug and self-satisfied, watching me like I was the punchline to a joke. "I told you—you're too naive," she said. "Those men are all cunning and full of tricks. If it weren't for me, you'd have been fooled into tears a hundred times over." I was furious—so angry I could barely breathe—but I couldn't find a single word to argue back. This time, I chose my fiancé in secret, keeping it from her entirely. He was the heir to the Lucia family. And just as I expected, the moment she found out… she made her move again. What she didn't know was that this fiancé was someone I had carefully prepared… just for her.

After I succeed in helping my wife, Claire Gibson, establish her company, I decide to become a full-time stay-at-home dad without a worry in the world. Since my daughter, Nancy Davidson's 10th birthday is coming soon, I want to make the event fancy. So, I decide to place an order on Hill Hotel's birthday banquet services, where one full table of food costs 18 thousand dollars. When I'm swiping my card, the hotel employee shoots me a look. "Mr. Davidson, your card can barely foot for a 500-dollar bill." Embarrassed, I go home and question Claire about the family's finances. She looks at me apologetically instead. "My company has been participating in a bidding process lately. The newly-appointed governmental senior official is a greedy one, you see. I've spent quite a lot of money in bribing him just to get things done. "Once my cash flow is back, I'll definitely throw Nancy a fancy birthday banquet!" In a considerate manner, I tell Claire that I completely understand her situation. But soon, I start calculating the assets I still have. After all, my dad is the newly-appointed official. There aren't any bidding processes going on in the government at all. I'd like to see where on earth Claire has spent all of her money.

On our wedding night, my fiancé's best friend barged into our room for the third time, claiming a wedding prank. Having had enough, I warned Sam Whitman that if we didn't consummate our marriage that night, it was as good as over. He glanced at my half-unbuttoned dress and dismissed my words as a tantrum. Then Candace Lombard stormed in for the ninth time, ripped off the covers, and livestreamed our intimate moments. Sam merely pushed me aside and told me to be understanding. She climbed into our bed, smirking as she claimed the spot between us. "Wedding night prank? I get it," I grinned, leaning into her livestream camera. "Alright, everyone, fire up those donations! I'm about to let my husband take a mistress live. Let's make it a show!"

My younger sister was crazy about novels and always envied the way ordinary heroines pick up penniless heroes and climb the social ladder. So, she started picking up men wherever she could. Until one day, a man with a face covered in sores collapsed at our doorstep. I instantly recognized the signs of syphilis and warned my sister repeatedly, and only then did she give up the idea. However, fate had other plans: my sister's best friend "picked him up" instead and married into a wealthy family. My sister held a grudge. On my birthday, she locked me in my room and set it on fire. No matter how desperately I begged, she refused to open the door. Outside, she sneered: "I know you're just scared I'll live better than you, so you want to drag me down into misery with you. People like you don't even deserve to be a sister!" I burned alive, my body reduced to nothing but ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister insisted on "picking up that man." This time, I quietly stepped back, letting her have her way—of course, I chose to let her succeed.

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.