The Last House On Needless Street

I catch the eye of a talent scout on the street and am sent abroad for training. However, as soon as I land, my passport is snatched away. I'm even locked into a cage. The people who beat me up tell me death is the only path for people who disobey orders at Elder Corporation. But if my memory serves me correctly, Elder Corporation is the name of my fiancé's company abroad.

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

The Rowan estate has stood for centuries, its walls bearing witness to generations of triumph, tragedy, and a quiet, inescapable weight. Known for influence and misfortune, the Rowans guard a secret: the house is a memory vessel, absorbing the emotions and events of its inhabitants. Only one child per generation—“the one who carries it”—feels its imprint. For Jace Rowan, that child is him. Haunted by flashes of his brother Elias’s mysterious death in the sealed west wing, Jace lives with hallucination-like memories, déjà vu, and a physical sensitivity to the house’s presence. When Ava arrives at the estate, the house takes notice. Her father’s disappearance connects her unknowingly to the Rowans, and her grief fuels an emotional resonance the house cannot ignore. Objects from her past—her father’s watch, sketches of the west wing, and a brass key—materialize mysteriously before her, drawing Ava deeper into the estate’s labyrinth of memory. Jace knows the danger: the west wing reacts to emotion, and Ava’s connection could awaken truths meant to remain buried. As tension mounts, Ava and Jace confront both the house’s power and their own growing fears. The west wing does not seek to harm but to claim understanding—feeding on memory, fear, and revelation. In the shadows, a presence lingers, one that Jace fears is connected to Ava’s father. Bound by fear, curiosity, and an unspoken attraction, Ava and Jace must navigate a house that remembers, reacts, and judges, uncovering secrets about Elias’s death, Ava’s father, and the legacy of the Rowan family itself. In a world where emotion is power and the past is never truly gone, the house holds its breath—and waits to see who will survive its memory.

As Jimmy investigates an abandoned car, he finds a journal that sheds light on a mystery from twenty years before. As he explores his memories he discovers the truth behind the city and the supernaturals who run it. ~~~ Inside of each of us is the darkness wanting out. But what if that darkness is the ending and the beginning of us all? The full moon hung like a ghost in the night sky as Yada overlooked the lights of the city below from her tenth-floor apartment. She studied the diamond twilight for over an hour before turning away--No longer able to stomach the sight. It had been nearly a month since she had been home, having stayed in the coven’s inner chambers since the city fell under siege to a rival house a little over three weeks ago. Over the years, the city had seen many battles for control of the streets. To date, the two bloodiest battles took place within the last fifteen years. The Badens orchestrated both attacks. Led by Darius, the Badens seemed hell-bent on ruling the city with little regard for the Michelsons. The Michelsons governed the streets for nearly two hundred years and were a formidable force. Led by Gabriel, the Michelsons protected the city, and it survived unscathed. The streets were free from the blood deals, which went unnoticed by the public eye, normally. However, this last battle proved more difficult to keep quiet. It had been an all-out war for control, drawing innocent people into the blood feud as the Badens raided the streets for warriors to fortify their numbers. The Michelsons retaliated through unusual ventures to keep the war silent.

I stared at the Vercetti marriage contract my father pushed across the table. Without hesitation, I wrote my half-sister’s name, Demi, and slid it back. My father froze. Then his eyes lit up with ridiculous excitement, like he’d just won the lottery. "How can you give such a perfect chance to your sister?" Last life, my marriage was a joke for everyone around me. I was the red-haired, untamed little witch who dared to climb into the orbit of Cassian Vercetti, heir and leader of the old-blood Vercetti crime family. I was never perfect nor obedient. He loved goddess gowns. I wore mini skirts and danced on tables. He demanded missionary, traditional, orderly intimacy. I wanted to climb on top, ride him, lose myself completely. At a gala, society wives laughing at my hair, my dress, my “wildness.” I thought he would at least pretend to defend me. He didn’t. “Forgive her. She’s not…properly trained.” Trained. Like a dog. I spent my entire last life suffocating under his rules, bending myself bloody to fit the shape he wanted, until the night our house caught fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I learned of the arranged marriage. I looked at the contract in front of me. This time? I think the nightclub boys suits me better. But the moment Cassian realized the bride wasn’t me, he shattered every rule he’d ever lived by.

