The Hard Way Novels & Stories

On my way to the bank, I stumbled across a post: [What's the most shameful thing you've done behind your partner's back?] One comment stood out: [I secretly married my first love, and my girlfriend keeps dumping money into our joint account like an idiot. She actually thinks I'm saving for a house. There's already sixty-seven grand in there. Once she hits eighty, I'm taking it all!] The flood of likes made my stomach twist. I pulled up my account balance. Sixty-seven grand. Not a penny more, not a penny less. So, my boyfriend secretly married his ex.

I've been trying to woo Caroline Davis for the past five years just so I can receive a healthy body and return to my original world. But Caroline, in her attempt to appease her first love, Kyle Holden, makes me the scapegoat for Kyle's crimes and gets me locked behind bars. After getting released from prison, Caroline forces me to drink the alcohol that's given to me by Kyle despite knowing that I'm allergic to alcohol. Flooded by despair, I try to commit suicide. "I'd rather die than continue to pathetically woo a woman who doesn't love me at all!" I cry out. But the system suggests that I exchange away 30 years of my lifespan for a brand new conquest target instead.

As if being sold as a slave wasn't enough, she has to bear the ruthless alpha king a heir which she does,but in his absence, because she had to run to save her life and that of her babies. Years later, she returned but not as the pathetic little girl that she was. she is now a woman sort after by many alphas and he would have to fight them all to win her back.

During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts. I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat. "Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?" The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more." In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts. On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts. He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit. "Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?" The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin. But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?" Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place. The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter. "Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!" Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot. "Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

Each time my husband touches my body, I lose my control. When he puts his lips on mine, I burn in passion and I want him to keep loving me like this. when his rough fingers touch my curvy body, I become restless, and moan his name, but He does not take my name but his ex's name. My name is Jasmine Smith, the secret wife of Asia's biggest mafia king Eric Varghese. It is said that Eric Varghese is a psycho. He took the life of his lover with his own hands, just because she attempted to escape from his prison. Who would to get close to a devil like him? He left me no other choice for the sake of that 4-year-old innocent girl, Ryle Who was imprisoned in that monster's house. In order to save her I willingly married this monster. Rumours fly about his cruelty, especially towards the women in his life but I'm his possession now. His secrets might hold the key to my past but at what cost?

I can’t tell if we’re at war… or dancing around something far more dangerous. Getting traded to the Montreal Bears should’ve been a dream come true, the team I grew up idolizing, the jersey I always wanted to wear. Except there’s one problem. Luca Moretti. The NHL’s notorious bad boy. My new right wing. And the one man who’s made it his mission to outshine me at every turn. Too bad for him I’m faster, sharper, and my numbers don’t lie. Not that I’m competing. I’d never sink to his level. He’s reckless, infuriating, and impossible to ignore a storm of chaos that throws me completely off balance. When we’re not clashing on the ice, he pushes my buttons with teasing nicknames like Princess, Pretty Boy, and Babygirl. I hate it. I swear I do. So why does my body react like I don’t? Contain Explicit Content

Jack Ingleton uses a business trip as an excuse to rendezvous with his lover again. Before I can process this, the private investigator I hired gives me an update—Jack's lover is pregnant! I want to wreak havoc and leave them to die, but it turns out Jack's scheming to kill me so he can marry his lover! Now that I know everything, I prepare a counterattack. Sorry, but my plan will be put into action before yours!

I trusted her. I trusted him. Big mistake. When I caught my husband and my best friend tangled in betrayal, my world shattered. And my daughter? She chose her as her new mom. Me? Just a housewife. Just the ‘overbearing mom’ who cared too much. Done. I walked away, leaving their apologies and tears in the dust. My husband dropped to his knees, begging, “Please, come back. We can fix this.”My daughter clung to me, crying, “Mom, don’t leave me.” I laughed: “Fix it? Don’t leave? Too late. You had your chance. I don’t need either of you anymore.”

What can a mother do for the sake of her daughter? " Take it off, your suit!", Asher summoned Max when he accidentally splash water on her uniform. "What?---I---ahhh--", she stuttered. Max has no escape. How can she do it if she's not a guy? Read to find out more.