Was Bumblebee Created To Kill Primes Novels & Stories

I'm born with a curse, so I never speak another word since I'm old enough to be understanding. Since my six-year-old daughter, Jada Westfield, accidentally knocks over my sick older brother, Cain Westfield, my wife, Serena Harlow, sends her to a dog-training facility immediately. Jada has gotten bitten by dogs in the past, so she's extremely terrified of them. I do everything I can to stop Serena from sending Jada there—even resorting to groveling in front of her, my forehead sticky with blood—yet Serena never spares a glance in my direction. Instead, she helps Cain up to his feet and gently pats the dust off his pants. But the moment she speaks up, her voice is glacial and ruthless. "Don't think I can't tell that Jada did this because you've been secretly grooming her to do so. You're an extremely manipulative mute, after all. Your dirty blood courses through Jada's veins as well. If I don't start teaching her a lesson at an early age, she will eventually grow up as a pathetic loser. "I'm sending her to the facility so that she can learn the rules of this world. She will learn that seniority takes precedence over everything. This also serves as a lesson for you to never harm the person you aren't supposed to engage with!" I finally find Jada, who has gotten trapped in a cage filled with a dozen rabid mutts. Her body has already been torn into pieces. I suppress the pain in my heart as I put pieces of Jada together like a jigsaw puzzle. After more than 20 years, I finally utter my first sentence. "Serena Harlow, I want you to pay the price with your blood, and I want you to lose everything you have in life."

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.

On the day of my wedding gown fitting, a stranger burst into the VIP suite and stabbed me with a knife. “You think you deserve a dress this expensive after stealing someone else’s man?” She tore at the delicate fabric of my skirt. Then, with a twisted smile, she hurled a bottle of acid at me. The blade was buried in my lower abdomen. The pain drove me to my knees. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. “Gerald’s my husband! What are you? You’re nothing but a mistress who can’t even be seen with him in public!” Blood dripped down my fingers. That was when it finally sank in. The man I had been with for seven years had been keeping another woman by his side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you, with my husband’s influence, no one will dare touch me!” Staring at her smug face, I pulled out my phone with hands slicked in blood and called my brother. “Matt…” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Come pick me up at the bridal shop. And please inform the Hoover family that the engagement is off.”

On the day I was supposed to try on wedding dresses with Charles Jaspier, the mafia leader I had loved for seven years, I walked into the boutique carrying a pregnancy test report—my heart full of hope. Instead, I overheard a conversation that shattered everything. "Registering the marriage with Ellis Olsen was a temporary measure," he said calmly to his closest confidant. "My brother died in a shootout. She's carrying the Jaspier family's only heir. Without a legal status, neither she nor the child would survive in this family." "Everyone would bully them." A cigar rested between his fingers. His voice was cold, edged with resignation. "Zoey Qandor can't have a title—but I can give her everything else. My love. My money. This must never reach her ears." I clenched the pregnancy report, my heart turning to ash. With my best friend's help, I created a new identity—one that ensured Charles would never find me again—and disappeared from his world. If he could not give me and my child a complete family, then this love—built on responsibility and lies—was better cut cleanly, once and for all.

She fell for him under the guise of love, in return he watched her die with no knowledge of life blooming in her…a piece of him. But she doesn't stay dead and returns a different person, an ancient incarnate now filled with spite and a deathly need for revenge. “Where is my child, Kael?” Demands from a cursed man with a grieving heart will fix nothing compared to the cost her resurrection had come with. Because there's a lot more beneath rising from six inches under…

When the results were released, my stepbrother, Dylan Anderson, conspired with our class teacher and accused me of cheating. When they presented the two examination papers with the exact steps written out, I was rendered speechless. My biological parents forced me to admit that I cheated to protect Dylan’s reputation. Then, they forcefully sent me to a mental asylum. To cover up the scandal, the Anderson family told everyone that I had gone insane. They left me to suffer alone. I finally escaped, but died tragically in a car accident facilitated by Dylan. When I died, I finally learned that the phrase “blood was thicker than water” held no truth. It was no match to Dylan’s lies. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the past. I was in the examination hall again. I handed in four blank examination papers. I wanted to see how they could accuse me of cheating if I scored zero on all papers.

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

"Doctor, hurry up and examine me." Inside the consultation room, a stunning woman was laying face down on the bed. She raised her hips toward me and asked me to examine her condition, but I wasn't a doctor. Just as I was about to refuse, she pulled down her pants to reveal her fair, smooth back. Who could possibly resist that?

Tiffany's soul hovered overhead. She watched them rip her heart out—still dripping—and stuff it into a cooler. Destination? Velmont City, Dalvona. For the same girl who'd sold her to traffickers in Nyamara. Outside the OR, Hector stood there, eyes all soft. His assistant called. "Mr. Coxon, we've located Ms. Talwyn. Want me to send someone?" Hector didn't blink. "Don't bother. A girl like that deserves to die." The surgical light flipped green. A doctor strolled out. "Congrats, Mr. Coxon. Surgery went smooth. Ms. Pusey and the baby are doing great!" Hector started crying happy tears. This was the man she had loved for ten years.

In Evergreen Pack, turning 18 means awakening, shifting into wolf form, and being marked by your mate. But on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, my older brothers and my fiance bring back a gravely injured Omega from the border. They place her in my room, and my eldest brother, Corey Newman, personally put the moonstone pendant my parents left me around her neck. My fiance, Zachary Russell, who's supposed to mark me, instead takes the Omega, Nora Gates, by the hand. He looks at me coldly and hisses, "I refuse to be your mate." The pain is too much for my wolf and me. Yet, my other brother, Wesley Newman, only says, "Stop making a scene or get out." I realize then that they were no longer my family. So, I decide to exile myself and throw myself into ten years of closed research in Central City. They think I'm just throwing a tantrum, and they even take Nora to see the aurora in Everfrost, something I've always longed to do. When they finally realize that I'm never coming back, they fall to their knees at my feet, begging me like lunatics to return.