Travis Sally Face Novels & Stories

Sometimes kissing the Beast does not turn it into a Prince Charming — instead, he is a fascinating mogul you want topunch.Jules is an ordinary nineteen- span- old omega from a impeccably respectable family. He ’s not the most beautiful, or the smartest, or the strongest of the four Blake siblings. And he ’s fine with it, really. He is n’t unhandsome or anything, but by omega morals, he ’s nothing special. Jane is an ordinary nineteen- span- old omega from a impeccably respectable family. He ’s not the most beautiful, or the smartest, or the strongest of the four Blake ’s. And he ’s fine with it, really. He is n’t unhandsome or anything, but by omega morals, he ’s nothing special. “ Nothing special ” describes Jane ’s whole life. It ’s considerably boring. So when strange paraphernalia start doing in their house, it piques Jane ’s curiosity. There ’s a beast in the Blake family manor; Jane is sure of it. He sometimes hears growls and screams coming from the basement, and the men guarding the door look favorably scared. What could scarify grown mornings? Jules will have to probe! But his probation comes withsurprises.like the Beast's disarming effect on jane's omega nature. It does not mean anything. Of course it doesn't. Jules is just curious; that is all. Curiosity can change a life, but when you are attracted to a feral morning whose real face you have n’t yeaseen.will it change for the better? What if the Beast is no Prince Charming but a cold-hearted, misanthropic bastard? A bastard Jane should not want — but does. A bastard jane should stay out from — but can't

I had special luck that would cause others to lose their money. If anyone tried to scam my money from me, they would suffer financial loss. When I was in elementary school, a female classmate stole five dollars from me to buy a snack. The next day, her father suffered a fifty-thousand-dollar loss in his business deal. When I was in high school, my homeroom teacher withheld my prize money. The next day, his wife got into a pyramid scheme, and he lost his house because of it. After I started working, I encountered my extremely snobbish boss, Fiona Anderson. I submitted a claim for five thousand dollars, which I had paid in advance for a company event. However, she refused to approve the claim for three months. As for the rich intern who drove a luxury car, she would immediately approve his claims with a huge smile on her face, even though he would submit fake receipts. I urgently needed to pay my credit card bill, so I went to talk to her. Fiona pointed at me and snorted. “Poor men like you always try to covet the company’s money! “How dare you ask me for money? You must be out of your mind!”

As I was about to leave my brother’s restaurant, the female manager stopped me. "Miss, excuse me, but you haven’t paid your bill." I looked at the unfamiliar face and thought that she was probably new and didn’t recognize me, so I explained politely, "Just put it on the owner’s tab. He knows me." The manager shot me a disdainful look. "Miss, this is a Michelin three-star restaurant. We don’t let just anyone run up a tab." She handed me a printed bill. I glanced at it. Fifty thousand dollars for one meal. Three thousand for tableware maintenance, five thousand for exclusive air purification, ten thousand for a VIP mood-calming service fee, and a bunch of other ridiculous charges. I didn’t even know my brother’s place was such a scam. I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. "I’m the owner’s sister. If there’s a problem, tell him to talk to me at home." But she just wouldn’t drop it. "If you can’t afford it, stop acting like you can. And don’t act like you know Mr. White, either." I fired off a quick text to my secretary. 【Tell my brother to either fire this manager or I’m pulling my investment.】

Late that night, I was scrolling through social media when my finger slipped, and I liked a rant that said, "No women would like to date Aries men." A few minutes later, Rachel Lewis, my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, flooded my private messages. [Stop trying to get Marcus's attention with these pathetic little tricks.] [You already broke up.] [A decent ex stays dead.] [You're damaging Marcus's reputation.] [I'll give you one chance to delete it.] [Otherwise, you'll face the consequences.] I laughed. I had broken up with Marcus Gibson, my Aries ex-boyfriend, three years ago. [I dumped that piece of trash out three years ago. I don't care if you picked him up and started treating him like a treasure, but stop acting like someone's trying to steal him from you every day.] That pushed Rachel completely over the edge. She sent me an Excel spreadsheet right away. [Fine. Since you're so over him, pay back every cent Marcus spent on you while you were dating. Otherwise, that proves you still want him.] I looked at the bill. Eighty-seven cups of coffee, eighteen movie tickets, that sad bouquet of roses he bought me for Valentine's Day, and even the chamomile tea he bought me when I was having my period... [The total is 4,300 dollars. If you don't transfer the money within three days, I'll make sure the whole internet knows who you are.] I stared at it, stunned. Then, I ignored the madwoman. The next day, my social media exploded.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

