Unsent Messages Project

It's been three years since I went against my family to be with my boyfriend, Marvin Stuart. At last, my parents have finally agreed to let me marry him. I rush back to our place at once, eager to share the news with him—only to end up overhearing his conversation with his childhood friend, Camellia Hough. "They're redeveloping the area where my family home is, and we're going to get a huge buyout payment! You can finally abandon that loser and officially be with me now," she declares. "You wouldn't have had to settle for being with her if my family hadn't gone bankrupt back then." Marvin agrees to it right away. "I'll lie to her, saying that my family is in debt, so that she'll break up with me. Let's get married right after that." I swallow down the words I'd been prepared to say and calmly enter the house. Marvin turns to me with a sorrowful expression. "My family owes a debt of five million dollars. I don't want you to have to suffer with me. Let's break up." I nod. "Sure." Soon after, I sent my parents a text. "You don't need to transfer the three buildings to Marvin anymore. Also, call off the redevelopment project on the south side of the city." Since Marvin wants to break up with me, I'll grant him his wish. As it stands, we've always been from two different worlds.

Year three of hiding who I was and dating Jenny Knapp, my parents finally said yes to the marriage. I rushed home, ready to tell her—then froze outside the door. Jenny was inside with Nolan Cruz, her childhood friend. "My neighborhood's about to get redeveloped. Big payout. You can finally dump that loser and be with me. If my family hadn't gone broke, you wouldn't have settled for him." No pause. "I'll tell him my family's drowning in debt so we can break up. Then I'll register the marriage with you right away." The words on my tongue died. I pushed the door open. She turned to me, face tight. "My family owes $500,000. I don't want to drag you down. Let's break up." "Sure." I pulled out my phone and texted my dad. [Dad, don't transfer those three buildings to Jenny. Cancel the South Borevia redevelopment project.] If she thought we were worlds apart, I'd show her exactly where I stood.

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

A teenage girl searching for something she never knew about found herself beside her grandparents and there she heard about the love story of her grannies and parents which makes her wonder about hers. And then after, she found out that the guy who calls her by a color nickname was actually in love with her since their childhood. She found a box of unsent letters from their childhood days which says,

The apartment that I bought four years ago isn't renovated or lived in at all. Yet, I suddenly receive messages on unpaid water and electricity bills. Puzzled by the sudden barrage of messages, I return to that particular apartment to check things out. That's when I realize that a stranger has been living in my apartment this whole time!

This novel is about a girl who is constantly receiving messages about forewarned crimes or killings in places she goes. She did not believe it the first until she witnessed a murder happened in front of her and gone as nothing happened. One day a killer appeared and murdered her whole family as the messages stated then a mysterious man appeared in front of her and vanished together with the corpse.

I hated the heroine. Now I am her. When nineteen-year-old Ashley slips in the bathroom and dies with popcorn in her hair and a love letter unsent, she wakes up inside the worst romance novel she’s ever read as Arianna Salvatore, the pathetic, weepy female lead she couldn’t stand. The catch? Everyone thinks she faked a suicide attempt to win back Damian, her cruel, emotionally unavailable husband. And her sister? She’s gunning for him next. Ashley wants out. But the book has other plans and if she’s going to survive this twisted love triangle, she’ll have to rewrite the story herself. Goodbye, tragic heroine. Hello, chaos.

I give up on my position as a higher-up in a listed company just so I can accompany my wife, Jennifer Hurley, to a rural area to carry out a cultural tourism project. I even help her secure subsidies from the government and transform that project into a state-recognized exemplary project. But the first thing Jennifer does right after becoming the main person in charge of the project is force me to quit. "I want to tender an application for this project to be recognized nationally. Unfortunately, as the main person in charge, my spouse isn't allowed to take on any roles in the business aspect. "Either you quit your job or get divorced. You should make your choice." I don't hesitate to quit my job on the spot. But after that, Jennifer has her assistant, Maurice Gould, take over my position immediately. Her reasoning is, "Young people know more about coming up with creative ways to promote cultural projects. Our project needs new blood." At the afterparty, Jennifer raises her wine glass and gives a grand speech on the project's success. It turns out that I'm the only one who gets kicked out after everything I've done.

I worked tirelessly to secure a major project with the design institute, but my husband fabricated lies out of nowhere, claiming I was dragging the company down. He handed the credit for my work to his first love. Instead of getting angry, I laughed and gave my position as the company's Design Director to his precious first love too. "Working on projects all the time is exhausting. Why don't I just make you the company's Design Director instead?" Every single colleague thought I'd lost my mind, but nobody knew the project could only succeed because of my unique design style and my connections. Without me, the project would not just fail. The entire company would collapse.

During the year-end review, Shirley Johnson, Chris Kennedy’s childhood friend, said she wanted to take over as the project lead so she could get promoted to deputy general manager. For the sake of the company, I turned her down. Shirley, furious, quit on the spot and went to get married. Under my lead, the project brought in billions, and the company went public in one leap. Later, I married Chris. During our honeymoon, I was kidnapped and dragged into an underground compound in Morandia. I was about to call for help when I heard Chris say, "Do whatever you want with this vile woman." I desperately demanded to know why. Chris kicked me in the stomach. "If you hadn’t forced your way into the project lead position back then, Shirley wouldn’t have been pushed into that marriage! She wouldn’t have been abused to death. You owe her." When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Shirley demanded to be the project lead.