The Doll's House

One day, I received a call from the property management. They politely advised me that even if it was a wedding, there was no need to make such a ruckus all night long, disturbing the neighbors. They said they were caught in the middle, and it was hard for them to deal with it. I replied, "You must be mistaken. I don't even have a boyfriend, so how could I be getting married?" Since I refused to admit it, the property management sent me a video from the community's security cameras. In the video, the hallway was decorated with lights and flowers, and guests were coming and going. A large group of people were escorting the bride into the new home. And the groom was none other than my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with two and a half years ago!

Adelaide should have died on Selection Night. Instead, the Devil carried her across the veil—bleeding, furious, and burning with magic she shouldn’t possess. They're bonded, like it or not. Her power destabilises his realm. Their desire threatens to consume them both. As Hell twists and reshapes itself around her presence, one truth becomes impossible to ignore: Adelaide isn’t just his chosen. She’s the spark that could remake the underworld… or rule it. If she survives him long enough to claim the crown. ****Excerpt**** Adelaide hung suspended in the Devil’s ropes—breathless, trembling, every inch of her alive with flame. He circled her like a predator savouring the final moment before the kill. But he wasn’t hunting her. He was devouring the sight. “Look at you,” Apollo murmured, touching a glowing fingertip to the curve of her hip. Her body jolted, heat spiralling through her so sharply her vision blurred. “My Little Flame… you burn so beautifully.” The ropes tightened at his silent command, lifting her chest, arching her spine. Her breath broke. Magic crackled between them, alive and ravenous. He dragged a slow trail of fire up her ribs. She shuddered. “Tell me you feel it,” he whispered against her ear. She hated how fast the answer came. “Yes.” His grip closed around her throat—not harsh, but claiming—and her pulse leapt into his palm as if reaching for him. “You deny me with your mouth,” he said, “but your body kneels.” Heat built—pressure, light, something too big for her ribs. “Apollo—please—” “Yes,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Give in.” She did. Her flame erupted in a blinding burst, racing along the ropes, lighting the chamber in gold. Apollo inhaled sharply, awe and hunger twisting his features. “Good girl,” he breathed, ruined by the sight. “Burn for me.”

Ryat Briggs, a sex-addict CEO of Catalyst Investments, the top-ranked investment company in USA. Tiffany Roberts, a scholarship student at Stanford university, studying Law. The worlds of these two collided after Tiffany's boyfriend—Zach, broke up with her at the college's Halloween party. With a bottle of alcohol in hand, Tiffany cried on Dumbarton bridge where the horny CEO Ryat accidentally met her at. The gravitational pull was undeniable. Crying in his arms stirred dirty, dark desires in Ryat's crotch. Tiffany didn't hesitate—the unspoken circumstances were beyond her control. In a heartbeat, she fell on the devil's bed, moaning and crying for more. ...

When I first started at Serenity Hills, the head nurse told me coma patients paid well—but the job was messy and brutal. They could only get IV nutrition. Screw that up, and you're basically killing them. Today was day thirty of looking after the girl. Young. Gorgeous. Like always, I hit the nurse's station to grab her IV bags— But then I saw it. Thirty glucose bottles gone. IV nutrition? Still sealed. Chills shot down my spine.

Because I was a cheapskate, I rented a cheap apartment. The catch? Someone had died in it. The soundproofing of the house was bad, and I could hear my neighbor’s wife moaning every night. But my other neighbor told me that there was no one living in the apartment next to mine.

"It is an anxious, sometimes a dangerous thing to be a doll. Dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen; they cannot 'do'; they can only be done by."

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

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.

Coral learns her entire life had been a lie, she’s forced to come to terms with the fact that she comes from a long line of Pure Elemental Conjurers whose abilities and genetics are very unique in their world. Coral is told she’s a fire elemental, and not just that, she’s what society calls an Elementalist. A unique elemental with the ability to not only control the four main elements of the earth, but has an unlimited amount of power. Her rear ability has only been seen once, on her ancestor, and due to the purity of her family’s bloodline she inherited that ability from that ancestor. Coral will slowly struggle to maintain her sanity among a world of abnormalities, especially when her identity becomes revealed and everyone at the academy finds out she is the illegitimate daughter of Steven Carter and Bella Ray. This revelation puts her directly into the spotlight, and her words and actions constantly draw the attention of students. More than once, Coral will be forced down by her insecurities and fears, and the new revelations regarding her parent’s death.

His hand fisted in my hair while the silk tie kept my wrists helpless above my head, his voice dark and thick with lust against my neck. “You’re soaking my fucking pants, Celeste—moaning like a needy little wife who wants to be fucked until she forgets her husband’s name. Is that what you want?” I arched into him, breath hitching as the words tumbled out, “Yes, sir.” ___ Celeste Maddox is the picture-perfect political wife, composed, elegant, and utterly unwanted. Behind closed doors, her marriage to golden boy Ethan is a hollow performance: no affection, no passion, just cold smiles and a carefully curated public image. But everything shatters when she walks in on Ethan tangled in the sheets with her own sister. Heartbroken and reckless, Celeste lets herself unravel for one night in the arms of a commanding stranger—someone who touches her like she matters, who makes her ache and moan like she’s never known pleasure before. She never planned to see him again. But fate has other plans because the stranger? He’s Dr. Rowan Wolfe, the couples therapist Ethan hires to fix their broken marriage. Now, every session is torture. Every glance, a spark.And when Ethan stops showing up, Rowan doesn’t stop seeing her. Talking turns to touching. Therapy turns to sin. And Celeste finds herself tied to the bed of the one man who makes her forget every vow she ever made. She swore she’d never cheat. He swore she was only his plaything. They’re both liars. However, some sins are worth every damn consequence.