Story Like Novels & Stories

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"

After undergoing a gallbladder removal surgery, I get discharged while having to hunch over in pain. In fact, I have to go home while attached to a surgical drainage bag. Before I even reach the front door, I hear Rayne Randall, my sister who's ten years younger than me, wailing at the top of her lungs. "Dad, there's a splinter in my finger! It hurts so much!" "Let me blow your booboo away for you, Ray. It won't hurt anymore once I'm done." As soon as I open the front door, I see my dad rolling his eyes at me. His previously happy disposition quickly morphs into an annoyed one. "Why are you home this late? It's just a small surgery, isn't it? Look at how much of a wuss you're being! Ray wants to have fish for dinner, so you'd better take your ass to the market and buy a fresh one for her!" My surgical wound hurts so much that I keep trembling in pain. I can barely move an inch. Having noticed that I'm not moving at all, he chucks a slipper at me right away. "Just go! What's with that gloomy look of yours? It's all thanks to you that our luck is gone! Every time I see a jinx like you walking around, I feel even unluckier!" As far as I remember, my dad keeps calling me a jinx who has ruined his family. Now that I've had a close brush with death, I don't want to keep living in this world like a pathetic loser. In that case, I might as well let everyone in this family have a real dose of my misfortune.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

I was a retired mercenary. A middle-aged man like me, without any ‘proper’ skills, could only work as a stockkeeper at a private company. On my first day at work, the warehouse lost an important item, and I was accused of stealing it. My new colleagues scoffed. "Hand over what you stole, you penniless loser! This warehouse hasn't lost anything for eight years. If you hand over the stolen item, we'll submit an appeal letter on your behalf when you get arrested by the police." I stepped forward to look at a mark left behind in the corner. "I can find what was stolen." The entire warehouse fell silent. When my boss arrived after hearing the news, he scrutinized me condescendingly. "If you can find the stolen item, I'll give you half of the company shares. If you fail, you'll have to pay with your life!"

My mother was asking me and my sister to choose the man we wanted to marry. My sister, surprisingly, did not choose the gloomy STEM student she spent four years pursuing. Instead, she went for the rich but infamous playboy. Shock colored my mother's face. "I know he's rich, Joan, but what if you get all known and unknown STDs? I thought you loved Gil. Are you sure you're making the right choice?" That did not sway my sister's mind. That alone told me what I had been suspecting all along. Like me, my sister was reincarnated. In our previous lives, she happily married Gilbert Terrason, but he left her on read for ten long years. His cold treatment drove her a little gaga. That playboy, however, stopped his philandering lifestyle for me and loved me like his life depended on it. He gave me all his riches, and we became the model couple everyone wouldn't stop talking about. Then, it happened during the ball. On my tenth wedding anniversary, my sister, consumed by rage, burned us into cinders. Here we were, on our second chance in life. This time, I took Gilbert's hand. "No takebacks, Joan. Don't try to do a third take." My sister snickered. "As to you. This time, all the love in the world is coming to me." Ah, yes, love. Joan still did not get it. Love was the most unreliable element in any marriage.

She was discarded like a tool after being drained dry, yet became the only mate of a tyrant Lycan king. Lyra's newborn son was taken from her by her Alpha husband and given to his mistress to be raised as their heir, while she herself was accused of infidelity. Falsely accused, condemned to die, she lay in a pool of her own blood waiting for the end—when she heard a voice. “Let her go.” Kael Ashvorn, the tyrant known as the Reaper, pulled her from the pile of corpses and marked her in front of everyone. His hands were stained with blood. Everyone said the Moon Goddess had cursed him, that he would never be given a fated mate or an heir. Until he caught her scent. Her second chance was the most dangerous man alive. His only mate who could bear him a child—was a woman already broken. Was he the Reaper—or her only chance to survive?

Sienna was Alpha Landon’s fated mate, yet she could only stand by as her own son called another woman “Mommy.” She gave them everything but they never cared. Shattered by their betrayal, Sienna walked away from the pack, her mate bond, and the life that destroyed her. Years later, she has risen from the ashes as a powerful businesswoman, returning to the capital to expand her empire. But fate throws her into an alliance with the man nobody would expect: the new Alpha King, Arthur, the ruler of the entire werewolf world. He doesn’t want a mate. Neither does she. They swear they’ll never fall for each other. But why does his touch calm her raging wolf? And why does his heartbeat stutter every time she says his name? And why does it feel like the real danger isn’t their enemies— but the bond they’re trying so desperately to deny?

The day before the ceremony, my Alpha Heir mate Lysander brought home an Omega who still bore an old mark — and insisted she become his Luna. The beautiful, fragile-looking Omega leaned against his chest, her eyes red. "I can't. If you keep me, my mate will die without me." Lysander answered lightly, "Then I'll give up my Luna-to-be. We'll trade. I'll order him to break your mark at once." The Omega laughed softly. "That’s for the best. But are you sure you don't mind?" Lysander smiled back. "A dull puppet who spent her whole life waiting to be marked by me. How could she compare to you?" She glanced around the chamber and pouted. "I don't like any of this. It was all prepared for her." Lysander kissed her forehead. "I'll replace all of it. Something better. For you." Their love story became the talk of the realm. And no one cared that I was the "dull puppet" who had been traded away.

Old commander, Peter Howell, slipped and fell into the water, while his guard—my brother, Joe Castro—was off setting off fireworks with our foster sister, Felicity Castro. After getting a second chance at life, I didn't run to find Joe like I had before. I jumped in without hesitation and dragged Peter out. Last time, I went to get Joe. He made it in time and saved Peter, and from that day on, Peter treated him like a hero. His career took off. But Felicity had started a fire with the fireworks. Her face was badly burned, and she couldn't handle it. In the end, she took her own life. Joe stayed eerily calm and told me it was just an accident. But the day my college acceptance letter came, he grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace and smashed my leg. His face twisted with hatred. "Commander Howell knows how to swim. Why did you have to drag me there? "If you weren't trying to get my attention, Felicity wouldn't have gotten hurt. She wouldn't have died! And now you think you get to go off to college and start fresh? Not happening. "Your future, your life, you'll use it to pay her back!" He beat me until everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Peter fell into the water.

I'm Aurora, a commoner, an inferior bloodline. My parents taught me a lot of things growing up, but the most important one is never piss off a royal. They run the world, they make the rules, and they are brutal when they don’t get exactly what they want, especially an unmated commoner girl. Most royals fuck commoner girls for fun, knowing we couldn’t possibly fight back. Some of them do it to get their release and then kill them, leaving behind no chance for an heir that is a half-breed. I’ve never seen a commoner female return from the palace. There aren’t many of us left in my pack, but my alpha has managed to convince the royal warriors that there aren’t any unmated females in his pack and if there were, he would gladly hand them over I’m unmated, only a year and half away from turning twenty to feel my mate. I pray to Moon Goddess that I need the protection of a mate. Until that day, a tall, brute man walks into my house like he was invited in. I tremble while he grins. He is a Royal.