What Makes Guys Fall In Love

In my past life, I walked away from an invitation to the elite Academy just to take the fall for Luca. He held my hand, swearing he’d get me out. Swearing he’d keep me safe for the rest of my life. Instead, I rotted in a cell until I died. While I was bleeding out on the cold floor, Luca was marrying the Don’s daughter, living the high life. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Luca was sixteen again, face pale as a sheet, shoving a bloody gun into my hands. "Elena, you're a lifesaver." I slapped the piece away. "Dream on. I ain't taking the rap for you this time."

After I help my boyfriend register his company and successfully land his first deal, he finally decides to make our relationship public. But his junior from college, who's always had this weird hostility toward me for no reason, beats me to it by sliding into the seat next to him. She leans against my boyfriend's chest, her voice smug and satisfied. "Didn't you say you'd wait until the company officially launched? So why the rush now?" My boyfriend says nothing. Instead, he hands her a share certificate and announces to the entire room that she's the company's largest shareholder. The room explodes. Everyone starts whistling and cheering them on. The junior takes the opportunity to kick me while I'm down, throwing insults my way. My boyfriend doesn't just fail to stop her. He actually joins in with his own snide remarks. "Sure, you helped me set up the company and brought in our first client, but she's the one who can actually take us somewhere." I don't get angry. I graciously acknowledge the junior's new position. I want to see how far they would get without me, their biggest asset and most valuable connection.

She looked at her with contempt, her red heels clicking on the ground. A sinister smile is plastered on her face full of malice. "Whatever you do, he's mine. Even if you go back in time, he's always be mine." Then the man beside the woman with red heels, snaked his hands on her waist. "You'll never be my partner. You're a trash!" The pair walked out of that dark alley and left her coughing blood. At the last seconds of her life, her lifeless eyes closed. *** Jade angrily looked at the last page of the book. She believed that everyone deserves to be happy. She heard her mother calling for her to eat but reading is her first priority. And so, until she felt dizzy reading, she fell asleep. *** Words she can't comprehend rang in her ears. She's now the 'Heather' in the book. [No, I won't change the story. I'll just watch on the sidelines.] This is what she believed not until... "Stop slandering Heather unless you want to lose your necks." That was the beginning of her new life as a character. Cover Illustration: JEIJANDEE (follow her on IG with the same username) Release Schedule: Every Saturday NOTE: This work is undergoing major editing (grammar and stuffs) and hopefully will be finished this month, so expect changes. Thank you~!

I was only ten years old when Timoteo Panno found me on the streets of Sirithi. He's the Don of the Panno family, the strongest mafia family in the country. He's also the one who taught me how to protect myself. When I turn 18 years old, I become his lover as well as the weapon he's most proud of. Timoteo isn't interested in other women. I'm the only one staying by his side for many years. We've been with each other for four years. Everyone thinks I'll eventually become the Madre of the Panno family. That is, until Nadia Bellucci accidentally kills her fiance and desperately needs a clean identity to wash herself of all suspicions. As she clutches her chest that houses her heart, which is now weakened from the time she has saved Timoteo's life, she whines coquettishly, "Timoteo, I don't want to go to prison…" With a smile on his face, Timoteo doesn't hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat to take the blame for Nadia. "You've always been a pawn who gets abandoned all the time, so you might as well do it one more time."

We all have an inspiration to live. We all have that one person who keeps us from fighting and moving. That someone who keeps our heart beating. That someone who keeps on giving us a blissful morning. But what if one morning while laying in the dark, the person you loved the most is the person you can't remember anymore? Fall Navarez never thought that this day would come. Never did he think of losing the memories of that someone in his head. Later did he realize, he came up with a question: "Who's Grace?" There's a lot of variations in their testimonies. Some have scarlet threads attached. Some had loose strings which means a dead end. Fall Navarez didn't know what story he had to believe. He wanted to believe them all, but every person he asked, died the day after. "Grace is your girlfriend, Fall." "Hell no! Grace is your wife." "That would be gross, but I only know was that Grace is your sister." "Oh my God, you really don't know, do you? Grace is your f*ckin' psychologist!" Why would Fall had a psychologist, assuming that Grace is indeed one? "You're hell-bent, Fall! You're crazy!" "Who's Grace?! Answer now or I'll f*cking kill you!" He smirked. "As you did to your mother?" he held his tongue and spit saliva at Fall. "Hell yeah! YOU KILLED YOUR F*CKING MOTHER!" Maybe there's someone who's deceiving. Maybe someone had asked them to deceive Fall! But wait, where was the lie? To the you-killed-Grace part or the Grace-is-your-mother part? Hmm, did Grace really fall from grace? "Put the gun in your mouth. . . pull the trigger." FALL FROM GRACE by ANONYGLITCH

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

"It's the third time this week that I'm donating my blood to this strange lady that you never seem to take your eyes off of, even with me in the room!" Emily had paused very strand of fear she had for Liam as she yelled tearfully. Liam was her husband but the four years of their marriage were like four decades of unending torture and misery. She was completely in love with him but Liam detested her in turn, he married her only to inherit the family's multi-billion dollar business and once he's gotten that, tossed her away. Emily, despite living under his shadows for several years, believed that he would one day learn to love her as his wife but her hopes were shattered when Liam repeatedly demanded for her blood for his sick mistress. She could handle being maltreated but not cheated on, and drained of blood to the point of death. Emily demanded for divorce and he happily granted her wish but unknown to him, she was pregnant which was an outcome of a drunk night. ** No parents, no home, no money, Emily hoped for death but was miraculously rescued by a stranger. She returns to the country a few years later with her child who is the direct copy of Liam. "Boss, your ex-wife is back, and she seems to be married with a child who looks exactly like you," "They are both mine, and I will fight for what's mine!"

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.