That's Why They Call Me Slim Shady

My girlfriend found out that my water bottle cost $30,000. She then demanded I buy her father an $8 million luxury apartment in the city center. I politely refused. She said furiously, “Don’t be so stingy! He’ll be your father-in-law someday. What’s wrong with getting a head start on being a good son-in-law?” She even compiled all of our expenses during our relationship into a PowerPoint presentation and demanded we split everything. “If splitting everything equally is too much trouble for you, then just cover it all. You can afford it! “My family and I have already discussed it. I’ll give you a one-dollar gift. It means you're my only one. How perfect is that?” When she noticed I was silent, she played her final card. “If you can’t agree, then let’s forget about getting married. “You’ll never see me, your darling baby, ever again!” I looked at the detailed list of expenses on the screen. It even included $2 she had spent on a bus ride to see me. I smiled and said, “Sure. I’ll give you a $143-million gift, with more romantic meaning. And I’ll buy that apartment for your father right now.”

On the night of our seventh anniversary, I was pulled into an emergency C-section. Before I could scrub in, my director caught my arm. “Gianna, the woman on that table is under the protection of a man powerful enough to ruin this hospital by morning. Do not make a mistake.” I glanced at the patient chart and frowned. Men in our world including Enzo were all obsessed with their wives. How could a man like that possibly have another woman he cherished? The surgery went well. Clean incision. Clean closure. No complications. I had barely exhaled in relief when a swarm of men in black dragged me to my knees outside the recovery room and forced me to my knees outside a private recovery suite.

I was just eighteen when I mistook a business deal for a fairy tale, letting a schoolgirl crush blind me to the truth. My prince charming? He turned out to be more of a wolf in an Armani suit. Now, five years and a thousand broken pieces later, I've rebuilt myself into someone I barely recognize, a CEO, a survivor, and most importantly, a mother to my beautiful son Griffin. I thought I'd buried the naive girl who once dreamed in a garden. Apparently, the universe had other plans. My ex-husband's back, claiming he's changed and wanting a second chance. And then there's James Drake, a billionaire with scars that match my own, who makes me wonder if my heart remembers how to beat for something other than revenge. Between poisoned flowers showing up at my office and threats creeping too close to my son, I'm learning that success is the best revenge, if I can stay alive long enough to enjoy it. They say love is sweeter the second time around, but can I trust it when betrayal wore the face of love once before? One thing's certain: I'm not that naive wife anymore. And this time, I'm playing for keeps.

The day before I am supposed to move into a nursing home, my daughter-in-law, Emily Freeman, cancels the deposit I have already paid without my permission. "It's not easy for Ryan to earn money. Instead of helping us save money, you want to stay somewhere so expensive," Emily complains. I frown and explain that I paid with my own money. Her expression darkens as she rants, "Isn't your money our money? Besides, how much money can you possibly have? Didn't you get all of it from Ryan anyway? "You don't help take care of the kids or do any housework. Now, you're just bleeding us dry so that you can enjoy yourself!" My son, Ryan Pratt, sides with her and criticizes me as well. "Mom, this is such a waste of money. If you ask me, you might as well go to a senior community and get a bed there for ten dollars. Someone will still take care of you." I am so furious that I faint on the spot and am rushed to the hospital. With the refunded money, Ryan takes Emily and goes on vacation abroad with his in-laws. After being discharged, the first thing I do is put the apartment I once gave my son as a wedding gift up for sale with a real estate agent.

The night before her wedding, Chelsea saw her sister whimpering in her fiancé's arms. She called the night escort service for s#x revenge. So he spends the night together under the influence of alcohol. Little does she know that the man she thought was a night companion, turns out to be Liam Shax, the narcissistic and spoiled CEO!

This is the story of the most powerful magical creature, Alexander's. Alexander has set himself on a mission to find his father's twin brother Arthur who cruelly killed his whole family along with his lover to become the most powerful warlock. Alexander is finding the 18 mythical relics of Goddess so he could revive his dead lover Daniel and his both elder siblings. His overly possessive elder brother Aadam and his overly protective and caring, mother hen sister Aleena. Trying to find the secret of Arthur's death which only his parents and elder siblings knew he stumbled upon a growling mutt who was claiming him to be his mate. A mate which Alexander never wanted & ran off at the sight of when he encountered one. He never believed in mates, as in the world of witches they choose their life partner themselves. The overly protective, hell possessive Alpha of all the alphas Damian who wants nothing but his mate only. Who has been waiting for his mate impatiently from the past 80 years since the moment he turned 18. Alexander tried hard to run away from this growling mutt but somehow destiny always made him stumble across the domineering alpha. Alexander was broken and Damian wanted to mend him but how will he do that when his mate isn't ready to give him a chance. Alexander had decided there's no place in his heart for anyone else except for his dead lover Daniel whom he wants to bring back to life. No one can take his place, be it mate or not, while the mutt seems to can't keep his hands to himself. Alexander was a total spoiled brat who was in for nothing more than a one night stand while Damien wanted him all for himself. Now how will their story bloom?

