The Hows Of Us Script

They told me an alpha’s daughter must choose a man to take the rank and position of Alpha of her pack. Why? They said I was too fierce, too headstrong, that this was my father's last wish. Was it? They picked out potential partners and pushed their top choice forward.They said he's the best man for the job. Was he? Lies. In this labyrinth of deceit and manipulation, a twisted game of power and betrayal is at play. They think I have nothing but they're wrong. I have two men ready to stand by my side. Julian Knight, my bodyguard. A man they don't realise is ready to d!e for me. And Quade Steele, the Lycan King. A man as dangerously powerful as he is handsome, offers me his partnership. I know he has his own agenda, but what is it? I'll pay any price for revenge because I am the very storm that will destroy them all. I’ll reclaim what’s mine, turn the world on its axis, and become the ultimate master of the very game created to ruin me. My name is Layla Blackwell and I'm nobody's b!tch.

After a year on the run, Quinn finds herself in the small town of Beaver Falls, working as a bartender, the only skill she knows. But Beaver Falls isn’t exactly your normal small town, and Quinn is about to learn that she has stumbled onto the only place that can save her from her ex. Not only will it provide her with the protection she needs, but it also holds the key to who she really is, and the man that she is destined to be with.

The night before my wedding, I was in a terrible car accident. I fell into a coma, and my body was broken and bruised. While I lay unconscious, my fiancé called off the engagement and married his childhood sweetheart instead. My mother went to demand justice on my behalf—but never made it back. She died in a sudden, brutal accident along the way. In that moment of chaos, it was my childhood friend who stepped in. He knelt on one knee outside the hospital with a wedding gift of a hundred thousand dollars and quietly handled my mother's funeral. I was wheeled into surgery. I lived, but was left with a permanent disability. And still, he promised to stay by my side, for life. I was deeply moved. We got married. But five years later, I overheard him talking to his secretary. "Mr. Davidson, you arranged for someone to hit your wife with a car, just so Lucy could marry the one she loved. Aren't you afraid she'll find out?" "For Lucy, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I've already given Ruby the rest of my life. Isn't that enough?" I covered my mouth, holding back a sob. Only then did I realize—the marriage I believed in had been a lie all along. So be it. I'll disappear and let him be with the woman he truly loves.

“No! Please, Santiago--” I whimpered, as his hand seized my wrist with an iron grip, yanking me forward, dragging me effortlessly toward the chair he had pulled into the center of the room the night before. The symbol of my humiliation. He stopped right in front of the chair, spinning me around, facing him. "You want me to be your monster, mi ángel?" His hand grabbed my throat, tilting my chin up until my eyes locked with his dark gaze. I flinched from the sudden movement. "Cause I’ll be your favorite monster — just say the word, cariño." Santiago’s face hovered only inches from mine. His lips so close, I could taste the sweetness of his breath — once making butterflies take flight in my stomach, now curdling my insides into a cold, suffocating fear. Slowly, his free hand rose toward my face. I held my breath. His touch was deceptively soft and gentle, caressing my cheek. His thumb lingered against my lips, tracing them slowly, his eyes fixed there as he spoke — his voice soft, yet heavy with menace. "Divorce is not an option, mi amor. We took a vow five years ago. Remember?" He finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, catching every flicker of fear before he delivered his last words like a verdict: "Till death do us part."

Everyone who lives will die, and nothing they do can stop it. That's the way things are. The circle of life. And a single undeniable truth. The minute we are born we start our journey of that cycle and we will continue down that path until we take our very last breath. However, not all life spans are the same. Some people live to an old age. Others die young. Some die of natural causes, and others die of accidents, murder, or disease. It's the sad truth of being human and death doesn’t discriminate. But what if someone could see their death coming? Would they do everything in their power to stop it from happening, or would they live their lives to the fullest since they knew it was coming to an end? Would they fight tooth and nail to be able to stay earthside for even a minute longer or would they succumb to the inevitable? This is the universal question and the only ones who can answer it are the people who saw their deaths, people like me. My name is Remi Woods. I'm eighteen years old, and for as long as I can remember, I've been able to see how a person will die with a single touch. At first, I wasn't quite sure what was happening and I was terrified that maybe I was going crazy, but after my visions kept coming to fruition no matter what I did, I knew I was different, and not in a good way.

Zia Scott is about to be married to her childhood sweetheart and boyfriend for 5 years, Edward Bartlett. But on the day of the wedding, she suddenly wakes up to realize she had turned into a 5-year-old girl. Meanwhile, Edward, thinking that she had run away from their wedding, is left devastated and deeply wounded. Will Zia be able to return back to her happy ending or will she forever be trapped inside a little girl's body? On the other hand, in the case of Gray Stewart, Zia's lesbian best friend, time was not enough to heal the pain of losing her girlfriend. Will she be able to move on and welcome another relationship or will she forever be stuck in the past? Join them in this romance tale as they venture the concept of love filled with faithfulness and heartbreaks. And together let's seek out the answers to our questions.

On the third day after my death, Eliza Sutton received the call to claim my body. She was resting in another man's arms. She said nonchalantly, "He's dead, huh? Just cremate it and call me afterward." My body was fed to the flames and reduced to ashes. When the staff were done, they contacted Eliza again. Irritation flashed in her eyes as she snapped, "I heard you. I'm on my way."

First thing Leah Labelle did after Andrew Fillion's funeral? Ask her husband Ian for a divorce. Why? Because Ian's entire family thought the perfect way to honor his dead brother was to knock up the widow. Naturally. "My parents are threatening to hang themselves or starve, Leah. What was I supposed to do? It's just IVF with Cecilia—we're not even doing anything. Why are you making this a divorce thing?" Leah shut her eyes. Her chest cracked open, and the tears she'd been holding finally broke free. "Ian, we're MARRIED. You seriously don't think this is next-level insane?" Her husband was about to have a baby with someone else. But sure—she was the crazy one.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.