Trapped In A Soap Opera Novel Novels & Stories

Because whenever she smelled that familiar perfume, for sure another surge of disaster would follow. Zren tightened the grip on her phone as she slowly looked up and averted her gaze at the person who just entered the elevator. The person was none other than the perverted man who stole her first kiss, the one who continuously troubled her and kept giving her endless headaches. Of course, who else could it be? It was none other than, Weidon. Seeing Weidon, Zren hide her phone inside her pocket and took a step back even though she was already leaning on the wall.

Anna pushed Luna's body roughly then turned her knees. "Damn you, Canadia Smith ..." Luna screamed very strongly. ***** This is Canadia Smith's story. 30-year-old woman. "Pretty Savage" was the nickname she earned in her world. A girl with a strong ambition for revenge. An innocent girl who turned into a demon just because of past trauma. This is the story of Canadia Smith, who prefers to be called Miss Anna. The woman who acts becomes dominant and becomes obsessed with her new hobbies after psychiatric rehabilitation.

"Still clinging to that fantasy? He'll never love you, Sofia. You're nothing to him." "The same goes for you, Elianna," I countered, my voice low and steady. "You brought yourself back into Theo's world, thinking he was still the same man you could manipulate. You thought he was still in love with you, that you could play him like a puppet. But he's not, is he? You're just as trapped as I am." The next day dawned cold and gray. My body ached, stiff and sore from a night spent naked and bound. A chill permeated the room, seeping into my bones. I heard the door open, the sound jarring me from a fitful half-sleep.

She stood there rigidly not understanding any of this. Nothing was making sense. This was kidnapping. Nothing more to it. He had kidnapped her and was holding her against her will… This was a crime… Did Sally know? Did they all know? Oh my god… Callie decided to just play nice. If that’s what it was going to take to get him to let her go she would just give in to him. Do what he wanted… Tristan Fortes was holding her captive… Literally holding her captive… She tensed when the water stopped running. Callie refused to face him, she was glad the minute he opened the door and indicated for her to leave the bathroom before him.

What could I say? I closed the door behind us. Sophia was a product of pain. A mirror of what happens when love twists into obsession, and loneliness sharpens into cruelty. But for now, she would remain — alone, sealed, and silenced beneath the weight of her own doing. And above all, this chapter closed. Almost.

Sophia’s apartment was a shoebox above a noisy laundromat in the east end of the city. The walls were thin enough to hear every quarter dropping into the machines downstairs, every argument between the couple who lived next door. She’d moved back in the same day Tristan left her in that motel, still wearing the jeans and T-shirt she’d bought from the gas station across the street because the wedding gown was stuffed in a trash bag at the bottom of her closet like evidence she never wanted to see again.

"Are you sure you can get out of this trap, Arka? The trap you created for yourself long ago." The sentence haunted Arka's mind every time he looked at the woman who was now sitting gracefully on his lap. Amidst the glimmer of crystal lamps and the sheen of a gold dress, his ex-wife, Kania, looked like a queen who had just reclaimed her throne. Arka knew they were no longer bound by a sacred vow. Their divorce was final, signed on stamped paper years ago. Yet, in this private room, with the aroma of whiskey and Kania's challenging gaze, Arka once again became the helpless, foolish man.

That’s why they’ve been hovering around me like Snow White. I belong in a lavish bedroom, not four walls that smell like captivity. My sternum squeezes, almost squashing my heart. Where and how is Mom?! Twenty-four hours since the Yakuza stunt, and nothing’s popped up. The suspense is like a calm before the storm. If Tristan is trying to give me a cardiac arrest—It’s working. Guards patrol behind the bars. Foolish men! They think I want to escape? Fuck no, I want to die. I successfully traumatized Yosef.

I asked, interlacing my fingers that were placed on the bar table. “Yes… of course.” She readjusted her form, placing her hands under her chin. I can tell by the way she looks at me that she's ready to pay keen attention to whatever comes out of my mouth. “Well,” I blew a sigh as I squeezed the bridge of his nose, “Do you ever feel trapped? like having to be caught up in the decision you made of your own will? And it feels like you want to vent and terminate the one who'd set that trap and simultaneously find your way out of the trap.”

"The doctors said not to overwhelm you—" "Please." I grab his hand, this stranger who loves some version of me that no longer exists. "I need to know if you've ever heard of Marcus Henderson. Or Catherine Lewis. Or a little girl named Truth." His expression shifts to genuine alarm. "Sophie, you're scaring me. Those are characters from your book." "My... book?" Jacob reaches for a tablet on the bedside table, tapping the screen before turning it toward me. I stare in disbelief at the cover displayed: "His Forbidden Truth" by Sophia Winters. My name—or some version of it—attached to a fiction that mirrors my reality.