Tom Holland Glasses

Faye Netanya Charlotte Vander, wanita berparas cantik berumur 23 tahun. Dia anak tunggal dari pasangan suami-istri yang menikah karena keegoisan orang tua, Ayahnya bernama Holland Vander dan Ibunya bernama Charlotte Abigail Vander. Kedua orang tuanya menjalin pernikahan dan hubungan rumah tangga karna keterpaksaan demi mempertahankan hak waris masing-masing. Faye tumbuh menjadi sosok yang kekurangan kasih sayang kedua orang tua. Banyak kepahitan yang dilalui seorang Faye, kedua orang tuanya bercerai, Ibunya meninggal dunia, kekasih nya berselingkuh, dan hidupnya semakin abu-abu dengan kehadiran Farasy dan Davina, Ibu tiri dan suadari tiri Faye. Mereka semakin membuat Faye kehilangan selera untuk bertahan hidup ditengah gempuran semesta mengirimkan kesedihan yang bertubi-tubi. Syukurnya dia memiliki dua orang sahabat yang selalu ada untuknya bernama Feronica dan Natasya. Setelah banyaknya coba yang dilalui seorang Faye, semesta kirimkan kepada nya seorang laki-laki yang datang memberi warna di kanvas kosong kehidupan Faye. Laki-laki itu bernama Arche Rasalas Arshaka, Arche dikenal sebagai laki-laki yang tidak pernah serius dengan wanita, bahkan dia tidak pernah memiliki keinginan menjalin hubungan. Namun di matanya sosok Faye berbeda, dengan segala upaya yang dia miliki Arche berusaha sekuat mungkin meluluhkan hati Faye yang benar-benar sudah mati rasa akan cinta, karna sepanjang perjalanan hidupnya, hanya sakit yang dia rasakan. Ayahnya cinta pertama seorang anak perempuan justru meninggalkan luka yang membekas untuknya, dan William, laki-laki yang dia anggap rumah berkhianat kepadanya, semua itu cukup membuatnya tidak percaya lagi dengan cinta. Akankah Arche berhasil mendapatkan hati seorang Faye? Bagaimana perjalanan cerita mereka? Silahkan mengambil posisi senyaman mungkin, aku persilahkan kalian untuk masuk melalui pintu mana saja yang kalian inginkan untuk mengikuti perjalanan hidup seorang Faye. Akan kalian temukan cerita tentang cinta, persahabatan dan keluarga dalam cerita ini.

Lo primero que hice al regresar a la gala para elegir esposa fue intercambiar en secreto mi tarjeta numerada de candidata por la de mi hermana adoptiva. Cuando Fernando Romero tomó el ramo con el número de Lucía Benítez, se le desbordó la alegría en los ojos. Le sostuvo la mano y, solemne, le juró una vida entera. —Lucía, serás la única mujer de mi vida. Luego se volvió hacia mí y, de golpe, se le heló la mirada. —Siempre te vi como a una hermana. No intentes ocupar el lugar de Lucía. Aquel aviso frío me atravesó el pecho. Las habladurías me devoraron otra vez, igual que en mi vida pasada. Todos se burlaban de mí, la “arrastrada” de Fernando. Diez años detrás de él con el corazón en la mano… y el hombre terminó enamorado de la supuesta heredera, mi hermana adoptiva.

El día de nuestra boda, Leonardo Sánchez me juró que me amaría para toda la vida. Siete años después, hizo que otra mujer quedara embarazada y hasta la instaló en una mansión de maternidad que había preparado con esmero. Cuando lo descubrí, el vientre de ella ya estaba abultado, a punto de dar a luz. Él apenas se sobresaltó un instante, pero enseguida la protegió detrás de su espalda. —Camila, tú siempre tuviste miedo de ser madre. Con este hijo, la familia Sánchez tendrá un heredero y tú ya no tendrás que sufrir. —Seguiremos igual que antes, nada va a cambiar. Yo sostenía en mis manos el examen de embarazo recién confirmado y, entre lágrimas, solté una sonrisa rota. El día en que Valeria dio a luz, yo me sometí a un aborto, dejé el acuerdo de divorcio y tomé un avión rumbo a un país lejano.

