Voodoo Hair Growth Oil Novels & Stories

For three years, Jared never touched Lucia. But late at night, he'd sneak off and get off to a photo of Alice—her so-called sister. Lucia didn't find out until she saw his phone by accident. That's when it hit her—he only married her for revenge. She was the real heiress, swapped at birth. But when she came back, everyone acted like she'd stolen Alice's life. Crushed, Lucia walked away. Back to her true family. What she didn't expect? Jared losing his mind, tearing through the world trying to find her.

Lilith POV A pair of cold, bloodshot eyes stare back at me; if eyes could , I'm sure I would be dead by now. No wonder this place looks so familiar; it is because it's the mansion belonging to my owner, the man I was sold to, "Don Air." My orb fell on Flora, who was kneeling on the floor. Her hair was messy, and I could see bruises from her shoulder down to her arms, making me wonder what happened to her. "I gave you a to do, and you messed it up, huh?" The cold voice of Don Air was forwarded to Flora. He stomped his feet on her body continuously, and her screams and cries filled the atmosphere, bringing nothing but horror. "Master, please! Oh, please!" She cried in pain as she continued to get hit; her body was somersaulting on the floor. I look around the large sitting room, wondering why nobody is helping by stopping this cruel master or even pleading on her behalf, but I see few with pitiful expressions. My gaze met the man known as Thierry, the man's son. For awhile, I forgot he even existed. I got a sharp glare from him, and I looked away. "Please?  "If you are sorry, then you will not think of ruining my business, you good for nothing harlot," he yelled at Flora before leaving the girl. "You!"  His voice thurd in my ear, and I cringe in fear as goosebump from fear clouded my body. He was walking towards me with such a dominating and dangerous demeanor. "Argh!"  I was pulled by my hair and flung to the wall barely. I felt a liquid running down my head down to my nose—it's blood!

Ethan Shaw had died. Before the funeral, his wife, Stella Walker, packed his belongings and found a thick photo album. [My True Love] On the cover, it said— She opened it. The photos inside were not of her. They were Rachel Chester—the girl Ethan had adopted years ago. Not only that, Ethan left all his wealth to her. Stella died with hate in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before she married Ethan. This time, she chose to live for herself and walked away from Ethan to pursue her own dream. What she did not expect was that, in this life, Ethan went mad looking for her when she left. He searched for her everywhere.

A deal between families forced my Fiancé Marco Corvini to marry me. My parents were dead. His obsession was Isabella Falcone, the princess of our rivals. In the end, Marco devoured my family’s empire and threw me to the wolves. He paraded Isabella on his arm like a prize he’d won. Twenty years later, I was on my deathbed. My own son—our son—held the poison. He said I was useless, that his father needed the Falcone family’s power. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day of my blood oath. This time, to save my family, I didn’t sign my name on the pact. I signed hers. Isabella Falcone’s. As for me? I took the fortune my parents left me and disappeared. This time, I wouldn’t be the fool bleeding for a man who was never mine.

My older sister Seraphina had always been the center of attention in New York's Upper East Side. Everyone worshiped her, protected her. At the Montgomery charity gala, my father asked we to choose our future husband in front of every powerful family in New York. Seraphina smiled and generously let me choose first. But this time, I said no. In my past life, I truly thought she cared about me. I followed her suggestion and married Declan Thorne, a man whose immune system had failed after a car crash. He had been confined to a wheelchair for years, and people whispered that he was worthless. I surrendered my place in the family and became his nurse, his support, the only thing keeping him from complete loneliness. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never reach his heart. Then, at Seraphina’s gender reveal party, Declan stood up from his wheelchair in front of everyone. "Brielle,I felt nothing for you. You were just a way for me to get closer to Sera." The silence lasted only a second before the room turned on me. Every whisper, every stare, every hidden laugh made me feel like the biggest fool in New York. That night, I rushed out of the party and drove away before anyone could see me break down. On the bridge, my hands shook so badly that the car spun out of control and crashed through the railing. I made ninety-nine calls before the river swallowed the car completely, and every single one went unanswered. Three days later, they found me trapped beneath the water, already suffocated in the wreckage. Then I opened my eyes, and I was back at the gala where my father had planned to announce our engagements. This time, I picked no one.

