Time Travelling Machine

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

He kept her captive time and time again. He gave her enough freedom to protect her in the name of love. She only felt that he was a tyrant, always in charge of her life, her studies, her business, and had to take his punishment every time she made a mistake, which always made her arse hurt for days. She went from trying everything she could to build up her strength to escape, to trying so hard to stay and stay by his side. She couldn't stay away from him anymore.

My newlywed husband wants to kill me. He's backing me to the balcony with a knife in his hand. The blade pierces my heart, and he shoves me off a 20-story building. At the same time, I see the tear streaks on his face. He says, "Long time no see, my perfect lover."

Patrick and Clare wake up trapped in a basement, a thin wall separating their cells. Their captor is mysteriously absent, which at first seems like a blessing. As more time passes with no food or water, they begin to realize a clock is ticking for their survival.They know their captor is still out there, and it is only a matter of time before he returns.©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

The night before our 17th wedding attempt, my mafia husband, Rafaeal Holloway, looks at me and promises an uninterrupted wedding. He solemnly swears. "Gianna, I promise you. I told Natalia that even if the sky falls, she'll deal with it alone." I am five months pregnant by then. After three years of dating and five months carrying his child, we've never managed to make it down the aisle because he's canceled the past 16 weddings. Every single time, it's for his sworn sister, Natalia Sullivan. The first time, she claims she has a fever. I spend the whole night at the hospital, still in my wedding dress, just to find out she has a mild cold. The second time, she claims her chest hurts. Rafael abandons me mid-wedding and rushes to her side, while she's out laughing over afternoon tea with friends. The third time, she cries for fear of thunder. He bolts mid-vows and leaves me alone in a hall full of staring guests. But everything's different now. Three days ago, a letter arrived from Northern Silenzio. My father, the Don of the Rossetti family, has finally summoned me home. If Rafael walks away for Natalia one more time, I'll leave for good.

For three years, we held a wedding in name only—my husband, Kit Rutgers, a pilot, canceled our marriage registration eighteen times. The first time, his female trainee, Katy Ferguson, had a test flight. I waited outside the county clerk’s office the whole day. The second time, he got a call from her mid-drive, made a sharp U-turn, and left me standing on the side of the road. After that, every time we planned to make it official, some crisis with Katy mysteriously arose. Eventually, I chose to walk away. But the moment I boarded a plane to Solara, he lost his mind—and chased me there.

Three years ago, Olivia Cruz made the biggest mistake of her life, getting married to this man. Even though marriage was not built on love, she was hoping her love would change him one day, and who knows, he would reciprocate the feelings. After years of suffering from one-sided love, she only got pain, hatred, heartbreak, pregnancy, which was the only thing she could hold on to, and finally, her doom, death. Olivia regretted her actions, living for her husband all these years got her nothing, she wished she could be given another chance. Another chance to make things right. This time, she wasn't going to be that naive girl, this time, she was going to live for herself alone and be selfish with her happiness. All hope was lost on her end, however, she was given a chance at come back again, but this time, not as that girl that was used by her husband. She was going to get her revenge this time, and that was something she solely set her mind on...

Tamara is an educated and independent lady who returns in new York after a long time to test the waters and she also wishes the stars could align into her favour this time around only to collide with an arrogant bachelor billionaire who is now on the quest to find and punish her.They later fall in love and get married.

After secretly registering our marriage, my lawyer husband, Benedict White, proposed holding a public wedding ceremony every time he gained favor with his lover, Anna Lester. Over three years, Benedict asked me thirty-three times and broke thirty-three promises. The first time, Anna’s dog died. He said we had to mourn for three months to honor it. I stood in a wedding dress and apologized endlessly to the friends and relatives seated below the stage. The second time, Anna had menstrual pain. He turned around on the way and went to care for her. After that, every ceremony he promised came with a new problem from Anna. I cried. I protested. Yet Benedict always said, “She's just a friend with benefits. You’re my wife. Don’t be so petty about it.” After the thirty-third time, I finally grew tired. I slid a divorce agreement across the table in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents. It was my fifth wedding. The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off. First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough. Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out. Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside. Fourth time? Same story. I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars? Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time? This year, I was trying again. Wedding number five. This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man. I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them. But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.