Estuve cinco años casada con el heredero de la familia Romano, la más poderosa del crimen organizado en Italia. Cada noche, me abrazaba y susurraba: —Solo dame un heredero, y le daré todo el imperio Romano. Pero nunca quedé embarazada, y la decepción del jefe de la mafia hacia mí crecía con cada mes que pasaba. Hasta que descubrí que mi esposo había estado cambiando a escondidas mi ácido fólico por pastillas anticonceptivas. Aún me tambaleaba por la furia cuando vi una publicación de su exnovia: una foto de ultrasonido. Su mensaje era dulce y presumido: —Diez semanas. Vincent dice que no puede esperar para conocer al bebé. Al ver la avalancha de felicitaciones, tomé una decisión. Busqué los datos de contacto de mi exnovio, aquel que había pasado los últimos cinco años intentando recuperarme, y le envié un solo mensaje: "Dame un mes. Luego voy contigo."

Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free—Enzo lets him go. When someone else tries to take what’s already his, Enzo doesn’t hesitate. He drags Tate back, and now the boy wears his name, carries his ring, and sleeps in his bed. Maybe Tate should hate him. But he doesn’t. Because he never wanted gentle. He never wanted safe. He wanted this—blinding, consuming desire. And Enzo? He doesn’t let go. Not when he’s tasted him. Marked him. Owned him. Because monsters like him don’t share. Not even with their own blood.

On the anniversary of our Mating, my legs were wrapped around my Alpha, Adrian, as we shared a deep kiss. My fingertips brushed against the hidden pocket of my silk dress, my hand tightening around the pregnancy test I had concealed there. I felt the faint flutter of a new life inside me, planning to give him this surprise as the perfect end to our evening. Just then, Adrian's Beta, Ethan, spoke in a low, teasing tone, using the Old Tongue. "Alpha, that little sister-in-law of yours… the newly matured she-wolf, Zoe. How did she taste?" Adrian's low, suggestive chuckle reached my ears, quiet yet piercingly clear. He replied in the same ancient language. "You know a freshly ripened pepper? Hot, with a real kick." His palm was still caressing my waist, yet his gaze had drifted elsewhere. "Just keep it quiet. If my Luna finds out, it's all over." The other Betas let out knowing chuckles, raising their glasses in a silent promise to keep his secret. But a chill washed over me, and my inner wolf went still, as if it had died. He didn't know I had studied the Old Tongue for my research on werewolf trauma. I understood every word. I held back my tears, forcing myself to appear unfazed, maintaining the composure expected of a Luna. Instead of confronting him, I sent a magically shielded message to Elder Slone of the Werewolf Healers' Association, accepting the invitation she had extended to me. In three days, I would join a secure werewolf rehabilitation program as their new Lead Therapist and disappear from Adrian's world forever.

El día de mi boda con Julián Gutiérrez, la hija adoptiva de la familia, Lucía Gutiérrez, intentó lanzarse por la ventana para quitarse la vida. Por ella, Julián me abandonó con el vestido de novia puesto y huyó de la boda sin mirar atrás. Frente a la mirada burlona de todos los invitados, levanté la barbilla y declaré en voz alta: —¡Hoy, quien suba al altar conmigo será mi marido! Tres años después, Julián regresó a la mansión Gutiérrez con Lucía. Yo estaba recostada en un sofá de cuero, saboreando una sopa nutritiva mientras veía mi serie favorita. Julián fijó la mirada en mi vientre abultado y, rechinando los dientes, me escupió: —¿De quién es ese bastardo que llevas en el vientre? Tomé otra sopa nutritiva y sonreí con calma: —Es sangre Gutiérrez, sin duda.

Mi hermana menor, Sophie Sawyer, quedó embarazada antes del matrimonio, dio a luz a un niño en una pequeña clínica y luego desapareció. El doctor usó la dirección que ella dejó para encontrar a mi familia y me entregó al niño. Mis padres se arrodillaron y me suplicaron que lo criara, y así fue como yo, una mujer soltera, luché por salir adelante cargando a un niño. Cuando finalmente logré criarlo, Sophie regresó, parada junto a un jefe importante, cubierto de oro. Ella tomó a su hijo y lloró, acusándome de estar celosa de ella, de robarle a su hijo y de separarlos. Mi sobrino cortó lazos conmigo sin dudarlo, eligiéndola a ella por encima de mí. Mis padres me echaron de la casa. Los vecinos me condenaron. Desesperada, salté a mi muerte. Cuando volví a abrir los ojos, estaba de regreso en el día en que Sophie dio a luz.

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick her up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian puts his arm around Amanda and swirls the wine glass he's holding. He shoots me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waits for me to go berserk the way I used to three years before, but I simply move the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda pauses. Her eyes start to redden. She stares fixedly at me and questions, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"