I am the sole heir to the Alpha King of Northaria, but I'm an Omega. All of Northaria awaits the day I come of age, hoping I'll awaken the kind of Alpha bloodline strong enough to claim the throne. But when the day finally comes, I'm still just a low-rank Omega. So, they say that the true heir must be one of the three "pledged Alphas" my father adopted from the major tribes. Whichever one of them marks me becomes the ruler of all Northaria packs. But none of them have ever truly looked at me. The one I like most is Quin Lawson. When I fainted on the snowy plains as a child, it was he who carried me back to the pack. I've tried countless times to get close to him, only to be met with nothing but cold, contemptuous stares. I used to think he was just emotionally distant—until the Moon Goddess Festival. That night, I saw him kneel before Silvia Anderson, the daughter of my father's second-in-command. His voice is soft, and his gaze is tender. "I'm marrying Evelyn only to repay the Alpha King's kindness. Once I get the inheritance, I'll make you my Luna. As long as she doesn't harm you, I'll even grant her a piece of land to live out her life in peace. You're my true mate." The night before the marking ceremony, my father asks me who I choose. I think of the way all three of the pledged Alphas look away whenever our eyes meet. I smile and say, "I'm the rightful heir of Northaria. My mate should be someone who brings the greatest strength to our pack. And so, I choose Alpha Heath of the Pyraxis pack." The air goes still. My father frowns. "Him? Are you sure? Every one of his mates has died under mysterious circumstances. His wolf is known to be vicious—no one dares get close to him. You truly want to be his mate?"

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my cheeks burn as I dodge my husband, Ethan Grant, leaning in for a hungry kiss. I push him toward the nightstand for a rubber. What he doesn't know is that I've tucked a surprise in there, a positive pregnancy test. I can already see it, the way his whole face will light up the second he finds it. But the moment his hand goes for the drawer, his phone goes off. His best friend, Henry Miller, comes on the line in Danish. "Mr. Grant, how was last night? That new love couch our company rolled out is treating you okay?" Ethan lets out a low laugh and answers in Danish, "The massage feature's great. Saves me from having to rub Sandy's back myself." He still has me pulled tight against him, but his eyes look straight through me, like he's seeing someone else. "This stays between us. If my wife ever finds out I slept with her sister, I'm done." It feels like someone just put a knife through my chest. What they don't know is that I minored in Danish in college, so I catch every single word. I force myself to stay calm, but the arms I have looped around Ethan's neck won't stop shaking. At that moment, I stop hesitating and decide I'll take the offer from that international research project. Three days from now, I'll be gone from Ethan's world for good.

Charlotte Jenkins’s biggest regret was ever falling for Zac Cooper, a man as cold as ice. She spent three years chasing him and two more as his wife, thinking she had finally melted his frozen heart. In the end, she realized she had only been fooling herself. Her mother-in-law despised her, her husband treated her like a stranger, and his precious first love kept showing up just to remind Charlotte she was still in the picture. The final blow came when Charlotte caught Zac and Jodie Quinn together at a hotel. Just as her heart shattered, she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t stay to hear excuses. She threw down the divorce papers and disappeared without a trace. * When they met again, Charlotte was a successful single mom with a thriving career and plenty of admirers. In the pouring rain, the man who had once treated her like she was nothing stood in front of her car. He looked humbled at last. In a hoarse voice, he begged, “Lottie, come home with me.” The window rolled down, and a little boy who looked just like Zac glared at him. In a childish but fierce voice, he said, “You want to chase my mommy? You have to get past me first.”

Three days after my father’s death, I was home, planning his funeral. A woman and a group of bodyguards stormed in. She shoved me, hard. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she screamed. "Get out of my house! Now!" I froze, stunned. A new housekeeper? Maybe my brother Liam hired her. I kept my voice calm. "This house is mine. Liam knows that. If you have a problem, take it up with him." Her face twisted into a mask of rage. Then she slapped me. "Yours?" She scoffed, looking me up and down with disgust. "This is my boyfriend Liam's house. And you look like you don't belong here. I don't know if you're the new maid or the cook, but I don't care. Get the hell out. Now." My blood ran cold. I pulled out my phone and texted my assistant. [Tell Liam to get home and handle his girlfriend. Now. Or he won't see a dime of the family money.]