Novel & Cerita Tas Pocket Wanita

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

"Buzz… Buzz…" Alexia's cell phone vibrated as she sniffed then reached out for her phone which was in her side pocket and when she took it out she realized it was an unknown number. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Who in the world is this?" she soliloquized then swiped her thumb across the screen taking the phone to her left ear. "Hello… am I speaking with Alexia Chaney?" A deep male voice came through the phone as Alexia sat upright. "Yes, this Is Alexia Chaney," She clears her throat. "I heard you can play the guitar and I hope you will like a day's job, you will be paid handsomely for it. Are you interested?" said the man again over the phone as Alexia blinked. "Okay, I am interested. What is the occasion and venue?" She asked. "SBE wine corporation will be launching a new wine tomorrow alongside the birthday celebration of the CEO, Richard Robertson, and there will be a night party at his Estate," The man said as Alexia's eyes popped wide open and she parted her lips. She couldn't believe she just accepted an invitation to perform for a man who just wrecked her show. "I will text you the address, first thing in the morning. Get prepared because it is a big party and Richard loves something exceptional," said the man as he hung up.

At the Iron Moon pack's victory party, celebrating the defeat of our sworn enemy, an Omega named Sienna accused me. The charge? Embezzling five million dollars from the pack's treasury. She spoke with self-righteous fury. "Are we really going to let a selfish thief continue as our Head Beta? I propose we strip her of her title immediately and exile her!" I stared at Caleb. The Alpha of the Iron Moon pack. The man I had loved for ten years. He should know better. Those funds were paid out of my own pocket years ago when the pack was broke but desperate for weapons and territory expansion. Now that the pack's treasury was overflowing, I was simply taking back what was mine. Yet the man who had held my hand just days ago, promising to officially make me his mate-to-be, now glared at me. "What do you have to say about Sienna's accusation of stealing pack funds?" I curled my lips into a smirk. "I have nothing to explain." They really thought I was some easy pushover. But they didn't know I was the only daughter of Magnus, the Alpha King of all North American packs. If they wanted to mess with me, they better be ready to be torn to shreds.

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

War. War is all we know. War for peace, war to take, war to protect. War for resources. It is impossible to avoid war because your neighbors won’t. If you are perceived as weak, you will be targeted. Your land and wealth stolen, your people killed, sons enslaved and daughters raped. To survive in this world, more important than oxygen; is strength and a cold heart. The only source of strength are mana veins. He who owns mana veins has the right to live and the right to rule. He who owns mana veins better have the strength to keep it or long life is but a pipe dream. Xasha hated war. War had taken everything from him and gave nothing in return. He hated that all wars were over petty things like pride and pocket change. He always looked to the vast wilderness with longing. He wondered why all the warmongers hadn’t turned their spears there. Where vast lands and untapped wealth were. Once he became a father. Xasha, the naïve, knowledge-loving merchant, decided he did not want his child growing up in the same world he did. He decided to change the world, end all war and unite the abandoned region. How will he do it? By starting a war, a war that will end all wars. Not a war with his neighbors over pride or a few mana veins. No. He will rage against the wilderness and the world beyond.

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

After dating for seven years, I proposed a hundred and one times to my boyfriend, Jason Brown. However, he always told me that he was not ready, rejecting my proposals. This continued to my 28th birthday. In his suit pocket, I found a ring box. Thinking he was about to propose to me, I was overjoyed. However, to my horror, I saw him going down on one knee to propose to his assistant, Marcella Hopkins. Right before my eyes, he placed the ring I had yearned for so long on her finger. When one of his buddies asked what he planned to do with me, Jason wrapped his arm around his new love and chuckled. "Dude, I don't think I can bring myself to marry a woman who wants to get married that badly. She's so needy. However, if I do get a second wife, I might consider her. After all, she is hopelessly in love with me." He was sure I would wait for him, and he even placed a bet with his friends that I would crash his wedding. However, on his wedding day, I never showed up. Moments before his wedding ceremony was about to start, he suddenly noticed me, fully dressed up in a wedding gown in a separate banquet hall. Seeing me about to marry someone else, he almost went crazy.

My mother-in-law, Mabel Grath, always liked me to arrange family trips. But she only transferred a small fraction of the cost. She called it a “deposit.” “I’m just following what you young people do with deposits. It’s not like I’m going to skip out on the rest.” After the trip, however, she never mentioned the rest of the payment again. I did not really mind. I quietly paid out of my own pocket for five-star hotels and luxury meals every time. Then one day, my husband’s sister, Marlene Grath, dropped a sarcastic comment in the family group chat. “Noelle Frost loves playing travel agent with my mom’s retirement money. “For all we know, she’s signing us up for cut-rate shopping tours and skimming the kickbacks.” Mabel replied with a smirking emoji. It seemed she was silently agreeing with her daughter. My heart sank. Over the years, I had taken them on trips all over the country and abroad. I had covered at least 100,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Yet, I still ended up looking like the one taking advantage of them. Mabel transferred four hundred dollars to me again and asked me to arrange a seven-day tour to Erope. So, I went ahead and booked them a one-day farm stay just outside the city.

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."