Sus Photos Novels & Stories

My boyfriend, Drew Myers, has proposed to me 99 times. Meanwhile, his childhood sweetheart, Tammy Fowler, has relapsed into depression 99 times. When Drew makes his 100th proposal, Tammy's depression strikes once more. As usual, he picks up Tammy's call, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a tired sigh, he turns to me and says, "She's having another breakdown. We'll have to put the proposal on hold this time." Despite it being my birthday, Drew starts clearing away the freshly served dishes as if it were any other day. Fearing I might complain, he shoots me a cold, disapproving glance. "I know you're jealous of Tammy, but she's the one who's struggling. You're a soldier. You should be the bigger person and give her some leeway." Not only does Drew want me to eat Tammy's scraps, but he also orders me to bring them climbing gear at midnight. When Tammy shares intimate photos of them hugging online, his only reaction is to lash out at me. "Do you honestly find satisfaction in pushing Tammy to another breakdown? Is this the honor of a soldier? Your cruelty sickens me!" Over and over, he tears down my character and mocks my integrity. But this time, I simply look down at the special forces recruitment letter in my hand and say nothing. Drew remains oblivious. At last, I'm the one who's letting go.

I helped my wife, Kim Carey, rise from obscurity into stardom, only to discover that she was having an affair with a rising young actor who looked like me. When I asked for a divorce, she cried and begged me not to leave. In the end, I caved in. I gave her three chances. The first time, she stayed up all night to post a public statement clarifying all the rumors between her and Emmett Stone. She canceled all her work and stayed with me for an entire week. The second time, on my birthday, she publicly announced that Emmett was her soulmate. She even released intimate photos of the two of them. She buried herself in my arms and said righteously, "Emmett is depressed. I'm only doing this to comfort him. You're the only one in my heart. This is the last time. Please believe me." Then, she abandoned me in the wilderness, just because Emmett had suffered a minor injury on his hand. The final time, my father was critically ill and urgently needed a huge sum of money for surgery. She refused to even transfer a single cent to me. "All the money has been invested in Emmett's new drama," she said coldly. "Your father won't die that quickly." That night, my father missed the best window for treatment and died on the operating table. My heart was completely shattered. When Kim finally returned home late that night, I asked for a divorce once more.

"We can't do this," I whispered, even as Jamie's fingers traced my jaw. "Tell me to stop," he commanded, his grey eyes darkening with desire. I should have. But instead: "I can't." His hand slid beneath my shirt. "This is wrong." "Then stop touching me." "I can't." His voice was raw. "Every night I think about you. About this." When his mouth finally claimed mine, it tasted like sin and salvation. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around him, and reality dissolved. "Right now, you're mine," he growled against my neck. "Even knowing what it costs?" I gasped. "Even then." What happened in that kitchen was unforgivable. Beautiful and terrible and absolutely devastating. But our secret didn't stay buried. When a mysterious text arrives—*"I saw what you did"*—followed by photos taken through my window, I realize someone was watching. Someone knows. And they're not just threatening to tell Aiden. They're playing a twisted game where we're all pieces on the board. As paranoia turns to obsession and obsession bleeds into violence, I face an impossible truth: the person I should fear most might be the one I thought I knew best. **Some secrets refuse to stay buried. Some desires demand everything. And some love stories end in blood.**

When I turned eighteen, I completed my shift and finally gained my wolf. The Lycan King of the Northern Tribe—Karl Gilmore, my father's close friend—handed me photos of his sons and told me to choose a mate. Whomever I chose would become the next Lycan King. Without hesitation, I pointed to his eldest son, Sven Gilmore. Everyone was stunned because everyone knew, for years, I had always loved the third son, Erik Gilmore. I'd trailed after Erik like a shadow, declaring loudly to the whole world that I'd marry him someday, that I'd be his mate. In my previous life, I did marry Erik. And he did become the next Lycan King. But a year into our marriage, he betrayed me with my stepsister and got her pregnant. Furious, the old Lycan King forced her to abort the pup and exiled her to another pack. From that moment on, Erik despised me. He started bringing home a different mistress every night. I was furious, helpless, and eventually, I died in the dead of winter. I never expected that when I opened my eyes again, I'd be back at eighteen, standing at the very moment I was meant to choose my mate. This time, I won't choose Erik. This time, I'll step aside and let him have his love with my sister. But why did Erik break down in tears when I chose someone else, begging me to come back?

What do you want from me? ’ she finally managed to ask, her voice trembling. Logan’s lips curled into a dark smirk. ‘Since you were the one who took those photos that damaged my reputation,’ he said, his voice dripping with disdain, ‘it’s only fair that you face the consequences.’ Alessia’s heart beat wildly as she tried to comprehend the meaning behind Logan’s words. Before she could gather her thoughts and ask what kind of punishment he had in mind, Logan’s hand clamped down on her jaw, holding her firmly in place. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath caught in her throat. In an instant, Logan lowered his head, capturing her lips with his own in a possessive and demanding kiss. *************** After a fateful night, Alessia awakens to the realisation that she has given her virginity to a stranger. With only a note and a bundle of money as clues, she embarks on a journey of self-discovery and motherhood. Years later, Alessia finds herself navigating the cutthroat world of paparazzi reporting while raising her genius son, Milo. Her quest for a scandalous scoop leads her to the enigmatic billionaire CEO, Logan Wilde, whose face bears an uncanny resemblance to her son. As she dives deeper into Logan’s world, she can’t deny the magnetic attraction between them. Logan, suffering from a haunting secret, feels the same way. Determined to know her, he makes an unexpected proposition...

