What Did Yandev Do Novels & Stories

Sometimes, you can have the right love at the wrong time. For Dash, love can wait but for Cassy it should be something that they should be fighting for. Two young souls crossed path but fated played at them. What could happen to their shattered hearts? Would they still believe in love when it gone all wrong?

News of a wedding in Nordica's top power family lit up the world. But at the rehearsal, I caught my fiancée, Ivette Bianchi, making out with her childhood sweetheart, Jerick Weiner. "Babe, we've been in love forever. Let me use your first-time blood as pigment for my art?" Ivette blushed, hesitated— Jerick didn't wait. He pinned her to the wall and kissed her. "My best piece needs that color," he whispered. "I want this painting to end our youth." I watched them twisted together, ice-cold. Dropped the ring. It clattered across the floor. "Go through with the ceremony," I said. "Or your family goes broke." She stiffened, shoved Jerick off, and spat, "Fine." Then she turned right back, grabbed his hand, and dragged him inside. "It's just a bachelorette party. I won't miss the rehearsal." The door slammed. I didn't react. I was done. I made the call. "Change the bride. And yeah—the Bianchis crossed the line first. I want them erased."

On the seventh day of freshman orientation, I ran into the cafeteria like I was running the hundred-meter dash, desperate to get my favorite grilled sausage. Instead, I crashed straight into my childhood friend's embrace. The idiot was shirtless, and his huge pecs smacked me right in the face and the impact knocked me onto my butt. In the seconds I lost, the grilled sausage was almost gone. I almost fell apart. Seven days, and I had only managed to eat them once. My childhood friend waved a plate of grilled sausages in my face, then spat on it. "Yup, no. Not giving you any." Furious, I slapped his hand away. "Stay away from me. I get dizzy around big pecs." My childhood friend instantly lost it. "I'm still better than that useless fiance of yours!"

I was in San Aria Bay with my mom, enjoying a quiet, sunlit getaway, when my phone suddenly lit up with a string of messages from my husband's ever-arrogant secretary. She sent a photo. The woman in it had been stripped naked, her body covered in blood, the sight almost unbearable. A voice message followed, her tone dripping with disdain. "Jeannie, do people like you always take advantage of others like this? "Mr. Smith just bought this house, and you already had your mother move in for free? As his chief secretary, it's my responsibility to remove anyone living off him."

An app had been making the rounds online lately—one that let you text your future self. Right before the final paper of the SATs, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and fired off a message: [Future me, do I end up marrying Liam Tinsley?] The screen flickered, and a reply from an "Unknown Number" popped up almost instantly: [Yes. You had a big, grand wedding.] I clutched my phone and typed back fast: [And Mia Thompson was my maid of honor, right? She's my best friend!] The response came just as quickly: [She was. But she wasn't just the maid of honor, she slept with Liam on your wedding night.] My smile froze mid-expression. Then a second message hit: [Truth is, you didn't need to go through all that trouble tanking your scores just to match his. He bombed the math section on purpose—so he could end up in the same city as Mia, who was at the bottom of the class.] [He pushed you to turn down that top-tier university—not for your sake, but because he didn't want Mia to feel inferior next to your grades.] The pre-exam warning bell cut through the air. But I was frozen, my body ice-cold, unable to move. One last message slammed into my screen: [If you don't believe me, head straight to the motel behind the school after the test. You'll see the truth for yourself.]

David Bianchi - King of the underworld. Cold, calculating, cruel. A man equally efficient with closing business deals with his gun, as he was his favorite pen—a living nightmare to subordinates and enemies alike. However, even a formidable man like himself wasn't without secrets. The difference? His was packaged in the form of a tall, dazzling, mysterious beauty who never occupied the same space as the mafia king.

* "Marry Me! Stranger." I shout for the whole hall to hear and I pull him in for a deep kiss to the loud gasp of my supposed adopted parents at their first daughter's wedding. What is she doing?! Master cannot be kissed by just anybody! He'll have allergic reactions almost killing him! But what is he doing? He's holding her waist and pulling her further and kissing her back! * Samantha Stiles, denied of her marriage to her long time lover and boyfriend by a well planned and executed scheme by her mother and sister who claims to the world she is adopted, but a fact which remains unknown whether it's a lie or truth. Claude Whyte, a mega trillionaire who recently came to New York to attend an acquaintances wedding but a series of events which include a nightstand and a public proposal is making him stay back. For someone who can't kiss or touch just anybody, he seems quite comfortable with that cheeky woman kissing him in the public.

I was the kind of girl everyone called hopelessly lovestruck. That day was no different from any other. I clung to my boyfriend’s arm, leaned in close, and shamelessly asked for a kiss like I always did. However, right before my lips touched his, a line of glowing comments drifted across my vision. They floated in the air like a livestream chat. [Can this side character wake up already? Can she not see the male lead avoided her the entire time? He hated clingy relationships like this.] [The kind of person who really suits him is the female lead. Someone gentle, patient, and understanding.] [Once the real female lead shows up, this annoying clingy girlfriend is definitely getting dumped.] My body froze. I slowly loosened my arms from around his neck. In the next second, he suddenly looked up at me. “Why’d you stop?”

I was the prime suspect in the notorious murder of my parents-in-law in Cardinal City. The one who arrested me was my wife—Linda Reese, the police chief. While the verdict was still pending, the killer struck again. The new victim was murdered with the same savage cruelty. Linda knelt before me, begging me to tell her the truth. I told her I didn’t know. The victims’ families screamed, demanding that I be carved into pieces. Three months later, Linda found me beside a garbage bin, bringing with her a memory-decoding device. Her hands trembled as she pressed two thin needles into my temples. “I’m sorry, Finn. I know you’re not the killer. I just want this slaughter to end. I don’t want anyone else to die. Let everyone see your memories—let them see what really happened back then.” But when she finished watching my memories, she collapsed to the ground, utterly broken, and fell to her knees.

Everyone in the upper echelons of society knows that Lewis Alvarez has someone he cherishes like a priceless treasure. He allows her to spend money like it was nothing, flies into a rage at the slightest insult to her, and would willingly sacrifice his life for her. However, those same people also know that Lewis was married to someone else. She’s a mute woman who might as well doesn’t exist. She was only a fragile flower that relied on Lewis to survive.At least, that’s what Lewis thinks of his wife, Josephine Vance. That is until the day she hands him a divorce agreement. That’s what breaks his cool aloofness.