There was a time when the famous young actor Andrew Cortez dominated the movie screens, commercials and model runways in the Philippines. He was in his peak of career, enjoying the free life and fooling around uptown girls. When all he thought he'll be playing around rich girls then he met Pia Drew Barcenilla, an heiress like the ones Andrew dated. However, Pia Drew, unlike all the other rich girls who were demure and soft-spoken, was blunt and emotionless. Pia Drew's cold treatment towards Andrew landed her the job she definitely hated. As they finally got along, Andrew and Pia Drew fell in love but their romance did not sail even with power and money. After Pia Drew's short exposure to the limelight, they both went back to their own separate lives. Years later, fate brought them back together. Pia Drew sketched Andrew's dream house and soon they started building it together. They were in love and living in the moment when they met an accident. Pia Drew laid in coma and Andrew has to live his life alone, unsure of tomorrow. Five years later, Pia Drew woke up and remembered nothing. It was then that Andrew realized money and power don't stop anyone from suffering. Now, Andrew stood in front of his unfinished house he had been building for the last five years. He found it hard to decide on how he would continue building it when the one he had built it for and with for years couldn't even remember they were building it together after all. Andrew has to spend his lifetime understanding the fact that Pia Drew's memory is never coming back.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

On the day the Cole family went bankrupt, Adrian Cole left behind a suicide note and went alone to the snow mountains to end his life. I chased after him without hesitation, searching for him in the snow for a full ten hours. Just as despair hollowed me out completely, I saw his secretary, Zoe Bennett, livestreaming Adrian's proposal on social media. One of his friends joked in the comments, "You're about to be a groom. Aren't you afraid your woman will get mad?" His reply was icy cold. "I only promised her the title of Mrs. Cole. She shouldn't even think about anything else." Another comment followed. "She's marrying in with ten billion in investment. Is she really willing to swallow that kind of grievance?" I could almost see Adrian sneering as he typed, "She got ten billion for the position of Mrs. Cole. She's not losing out. If it weren't for her, Zoe wouldn't have been forced to go abroad. These last few days are my compensation to Zoe." My fingernails dug deep into my flesh. Calmly, I burned everything that had anything to do with him. On the day of the wedding, he went mad searching for me everywhere. In the upscale venue across the street, I had just slipped on a diamond ring given to me by another man, Julian Cross. Unbeknownst to him, while he was calculating the countdown to our breakup, I was also preparing to marry someone else.

In my previous life, my sister thought that since my husband and I had high-paying jobs, she could swap her son with my child without anyone noticing. But twenty-five years later, the tables turned. My son had grown into a street thug, while her son—raised under my care—rose smoothly through life. Young as he was, he had already become a CEO. He was dutiful, bought me a villa, and even sent me traveling around the world. My sister barged into his company, waving a DNA test report, kicking up a scene, only to be thrown out by security. "Mr. Kieran said that even if you are his biological mother, you never gave him a single day of care," they told her. "So he refuses to acknowledge you." Breaking down completely, she drove her car into me and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the very day she switched our babies. This time, my sister clutched her own child tightly, a wild, triumphant grin on her face. "From now on, you can be the mother of a street thug," she sneered. "The villa and all those riches—they're mine!"

Happily married for 2 years, I thought all his grumpiness lately was only temporary. Maybe not the richest man, but he definitely puts his work as his priority, and I want to support him with all I have. I gave all the millions of dollars of my family wealth to him to build up his company, and didn't regret that. I love him. All I wanted was a family with him, a child for me to focus my attention on. But he often says he doesn't want a child before his career is stable. I understand, and I am willing to wait, until last night-- I found out that I had adopted his mistress's child thinking he was mine. On the day of our anniversary, I received a message from an unknown number. It's a picture of him with a woman in bed. And the text reads: he has been mine from the beginning. Three days later when he comes to the house that he shared with me in the past two years for one last time, he sees the divorce paper I left him, together with the necklace he gave the girl who saved him ten years ago! Pain and regret burst out in his chest, but this time he couldn’t find me anywhere. Five years later I came back to Arizona with beautiful quadruplets who have resemblance to the most powerful Alpha King in the world, but there's a problem: he isn't ready to let me go even though he's damaged and causes me nothing but pain.