The General Assembly, Recalling its relevant resolutions regarding the question of Palestine, Recalling also its relevant resolutions on the protection of civilians, including resolution 71/144 of 13 December 2016 on the status of the Protocols Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and relating to the protection of victims of armed conflicts, resolution 72/131 of 11 December 2017 on the safety and security of humanitarian personnel and protection of United Nations personnel and resolution 72/175 of 19 December 2017 on the safety of journalists and the issue of impunity, Recalling further the relevant reports of the Secretary-General, including the most recent report, of 14 May 2018, on the protection of civilians in armed conflict, Recalling all relevant resolutions of the Security Council, including, inter alia, resolutions 242 (1967) of 22 November 1967, 338 (1973) of 22 October 1973, 605 (1987) of 22 December 1987, 904 (1994) of 18 March 1994, 1397 (2002) of 12 March 2002, 1515 (2003) of 19 November 2003, 1544 (2004) of 19 May 2004, 1850 (2008) of 16 December 2008, 1860 (2009) of 8 January 2009 and 2334 (2016) of 23 December 2016,

Being bullied when she was younger by her peers because of the color of her hair, Claire haven't known any parent figure in her life as she spent her entire childhood in the orphanage with broken dreams and hidden scars. What's worse was when she escaped from the orphanage only to be caught by the most viscous rogues and she was used as their slave. Not being able to take the pain and suffering any longer, she took a bold leap of courage running away from the pack. But as fate would have it, she stumbled into the house of a mysterious man who made her belief of how the world works into jeopardy. What happens when she finally gives her trust to the man only to have her work as a servant for the cruelest Alpha? How did the Alpha react when he finds out he's mated to Claire who is not only a witch but the one to fulfill the prophesy?

I chase after Dean Wagner for five years while Graham Ashford chases after me for seven. When Dean marries Emily Caldwell, I finally say yes to being Graham's girlfriend. Graham is over the moon. He treats me like I'm everything to him, like he'd do whatever it takes just to make me happy. But Graham doesn't believe in marriage. Even when our daughter turns four, he still hasn't married me. He won't even let her call him "Dad". One night, I overhear him joking around with his buddies. "Your daughter's already four. You still aren't bringing your wife and kid home to meet your parents?" Graham taps his knuckles on the table and laughs. "You know why I got with Nora and had a kid with her. I just want to make Emily jealous. "Nora's easy to fool. She won't ever leave me, even if I never bring her or the kid home." He thinks he has me all figured out, but he doesn't. I turn and leave without a word, then plan to leave him for good. A man like that doesn't deserve my love. And he sure as well doesn't deserve to be my daughter's father.

When the village chief delivered the items for my wedding, my fiancé's adopted sister, who was the apple of his eye, suddenly burst into tears. She cut my wedding dress and smashed the wardrobe that my older brother made for me. Every time I was about to lose my temper, my fiancé, who was also my childhood sweetheart, would immediately side with her. He claimed that she was still young and did not understand jealousy; she was just insecure. Even my own brother defended her, saying I had a birth brother who doted on me. It would not hurt to give in to her. When an earthquake happened, they both ran to her and protected her tightly beneath their bodies. Meanwhile, I was trapped under the ruins for three days and three nights. My brother and fiancé tried every possible way to cheer up her, leaving the villagers to rescue me instead. When they looked at me with wounds all over my body, they only said, "Don't overthink it. Jenn is timid and frightened. We couldn't leave her alone." I was on bed rest for a month, but not once did I see them. Only the village chief came to see me. He tried to persuade me, saying, "You're the first college student in our village. Are you really going to give up on your studies just to get married? This—" I interrupted him, "I made my decision before you came. I'll report to the college on time!"

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.