Romans & histoires Table Harry Potter

At the annual company banquet, the boss had the tables and chairs from the logistics department removed, leaving only a stainless steel dog bowl in the center of the stage. "Logistics is just the company's watchdog," he said coldly. "Since when do watchdogs sit at the table and eat?" The top sales champion laughed as he dumped leftovers into the bowl. The boss casually slipped a black garbage bag over my shoulders. "From now on, you're the company's living trash can. Catch it properly." Laughter erupted across the room. Amid the jeers, I silently tightened my grip on the universal access card in my hand. What they didn't know was that the building's special approvals for water and electricity—and all its property management connections—were maintained by this very "dog face" of mine. I tossed my ID badge into the dog bowl and turned to leave. Let's see how long you last once the new year passes—without logistics there to hold everything together.

“On your fours, now.” The Cold voice of my new Master, the ruthless and dreadful Alpha of the Red Moon Pack, brought cold shivers down my spine. Shivering, I quickly climbed on the bed. Tears circulated in my eyes, and gradually dropped in my cheeks. Of course, he doesn't care how I'm feeling. I was going to lose my virginity to a dreaded Alpha, who sees me only as his breeder and his slave. Once I give the Alpha a child, I'll be killed! * My name is Daphne Knight. I'm 22 years old, orphaned, wolf-less omega, and a breeder because I was sold by my very own father to the terrifying Alpha for money and power. “You're nothing but a breeder to me.” He growled cruelly at me. If I don't give him a pup, I'd be killed, and if I give him a pup, I'd be killed too. All I am is just the Alpha's Breeder. But what if the table turns?

My sister was the golden child, the pride of our family, but she had a rare blood disorder that required treatments costing thousands every month. To keep her alive, I became her personal blood donor, working nonstop to pay for her care and delivering food all day and night. But one day, she nearly died from hemorrhaging after trying to abort a pregnancy. That’s when I learned the child she was carrying belonged to my boyfriend. When I confronted him, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he dragged me to the operating table himself. “You were born to be her blood bank. Dying for her? It’s the best thing you’ll ever do.” I was left there, bleeding out, my life slipping away with every drop. But as death closed in, something changed. The people who once hoped I’d disappear—the ones who used me, betrayed me—they all began to unravel, losing their insanity.

She cannot escape him. On a blind-date, she unknowingly meets the most dangerous man to exist, and falls into his world of darkness and desire as both his mate, and his worst enemy. *** I rest both my hands against the table. "I'll go on another date with you, if you tell me one thing about yourself that no one else knows." He’s silent for a long moment, pondering my offer. Eventually he quirks his fingers at me. "Lean closer." Bracing myself against the table, I lean over it toward him, noting every detail about his face as I get closer. Every hair, every freckle. His beautiful is unimaginable. His breath warms my skin, dancing over my ear as I dip my head toward him. Will he kiss me, and make good on my sinful thoughts? His voice is like an erotic caress as he murmurs in my ear, "I'm a murderer."

Isadora didn’t want to come to Ashwyck Academy. It wasn’t the haunting towers or the iron gates that unnerved her. It wasn’t the students—dark, beautiful, terrifying things cloaked in magic and menace. It was what it meant. Coming here was a last resort. A whispered admission from her parents that something was wrong with her. That despite being born of a temptress and a mind-bending killer, despite all the bloodlines and rituals and whispered prophecies—Isadora was still painfully, tragically human. She was quiet, clever, and careful. Not powerful. Not wicked. Not like the others. Her parents called it “late blooming.” The High Table called it “defective.” But no one said it out loud. Instead, they tucked her into Ashwyck like a final gamble and hoped the academy could awaken whatever dark inheritance slumbered beneath her skin. She hadn’t wanted to come. She still doesn’t belong. But Ashwyck has its own secrets. And Isadora is about to discover that the parts of her she’s most afraid of are the ones they’ve been waiting for.

I had become the Luna of the pack. Mom called it a blessing. She said I'd married up, and that I should bring my sister, Ruby, into the same circles. Ruby was already scheming for a noble match. That was the whole point of her come-of-age celebration. I hated all the schemes. And the lilies on the table made it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell. My chest tightened. I realized I was allergic But I couldn't rest. "Bring Ruby around. Say hello to the wealthy families. You're the Luna. They'll treat you with respect," Mom said. I stayed. The wine she handed me made things worse. And my pampered sister, out of jealousy, forced an handful of allergy medicine down my throat. It was the kind forbidden for pregnant women. And I was six months carrying a wolf pup. In tearing, gut-wrenching pain, my pup left me. Mom cried again and again, begging for forgiveness. I pulled my hand away. Whatever love I had for her was gone.

As soon as my husband sat at the dining table, he couldn't stop himself from talking. The humiliations of my school days had become his favorite entertainment, served up to his drinking buddies like appetizers. "Back then, she got her clothes torn off in the bathroom, beaten so badly she crawled on the ground like a dog, too terrified to make a sound. If it weren’t for my kindness—" That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I wanted a divorce. He laughed it off, utterly unbothered. "Seriously? It’s just a joke! That was ages ago. You’re way too uptight—it’s just for a laugh, right?" For a laugh? Was I the only one with a past? Did he think he was untouchable? Maybe I should tell a few embarrassing stories about his precious childhood sweetheart. Fine. If it’s all about “fun,” I hoped his sweetheart found it equally hilarious when her turn came.

“Sign it.” The divorce papers slid across the table, along with the pieces of my heart. I married Shawn Black against my family’s wishes believing his love could survive anything. I was wrong. When his ex came back, I became invisible. And the man I gave everything to walked away without looking back. One druken night, lost and heartbroken, I met him Slade Knight, the reclusive billionaire everyone feared. Cold. Mysterious. Untouchable. He offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. A marriage built on lies, meant to destroy the man who broke me. But fate had other plans. Because before I ever said “I do,” I was already carrying his child. Now, trapped between revenge and forbidden desire, I’m learning that the most dangerous thing about Slade Knight isn’t his power… It’s the way he makes me wish the lie was real

"Meet my sons, Mia. Sons, meet Mia, your soon-to-be step-sister." Then three tall, sturdy, muscular men joined us at the table and I had no doubt that they were my step-brothers. They looked just like their father. I gasped, shrinking in fear as I remembered where I had met them. Quinn, Jack and John, the triplets of misery in my high school life. I would be a fool if I ended up liking the boys who had bullied me and treated me like I wasn't worth . They are different at this time from the wolves in my dream. They are playing the role of a gentle older brother. I heard that they were in the Navy and I must admit that was where fitted them. I hoped that they met with men who were stronger than they were who could give them a taste of their own medicine and bully them, just as they had bullied me. Later, they claimed that I was their mate. "Keep it a secret from our parents, okay? We'll cherish you, Sis."

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”