Villa Kaliurang Private Pool

I'm a private photographer. Many female college students come to me to get their portraits shot. In return, they choose to offer me their supple bodies. One day, I receive an order to take wedding photos of a couple. However, that night, the bride insists on having me sleep with her… Could it be that her husband can't even afford to pay me for my services?

After being reborn, I didn't stop my Alpha mate, Caden, from bringing home his childhood friend—Lilith. She was carrying a pup, and he wanted to take care of her. I didn't fight it. I broke the mate bond myself. Handed him exactly what he wanted. Set up every private moment between them. Then slipped out of their story. Because in my past life, even as I lay dying, Caden hated me for not letting Lilith stay with us while she was with pup. She lost it on the way out. Couldn't carry again. And Caden? He said once I was gone, he'd make it right. Be with her. Protect her. So this time, I let him. Gave them everything. Gave them everything they wanted. So why did Caden lose his mind searching the world for me—begging me to come back?

All her life, Ashiera Nicola only wanted 1 thing. That is to give revenge for her sister's death, she wants justice for her sister Vanessa who was abused by a prince. She lived on her own and lost contact with her father, who sacrificed her sister's justice for a name. She's a princess who owns luxury hotels and some private beach resorts and by the age of 25, she will be married to a prince, Khai Balderik Kristofell. A prince who will be the reason for her to take revenge in a nice and clean way. Warning: There may be some chapters with R18.

After receiving the report for an STD test, I went back to the barbeque restaurant, and there I ran into a young woman who was about three months pregnant. She asked me to let her cut in line, and, feeling sorry for her, I agreed to help her out. I quickly made arrangements for her and made sure she had a seat. But to my shock, after she finished her meal, she had a miscarriage. The girl posted about the incident online, and before I knew it, I was trending on social media, facing a wave of cyberbullying. The internet users went even further, digging up my health records and finding that everything came back positive. [She's positive for everything—she's clearly a woman with a messy private life!] [No wonder she caused the woman's miscarriage just by being near her—she's a biological hazard!] The cyberbullying got so bad that it pushed me into depression. Even my fiancé turned against me, accusing me of being filthy and breaking up with me. The emotional weight became too much, and in my pain, I drove straight into a reservoir. Meanwhile, the girl gained millions of followers online and skyrocketed to fame as a popular influencer. It was only after I died that I learned the shocking truth—this girl was my fiancé's first love. To boost her own popularity, she and my fiancé had come up with this entire scheme together. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when she asked me to let her cut in line.

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira." "You know he never liked her," she added quietly. In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression. She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart. It wasn't love that brought them a child—it was a night of drunken confusion. He'd pushed her onto the bed, dazed and careless, and Kira came from that. Afterward, he gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. His only condition was simple: the child must never call him father. Publicly, Graham remained a single man. "I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope. "I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. That child doesn't exist to me."

Six years have passed since Dr. Hansen, Joseph, Karen and David escaped from the United States and took refuge in Argentina, where they lead a quiet life away from the memory of the violent events in New York. Peace of mind that will no longer be such, since in that city, an important businessman contacts the now private detectives Mark Forney and Doris Ventura with a very specific request: to locate Dr. Hansen and Joseph, under the pretext of protecting the latter and have reliable information that a recognized terrorist group will carry out a violent attack if the clone child of Jesus is not delivered to them to sacrifice him live before the world. Suspicious, they will accept the order without knowing that after that request a dangerous conspiracy is brewing that will put them in the middle of a conflict on a global scale, with the governments of the United States, Israel, Iran, the Vatican (with the first black Pope in its history) and others, and a very powerful secret brotherhood fighting to have the clone boy under their power. Conspiracy that little by little will reveal the dark interests of world domination by those involved in the conflict. Second book of the trilogy, where the author skillfully handles the birth and evolution of the conspiracy around the clone boy, now eleven years old, who is more aware of his origin and of his role in the world, but without being able to avoid that by his cause occurs terrible acts of violence against humanity, as part of that conspiracy.

Madam Pratt, my mother-in-law, was in critical condition after a car accident, desperately needing surgery. However, as the lead surgeon, I—Lilianne Davis—stood by, casually scrolling through short videos on my phone. My best friend, Tiffany Owens, who was also a doctor, was far more anxious than I was. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the operating room. “Lily, why are you still stalling? Hurry up and save her!” I took a step back, clutching my stomach in pain as her face twisted in shock. “I have cramps so bad I can’t even stand. You do it.” In my last life, the moment I heard about Madam Pratt’s accident, I had swallowed a painkiller and rushed into surgery, working for hours to stabilize her. I had barely stepped away from the operating table when alarms blared. “Lilianne, what have you done? The patient is experiencing acute hemolysis!” “Call the family now!” Gareth Pratt stormed in, his face twisted with rage. He slapped me hard in the face. “Lil, you’re a professional surgeon, yet you gave my mother the wrong blood transfusion?!” I froze, reaching for Madam Pratt’s medical report to explain, only to find that the A-type blood I had seen before had somehow changed to B-type. The medical board arrived, and a blood test revealed traces of hallucinogens in my system. “Unbelievable! Taking illegal substances before surgery? That’s a cardinal sin for a doctor!” In the chaos, Emma Pratt, Gareth’s teenage sister, grabbed a scalpel and stabbed me multiple times. Blood gushed from my arteries, and I collapsed in a pool of crimson. As my vision faded, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I had never taken illegal drugs. Besides, I was absolutely certain of Madam Pratt’s blood type. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before stepping into the operating room.

I kept it hidden from the entire Moonshadow Pack — the private mate contract I signed with Darren, the current Alpha. Every time he rushed off to spend the heat season with his Omega childhood sweetheart, the wolf inside me howled in agony, tearing itself apart. Every time, he would whisper his empty promises, "Once she's stable, we'll hold the Luna crowning ceremony." For three years, he made that promise ninety-nine times — and skipped the ceremony ninety-nine times. The first time, her wolf died unexpectedly, and he claimed the Moon Goddess had forbidden the ceremony. The second time, her heat struck suddenly, and he abandoned me, throwing himself into her bed. After that, every time there was supposed to be a ceremony, something happened to her — and somehow, he was always right there by her side. Every time, I broke down, screaming, drowning in heartbreak. However, he always looked down on me, his voice calm, detached: "She's just a temporary mate for physical needs. You should understand." After the ninety-ninth broken promise, the wolf inside me finally went silent. I placed a "Mate Contract Termination Application" on his desk. "From now on, in the eyes of the Moon Goddess, I'm no longer yours in any way."

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

The day I signed my organ donation papers, my family was gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, holding a cake they'd baked themselves to celebrate the start of her first clinical trial. I have terminal brain cancer, and my stepsister, Hailey, had stolen my husband Zane's medical credentials. She'd blackmailed a member of his staff to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one spot in an experimental treatment that could have saved my life. The pain became too much. I swallowed a handful of painkillers, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I signed away the publishing rights to my novels, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane handed me the divorce papers and I signed without a moment's hesitation, he sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. Even when I offered Hailey the seaside villa and all my assets, their expressions softened into something like relief. "Don't worry," my brother soothed, gesturing toward Hailey. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave them everything they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?