Thirty Thousand

My cousin, John Anderson, always paid me in tens rather than in thousands. He owned a renovation company, and my team and I always worked hard for his projects. However, he only transferred me thirty dollars for sand and concrete that were worth three thousand dollars. Besides that, he only transferred me one thousand five hundred dollars to finance customized doors and windows worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I did not harp on that. Instead, I bore the cost in full, as he was my cousin. That was until his wife, Rory Anderson, scolded me in front of all the workers. “Peter’s a bloodsucker. He never informs us whenever he buys new materials. He must have scammed a lot of money from us! I saw that he got himself a new house and a new car. I bet these are all bought with money he took from us!” John smoked next to us and sighed, “Never mind. He’s family after all.” I was furious when I heard that. I paid more than six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of material fees for him, and he was accusing me of stealing his money? The next client had a mansion and wanted natural marbles worth hundreds of thousands of dollars for his living room floor. John approved the request but only transferred me a thousand dollars to get it sorted out. So, I went to the brick factory located in the countryside and got a truckload of used red bricks from pigpens. Then, I used them for the client’s flooring.

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.

I was the real son of the Lane family, lost and left outside for 27 years. A year after I was brought back, I helped the Lane family’s company break into overseas markets, tripling its annual sales. However, at the end of the year, even the outsourced janitors got a 13th-month bonus, while the fake heir gave me just 250 dollars. “The company made money, sure, but there are expenses everywhere. You’re just a low-level salesperson. All you do is talk. You should be grateful you got that much.” I could not swallow it, so I went to argue with my biological sister, the general manager. She did not even look up. “Clive didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have much education and no core skills. You were never qualified for management bonuses.” My parents did not care either. They were too busy planning which country to take the fake heir to for the holidays. I did not argue or make a scene. I just turned around and called Lane Corporation’s biggest rival. “A salesperson who brought in 30 million dollars in the last year is looking to jump ship. Interested? I don’t have any other demands. I just want to see Lewis Corporation go under as soon as possible!”

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

On Halloween night, an accident struck the haunted house attraction. The children and I were trapped in a pitch-black room, while the staff outside spoke without the slightest urgency. “At this hour, the repair workers have already gone home. If you want them to come back, you’ll have to pay an extra thirty thousand in overtime. “If you’re unwilling, then stay inside for the night.” I begged them to call the repair worker first. We had been in the sealed space for too long, and one boy with heart issues was struggling to breathe. But the staff member only scoffed. “That’s got nothing to do with me. He’s not my kid. Either pay, or sit quietly.” Yet later, outside the emergency room, that same woman knelt on the floor in tears, begging the doctors to save her own child…

Thirty days is long, thirty days is short. It comes and goes in a blink of an eye, again it can wash you over with all the happiness you want. Eva had only Thirty Days. Thirty Days to make her husband fall in love with her. Thirty Days to claim what was rightfully hers, his heart. The question is, Is Thirty Days enough? No?! Then add Sixty Kisses to it! Thirty Days and Sixty Kisses, Eva has her husband on his knees before her. Let's travel through the chapters and unravel her story. Caution: This story contains heavily mature content. Rated 18+

“Thirty minutes for 10 thousand dollars.” That was the deal. Julian Valentino is the “Holy Billionaire,” an ice-cold CEO who views love as a liability. After a brutal Valentine’s Day betrayal, he didn’t just swear off women…. he chose a path of strict celibacy, vowing to keep his body as untouchable as his empire. For years, he has been a saint in a world of sinners, until he is anonymously drugged in his own hotel. With his control now crumbling and his body on fire, he turns to the only woman who can quench the flame: THALIA. Popularly known as "Tee" in elite lounges, she is a high-end sex worker who doesn’t believe in fairytales love and only lives for the bag to fund the search for her lost identity. What she expects to be an easy paycheck turns into a nightmare when a city-wide murder triggers a 48-hour security lockdown. Now trapped with a possessive, drug-fevered billionaire, thirty minutes of service becomes two days of raw heat and secret whispers. But when the doors finally open, Julian doesn't want to let her go. He wants a new deal... a new contract to buy her time and be her exclusive client. And that is when it dawns on Thalia that she has walked into a trap. Behind the closed doors, another contract was waiting. She isn’t just a worker anymore… with the outside contract? She’s now the very weapon sent to destroy the Valentino empire. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

“Marry me? Aren’t you scared of death?”Rumor has it Eliljah Moses is a jinx to everyone close to him, that his ill fate was the reason both his sisters and three fiancees had all died.Sally Summers married him with no expectations, and was ready to embrace death should it come for her.Initially she thought she would have to care for him, but little did she expect to be pampered to the nines by him.In his words, “She’s my woman, only I can bully her.”He also said, “Whoever dares to touch my woman, I’ll be sure to make their lives a living hell.”He even said, “My woman will bear me a pile of children!”