Walker Scobell Birthday Novels & Stories

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

I had just been discharged from surgery for a collapsed lung when my boyfriend took me to a childhood friend’s birthday party. At the party, he yanked off my ventilator and used it to inflate party balloons. My chest seized violently, as if my lung had been torn open. Justin Miller turned to Sophie Shaw proudly and said, “See? This is so much easier than blowing them up with your mouth.” I gripped the doorframe. I was gasping as my vision blurred. “Justin, I need that to survive! I can’t breathe!” His expression darkened. “Sophie was kind enough to invite you to her birthday party. Know your place! Besides, she put in a lot of effort for this day and spent hours preparing for it. Are you really going to ruin the celebration?” I struggled to speak through the pain. “Is her surprise more important than my life?” I extended a trembling hand toward the ventilator, but Justin waved it aside. He said impatiently, “I already checked. You won’t die from holding your breath for just a moment. Don’t be so selfish!” At that moment, pain stabbed me in the chest, and I used every ounce of my strength to press the emergency call button my brother had given me.

I spent four years pretending to be obedient by West Graham’s side. Four years ago, after the video of Nina Avery running over my younger sister was exposed, my boyfriend, Jake Smith, hired a top-tier defense attorney for her to clear her name. When I was completely alone, with no one to rely on, it was Nina’s stepbrother, West, who stepped forward and chose justice over blood. He found a lawyer for me and gathered witness testimonies and physical evidence everywhere he could. In the end, he personally sent Nina to prison. When everything finally settled, West proposed to me, and I said yes. However, in the fourth year of our marriage, I saw an email in West’s inbox. It was a birthday message from Nina, and attached was a selfie of her smiling brightly at the beach. In the bottom-right corner of the photo was yesterday’s date. [Happy birthday, West! It’s been four years since I received Erin’s sister’s heart. There haven’t been any complications at all. Thanks to you and Jake, I’m given a second chance in life.] West replied. [To make you happy, I’ll do anything.] After reading all of it, I smiled brighter than ever. It’s been four years, and their time to die has finally come.

Three years into my marriage with Dominick, Gia, his stepsister, sent me a video clip out of nowhere. I tapped on the video, only to find Dominick tying his stepsister to the bedpost with the tie I had given him. His stepsister lay naked under him, addressing him intimately. After getting their freak on, they shared an embrace, and Gia cozied up against Dominick and uttered, “I don’t like the ring you bought me. Give it to Luna, and tell her it’s a birthday gift from me.” The next day, I sat in an upscale restaurant and stared at the vacant seat across the table. Suddenly, the Underboss wheeled a massive cake toward me. “Don Costa was called away on urgent business. He sent me to deliver your birthday gift.” The box contained his stepsister’s discarded reject. My phone buzzed with new pictures from Gia. Dominick was at the hospital with Gia for a check-up. Without a fuss, I signed the divorce papers and made preparations for a wedding. “Donna Costa, whose names should I put down as the bride and groom?” “Dominick and Gia.” A week from now, I would show the world the kind of filth the supposed solemn Don had been rolling in with his stepsister.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

"Jace,stop."I murmured in between his lips. "It has always been you, muffin."He held my hand as I struggled to push him away. "Go away,you don't even believe in love,so why now?."I looked at his eyes which were full of sincerity. "You changed my perspective on things,I love you,infact,I'm in love with you and I can't help it,muffin."He confessed. Michelle Adigheji is a beautiful naive teenager who has a secret crush on her brother's bestfriend who's a player although she doesn't believe in love because it's dangerous as it was evident in her parent's marriage,she keeps falling deeply. Jace Walker,the typical badboy and player who got girls wrapped around his fingers,his heart is as cold as ice as he can't be vulnerable or fall for any girl but then he starts feeling something, something which could be dangerous for his bestfriend's sister. What happens when she gets hurt several times but can't still stop loving him because she's caught in his web? What happens when he finally gets vulnerable but his past haunts their relationship? Find out in this amazing Nigerian teen love story.

"You're not the type of girl I'd usually kiss," he says, his eyes fixed on my lips. "But I'll do it anyway." Then the cocky jerk leans in and kisses me. *** He claims to like her, she claims she'd never be stupid enough to trust a bad boy with her heart. *** After the death of her best friend, Ava Jordan Hansen's main goal is to get through senior year without losing her mind. She badly wants a distraction from her dark thoughts...but is tutoring the school's bad boy the solution? Jude Walker's life has never been easy--not since he made a mistake that turned his family against him. His father cut him off at 18, and to support himself, he took up underground fighting, modelling--whatever puts a buck in his pocket. He needs a university scholarship and to fix his Math grade, he finds himself thrown together with a smartass good girl. The two seem so different at a glance--the nerdy girl with a smart mouth and the troublesome bad boy with a different girl pressed against his locker every week. But they both have their own trauma, fighting not to drown in their pain. Will they help each other survive, or will they drag each other deeper under the surface?

Ten years ago, the Harrington family went through a home invasion. My mother, a maid, shielded Liam with her life. Holding my hands tight, Liam promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever." I believed him. Our bond grew naturally, and we had a beautiful daughter together. Then, she was diagnosed with leukemia. In her last days, all she wanted was to spend one birthday with her dad. I called him, desperate to make it happen. "Millie doesn't have much time left. All she wants is one birthday with you. Can you come?" His voice on the other end went icy. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting." I tried to deny it, but he cut me off. "Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart." That night, our daughter passed away. Later, Vivian posted on social media: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just texted Liam: [We're done.]

My daughter accidentally scratched my husband's young mistress's face with her nails. For that, my husband had her fingers chopped off. Covered in blood, she came home seeking help, only to be assaulted by an intruder. I called my husband, crying, but his mistress's sweet voice answered the phone. "Stop using these lowly tricks to get Jack's attention. All you're doing is making him sick!" I begged my husband to take my call, but all I got in return was a barrage of insults. "Nothing is more important than Yvonne's face! I'm busy taking her to the hospital! I don't have time for your drama!" Later, my daughter's organs were removed by the intruder. Even in death, she was still tightly holding onto the birthday gift she had prepared for her father. My husband, a top lawyer, personally defended the criminal who assaulted our daughter. He let that man walk away scot-free after what he had done. On the day he celebrated his birthday with all our relatives, he finally knew that our daughter had died. He completely lost his mind.

On my fiftieth birthday, my grandson pouted when he saw the present I had given him and complained, “Grandma Cecil at the Emerald Manor has a cooler present for me. It was a Transformer toy that flies.” I was confused by this remark. Emerald Manor was one of the wedding gifts offered when I got married. My husband was not fond of this place because it was too far away from the city, so I have rarely been here as well, and it has been vacant ever since. As we stood outside the manor, I could hear the cheery voices coming from inside the house. My husband and my adopted son were inside celebrating the birthday of the owner of the manor. The Grandma Cecil my grandson referred to was the childhood sweetheart of my husband, Cecil Houston, who was married off far away a long time ago. She remained as beautiful as she once was and was snuggled in my husband’s arms, surrounded by my children. I have dedicated myself to the Blightwells for two decades. This entire time, Cade has taken my commitment as nothing but a joke. When I was reincarnated, I found myself on the wedding day. I listened to the clamoring noises and lifted the veil to see the commotion. It was time to start over.