On my eighteenth birthday, Alpha Alex Seinfeld placed photos of his two sons in front of me and told me to choose one to be my mate. Without hesitation, I chose his eldest son, Eric Seinfeld. Every werewolf in the room stared in disbelief. After all, everyone thought I was hopelessly obsessed with his younger son, Wayne Seinfeld. I had long decided that I would become his mate. In the past life, I got exactly what I wanted and completed the marking ceremony with Wayne. Because of that, he successfully inherited the Alpha position. But not long after the ceremony, I discovered he had been secretly seeing my younger sister, Nala Graham. My father flew into a rage and married Nala off to the Greywind Pack in the south. Wayne believed I was the one behind it. From that day forward, he hated me. He surrounded himself with countless shewolves. Every one of them looked similar to Nala. I knew he was trying to punish me. On the day my sister Nala gave birth to the Greywind Pack Alpha's pup, Wayne secretly replaced my pregnancy medicine with slow-acting wolfsbane. I died with resentment while pregnant with my unborn pup. Thanks to the Moon Goddess, I was given a second chance at life. This time, I decided to let them be with each other. What I never expected was that the Moon Goddess had also given Wayne a second life. He had been reborn too.

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

After graduation, I struggle to find a job, while my girlfriend easily lands a position at a major company. She has been with me for two years, and to cheer me up, she even lets me hold onto her payroll card. Once I finally start working, she worries about my long commute and immediately buys me a car. Everyone around us envies me for having such a thoughtful girlfriend. To save up for a house, I secretly deposit my salary into her account. A year later, we decide to get married. Excited, she grabs my hand and says, "I know you don't have much saved. I don't need any wedding gift. All I want is your love." I am deeply touched by her consideration. But on our engagement day, she pulls out photos of me with a dozen women and accuses me of cheating. I look closely and realize I have never even met any of them. Then she shows me my card's transaction history, filled with charges at the notorious Solara Club. "You had my payroll card, and you used my money to indulge yourself!" she cries. "I'm not marrying you. Return my car and all the money you spent over the years. It adds up to 800 thousand dollars." I calmly place the payroll card she gave me on the table and say with a smirk, "Fine, let's settle this properly." When I present the detailed account prepared by my top lawyer, she is stunned.

I spent five years helping my boyfriend Marco rise to the position of Don. I nearly died countless times, but I didn't care; I loved him. He used to look at me tenderly and promised to propose to me publicly at his Don succession ceremony. But on that very day, he held the hand of another Mafia Principessa Sophia Romano and announced their engagement. To completely get rid of me, Sophia pulled a stack of photos from her bag and slammed them into my face. "See for yourself! She's been sleeping around to get intel!" In the picture, I was leaning into a man's arms. I tried to explain, but Marco interrupted me. "I always knew you were lowborn, but I didn't realize you were this cheap." "Get out!" Marco pointed at the door. "Elena, you are exiled from the family. Never let me see you again." I finally saw this man for who he truly was. He was completely subservient to me when he needed my help to seize territory, but after becoming the Godfather, he needed a more distinguished Donna, and therefore no longer needed me. I sneered; they had no idea that the man in the picture was my brother, the Don of the most powerful Corleone family. Sophia’s family was nothing compared to the Corleone family. I stopped arguing and simply turned and left. But when my true identity was finally exposed, he crawled back to me, weeping and begging for my forgiveness.

After working abroad for several years, I returned home, only to have my parents arrange a blind date for me. He was tall and strikingly handsome, honest in character, steady in demeanor, and came from an excellent family background. In short, the perfect candidate for a husband. I told myself that sooner or later, marriage was inevitable, so I settled on him. The day before the wedding, I went to the church—only to be stunned by the sight before me. The entire place had been transformed into something sinister and grotesque. The walls were plastered with terrifying photos of corpses, the floor littered with wax figures of severed arms and legs, and even the flowers had been dyed black, dripping with blood-red stains. But the most infuriating part was the image hanging right at the center of the church—an AI-generated picture of me, pinned beneath my fiancé, as he whipped me. My whole body trembled with fury. I stormed at the staff still working on the decorations, ordering them to stop immediately. Just then, his best friend, Nina Cullen, walked in. "Don't stop. Yves prefers this wedding style." I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "How is that possible? Who in their right mind would decorate something as joyous as a wedding with gore? This is insane!" Nina only gave a cold, arrogant laugh. "That's the theme. If you want to marry him, you'll have to accept it." Speechless, I immediately called Yves. "Yves, I'm not interested in getting married in a haunted house. You'd better restore the church to normal; otherwise, this wedding is off."