Story Check

My sister, Fiona Miller, has recently opened a luxury spa for business. As such, I bring Dad along to check it out. Of course, we pick the most expensive treatment package available. But barely a few presses from the male therapist, and Dad feels a sharp pain in his chest and can't seem to breathe properly. All the color drains from his face, and cold sweat starts beading on his forehead. I call the manager over, but he seems annoyed. "Oh, he just has poor blood circulation. He'll be fine after the massage. That's just a normal reaction." I can't believe what I'm hearing. "My father has a heart condition. What are you lot even doing to him?" The manager, Seth Zeller, explodes as if I've insulted him and raises his voice. "That's his own pre-existing condition. How is that our problem? We run a legitimate business here. No refunds once treatment begins. Got it?" I gesture at the credentials displayed on the wall. "I don't see your name anywhere up there. You're not even certified. Is this the kind of operation Fiona's running?" Seth folds his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at us. "I'm the boss here. You and your dad look broke as hell. I can tell you're just trying to get a free massage and walk out without paying." "Let me spell it out for you. This package is 38,000 dollars. Adding in the cost of my emotional distress and lost time, the total is 100,000 dollars. Pay up now, or I'm having you both arrested." A massage that almost kills Dad costs 100,000 dollars? So that's why Fiona was suddenly so eager to open this spa. As it turns out, she and her boyfriend are running a fraud scheme. I reach for my phone to call her, but Seth is already making a video call. "Babe, you need to get here right now. A couple of deadbeats are trying to get a free massage and walk away without paying."

On my sweet sixteen, my three brothers came home with a girl named Sylvie. They said I have to treat her like my family. I didn’t think much would change. But years later, everything did. Jace, my youngest brother, shoved me down the stairs for her. Asher—the oldest, who once promised he'd protect me forever—told me to get out. So I left. Quietly. They thought I was just acting out. So they took Sylvie to France, didn't even bothering to check in What they didn’t know was that I’d signed my name on a contract—one that aligned me with our family’s biggest rival by becoming their youngest chemist. Written in black and white, I could never go home again. The night they found out I was really gone for good? They broke. Every last one of them.

After I studied and lived in Descensio for five years, I finally graduated and was ready to return to my home country to take over my dad's company. When I arrived at the Sullivan Group building, I took a picture and posted it on my Instagram story with the caption. 'Since you're the man I love most, I'm here to see you immediately after graduation.' Yet, a woman appeared out of nowhere and slapped me as soon as I arrived at the company's lobby. "It's her! She's the hussy! She had seduced my husband back in high school. Now that my husband has become the director, she shamelessly showed up here to flirt with him. So, I want you girls to beat her up. I'll take the blame if anything happens." While the woman was cooking up a story about me seducing Marcus Lane, a director of Sullivan Group, others around simply looked on coldly and judged me. She slashed my limited-edition bag to pieces and smashed the expensive seal I wanted to give my dad. "You're just a gold digger wearing and buying fake luxury goods. It's just a few hundred dollars. I can still afford to pay you." However, little did she know that everything I had was real. Even if she and her director husband worked for the rest of their lives, they would never be able to afford to pay for the damages.

When my four sons were finally old enough for preschool, I arrived at the school office with my marriage certificate and their birth certificates, ready to sign them up. But the lady at the counter frowned and said, "These documents don't check out. According to the system, your kids don't even exist." I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me. I remembered when Sheldon Clem and I got married—he was the one who handled all the paperwork, the birth registrations, everything. I never imagined that when I tracked him down with our four boys, he'd be holding his childhood sweetheart in his arms, with her little girl snuggled against him. And then we heard him sweet-talking her right in front of us. "Don't be mad, babe. I've got everything set up for us overseas. Gigi is going to the most expensive private school, and you'll be living in the nicest penthouse downtown. "Sure, she gave me four sons, but all my love and money are with you. I only kept her around because I felt sorry for her. "What else do you need? My will's already signed. Everything goes to you and Gigi." Riley Anderson pouted, smug and satisfied. "If you don't love her, then she's the other woman, not me. She's got no right to fight me for anything!" So he never went bankrupt. When we got back home, Sheldon acted as if nothing had happened. "Honey, I've found this amazing project overseas, so I won't have time to come home much. I'll need you to hold down the fort at home." I smiled and nodded. "Sure, go ahead." If that was how he wanted to play this, then fine. I'd make sure he really went broke, and then I'd find my boys a new father.

I was anonymously reported for fraudulent credit card use and arrested. The victim turned out to be my own husband. I pulled out my phone to show them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, but the police officer frowned as he looked at me. "Ma'am, the Lucas Richardson on this certificate is not your husband. You're still unmarried." I could not believe it and asked the officer to check again immediately. He looked at me with sympathy, but quickly spoke again, "Our records show that Lucas Richardson's spouse is Vivian Clarke and that they have a three-year-old child together. Ma'am, if you cannot prove your relationship with him, you will face criminal detention." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Six years ago, Lucas had a secretary named Vivian who was obsessively in love with him. On the day Lucas and I got married, she caused a scene and threatened suicide. In the end, he had to personally handle the situation for three days before coming home. It turned out that his solution was to marry Vivian instead.

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

No conscious? Check! Inappropriate humor? Check! Breaking several laws to be with their mates? Check! No f*cks left to give? Check! These wolves have gone through hell and back - and now they're back for revenge, claiming back what was once taken from them... Book 1: Hell's Alpha (Chapter 1 - 66) (WARNING: Polygamy) Book 2: Hell's Angel (Chapter 67 - 140 updating) (WARNING: huge age-gap couple) Book 3: Hell's Beast (Coming soon!) (WARNING: Contains actions of fur-to-skin sex)

After five years of being mates with Eric Wheeler, the Alpha of the Lightchaser pack, I'm finally expecting the long-awaited heir. I'm overflowing with joy as I head to the Werewolf Alliance, thinking it's time to give Eric both these surprises together. Just as I'm about to complete the final claiming ceremony, one of the Elders from the Alliance exclaims in shock, "Ms. Gardner, the mark on you is a temporary one! Unfortunately, the secret treasure left by your parents cannot be inherited by the two of you. He… isn't your mate at all!" How can this be? We're clearly fated mates! I request to check the Alliance's mate registry. The name next to Eric's is unmistakably his childhood sweetheart's—Ella Howell. She's the daughter of the former Beta and someone whom the entire pack had expected Eric to marry before I appeared. I laugh absentmindedly. How great. Now, Eric is going to lose two things that are crucial to his life.