My cousin, Leroy Huff, is bringing his new girlfriend, Jodie Collins, home for the first time ever. At the dining table, everyone chats with each other animatedly. Suddenly, Jodie stares at my face intensely before pretending to be shocked. "Have I seen you before, Isabelle? You're a member of a high-class escort group, aren't you? I've seen your price list on the group chat's photo album before. I think… you were charging only 200 dollars per night, right?" After she's done speaking, she pretends to cover her mouth while looking all pure and innocent. All noise and chatter fade away instantly. My relatives turn to look at me in disdain. "She looks so prim and proper at first glance, but to think that she's actually involved in such business…" "You bring nothing but shame to the Huff family! Don't ever tell anyone else that you know us!" Enraged, my dad smashes his wine glass. Meanwhile, my mom just wipes her tears away quietly. But I dab my mouth with a napkin slowly before shooting Jodie a half-smile. "It's normal for you to think of me as familiar-looking. After all, I'm a member of the vice squad. Last month, I just arrested you after a stakeout."

“To escape a monster, she ran straight into the arms of a devil.” Lila Vance was a debt payment. Wrapped in fifty thousand dollars of French lace, she was minutes away from marrying Marcus Thorne—a man who whispered that she was nothing more than his "property." But Lila refused to be broken. With a ripped dress and a heart full of terror, she bolts from the altar and into the private elevator of the Grand Imperial Hotel. When the doors open, she finds herself in the lion’s den: the penthouse of Adrian Sterling, her fiancé’s most lethal rival. Adrian is a man carved from shadows and sin, a billionaire "Shark" who destroys legacies for sport. When Marcus comes to claim his prize, Adrian offers Lila a choice: go back to the man who will break you, or sign a one-year marriage contract with the man who will own you. As the line between their fake vows and real desire begins to blur, Lila must face a terrifying truth: Adrian Sterling didn't save her out of mercy. He saved her because she is the final piece in a game of revenge he’s been playing for years. In a game of power, who will be the first to break?

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé’s female best friend, Marisol Vance, sent me a set of photos. In the photos, she wore the custom haute couture wedding gown I had commissioned, leaning into Lucian Drake’s arms, with a caption meant to provoke me: [Borrowing your groom and your dress for a moment—after all, Lucian said I look better in this than you do.] Soon after, my social feed was flooded with their so-called wedding photos. In the images, the two of them staged a mock kiss, the caption reading: [More than friends, not quite lovers. If we had been born ten years earlier, there would have been no place for anyone else.] I held up the photos and confronted Lucian, yet he played his game indifferently, then tossed his phone aside, his face full of impatience. “I told you, it was just for fun—a way to commemorate our youth. Can you stop acting like a shrew? She was just diagnosed with depression. What’s wrong with me comforting her?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I smiled. “Fine. Since your bond is so unbreakable, I won’t play the villain.” That very night, I drafted a withdrawal agreement and halted the arrangements I had been making with a top-tier overseas medical team for his mother. “The wedding is off. Don’t expect me to keep patching up your bankrupt company, and don’t expect me to save your mother either. “Your youth is precious—I hope you can afford to pay the price to keep it so.”

Drenched in mud, I've just climbed down the scaffolding and started munching on a cold piece of stale bread when a luxury car speeds past me, effectively drenching me in muddy water. The car window on the driver's side is quickly lowered. A sleazy guy hurls a pack of cigarettes in my face the next moment. "Hey, peasant! This is a reward for you! I got really lucky today, after all!" While I pick up the cigarette pack silently, the man happens to be boasting loudly to the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. "My brother-in-law really is an idiot! He seriously thinks that my sister has a terminal disease! He went to the black market last night night just to sell his blood in exchange for 200 thousand dollars' worth of surgical fees! I end up winning double in the casino with that money of his! "My sister told me that once that idiot gets his hands on the work injury compensation, she'll divorce him right away and buy me a new home!" I grip the bread so hard that it crumples in my hand. After all, my wife, Estella Wilson, was just diagnosed with "late-stage stomach cancer" yesterday. Suddenly, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. It's a voice message from Estella. "Hubby, it hurts so much going through the chemotherapy! The doctor told me that I'd be eligible for better medication if we could cough up another 200 thousand dollars. Can you please plead to the foreman and borrow some money from him?"

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!