Suwatu Villa Jogja

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

After five years of marriage, my husband, Abel Brooks goes on a business trip that lasts half a year. When he returns, he brings his first love, Cora Garrett, back. She's already three months pregnant. Abel says that life is tough for her and wants her to move in with us temporarily. I object, and he tells me to know my place. His tone is scornful—it seems he's forgotten that the villa we live in was one of my wedding gifts. He and his family have leeched off me all this while. This time, I'm going to stop providing for them. I smile and call my assistant. "Draft a divorce agreement for me now. To think a live-in son-in-law would have the nerve to bring his mistress home like this."

Christy had to do surrogacy for money, for a lot of money, for some reasons... She spent a turbulent night with a strange man in a strange villa for one, not one, many rounds of sexual intercourse, and eventually got pregnant. After giving birth to a twins of one boy and one girl and giving them away like agreed, her pain didn’t stop. She gave birth to another baby boy on the way back home. With overjoy, she kept the youngest son to herself and raised him by herself. Will she meet the other two babies of hers ever again? Will she meet the father of her three children ever again?

When I arrive at a villa to fulfill an order, the beautiful young woman living there looks at me expectantly, her face flushed. "Stop looking around—there aren't any dogs here. I'm the one you need to feed…" She changes into inviting lingerie and pins me to the couch. Her voice is coy, and her lips are soft. She parts them slightly and looks at me lovingly. "Remember to use all your strength to fill me up, okay? If you don't, I'll give you a bad rating…"

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

“Like we both know… you’re my tool, I am the handyman, and I’ll use you as I wish…” He growled glowering down at me as his hand gripped my waist. “You’re not human Hardy” I shook my head letting the tears fall. “We’ll see about that,” He said as his entire mouth aggressively covered mine. Joanne McCaine’s night suddenly went from normal to Bizarre, after being taken against her will the night of her best friend’s birthday, and to a villa owned by Hardy, a Ruthless billionaire who lived a secretive but yet mercurial life. Not knowing why she was suddenly kidnapped, Joanne soon learned that her best friend, Bailey and her father were in Hardy’s debt and Bailey had written Joanne off as payment in her place. Now wrongfully held as Hardy’s hostage, Joanne became not only his tool for revenge but also the center of attention of pleasure for Hardy after shaking his world- - .*

The day I signed my organ donation papers, my family was gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, holding a cake they'd baked themselves to celebrate the start of her first clinical trial. I have terminal brain cancer, and my stepsister, Hailey, had stolen my husband Zane's medical credentials. She'd blackmailed a member of his staff to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one spot in an experimental treatment that could have saved my life. The pain became too much. I swallowed a handful of painkillers, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I signed away the publishing rights to my novels, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane handed me the divorce papers and I signed without a moment's hesitation, he sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. Even when I offered Hailey the seaside villa and all my assets, their expressions softened into something like relief. "Don't worry," my brother soothed, gesturing toward Hailey. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave them everything they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.

When I report at Brookley College, I'm told that Deborah Larson has already completed the enrolment. She's also moved into the villa my father bought for me. She and my fiancé have already become a renowned loving couple on campus. I feel the calluses on my fingers from years of playing the guitar. This is so creepy. If she's Deborah Larson, then who am I? And is this contemptuous man before me really my fiancé?