When Was Titanic Released

"Asawa niya ako, pero hindi kailanman minahal." Sa loob ng isang taon, tiniis ni Anessa ang malamig na pagtrato ni Bart Divinagracia—ang CEO na asawa niyang itinuring siyang wala. Isang kasal na itinali ng obligasyon, hindi ng pag-ibig. Isang pusong tahimik na nasasaktan, umaasang mamahalin din siya balang araw. Pero hanggang kailan siya maghihintay? Nang siya’y tuluyang iwan, doon lang napagtanto ni Bart ang halaga ng babaing dati’y hindi niya pinansin. Ngayon, handa siyang bawiin ang pusong sinayang niya—pero may babalikan pa ba kaya siya? O huli na ang lahat?

My mother hated me, to the point that she wished I were dead. I knew I deserved to die. Sixteen years ago, if I hadn’t insisted on going out, my brother wouldn’t have died while trying to save me. Eventually, both of us got what we wished for. I got brain cancer. She had become a stranger to me as I forgot everything and went to die in blissful ignorance. Then, she went mad.

I have the same due date as Roxanne Coleman, the childhood sweetheart of my Alpha Mate, Sebastian Graham. However, her pup has been diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. That means it will never be as strong as a normal pup and may not even survive its first shift. Even the healers advise her not to give birth. Just as I begin to pity Roxanne, Sebastian makes a request that shatters me. He asks me to give our pup to her. "Roxanne's pack is harsh on her. They demand she bear a powerful heir," he explains patiently. "If they find out her pup is born with a heart defect, they'll kill her. "Please, I beg you. Save her. Let her take our pup." I stare at Sebastian in disbelief. "Are you saying we should trade our healthy pup for her defective one?" Seeing how resistant I am, he doesn't answer. In fact, he doesn't need to. … A month later, during a prenatal checkup, Sebastian secretly switches my medical report with Roxanne's. I can't believe he truly plans to steal my pup for her. At that moment, I broke down completely. So, I sever our mate bond and leave with our unborn pup. While Sebastian frantically searches for me, I accept the Temple of the Moon's invitation and become the only one who can speak to the Moon Goddess and deliver her oracles. And my pup will be the next Chosen One. From that day on, Sebastian is nothing to me.

Despite being the Alpha Damien's mate on paper for the last seven years, Astrid knew that she could never come close to Taylor, her step-sister, and fated mate. Sadly, Taylor had been sickly from birth despite the Beta blood that ran in her veins. In order to strengthen the power of the Beta family her father pressured her into an arranged marriage with Alpha Damien, acting as a replacement for her step sister. Nearly a decade passed and Astrid continue to show undying devotion and loyalty to Alpha Damian yet he continued to treat her coldly. Taylor's already poor health worsened and the only thing that could save her was an immediate kidney transplant. Damien got down on his knees, shedding tears for the first time since she met him and promised Astrid that he'd forget all about Taylor if Astrid donated one of her kidneys for the life saving surgery. Astrid agreed to this but Damian did not keep his own part of the bargain, rather he framed her for infidelity once Taylor had recovered, rejecting Astrid and making her an object of ridicule. She fakes her death and disappears then returns with a with the deadly Alpha King by her side, thirsty for revenge.

When I became the blood bank for my mate Alpha Kane’s sweetheart, my wolf died from the endless loss of blood—and so did I, alone, in the cold den he rented to keep me out of sight. Today marks the third day since my death, and finally, my six-year-old pup noticed something was wrong. His finger bled when a toy hurt him, but I didn’t come to comfort him. When he tried to feed me his favorite food, I didn’t stop him either. He lay on my chest, gripping my clothes and whispering my name—but I didn’t respond. Desperate and helpless, my pup picked up my cellphone and called his alpha dad. “Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?” Kane didn’t answer. Instead, he sent him a photo of himself and Serena—his sweetheart—celebrating Full Moon Day, smirking. “Don’t worry. Your mom is just sleeping, not dead. You know I’m quite busy on Full Moon Day. Tell your arrogant and stubborn mom not to come find me until she admits her fault.” The call ended, leaving my pup frozen in silence. However, three days later, Kane received news of my death. He let out a gut-wrenching growl, refusing to believe it was true. Clutching my cold, lifeless body in his arms, he wept bitterly. “Kate… you are my only Luna,” he cried. “Come back. Stay with me… please.”

After my daughter, Mia Powell, was declared brain-dead, my husband, Liam Powell, urged me to sign the organ donation consent form. I was drowning in grief and my mind was on the verge of collapse. That was when I accidentally discovered that her attending doctor, Blair Lincoln, was Liam’s old flame. They had lied about Mia’s brain death, just to trick me into signing the form and steal her heart to save Blair’s daughter, Sophia. I watched as Liam picked Sophia up from the hospital. The three of them smiled together, like a perfect, happy family. When I confronted them, they pushed me off a building, and I died from the fall. Given a second chance, I had returned to the day I was supposed to sign the organ donation form. As I stared at Mia lying in that hospital bed, I silently vowed. This time, that scumbag and that wretch would pay with their lives for what they did to Mia.

The day I received my medical report and found out I was pregnant, my husband—Alpha Scott Hansen—held a small wedding ceremony in the hospital garden with his first love and former mate, Gillian Boyd. He explained, “Her final wish in this life was to be my bride.” But what about me? What was I to him? A replacement? It finally hit me—ten years of unwavering devotion and sacrifice meant nothing compared to a single tear shed by his first love.

During a fight with my husband, he shoved me. My stomach bumped into the couch’s armrest. Just then, his childhood friend called him, sobbing. “Caleb, hurry, come to Cloudpeak Hotel and save me! My boss got me drunk, and now he’s forcing me to serve our client…” I nearly blacked out from the twisting pain in my stomach. I begged him to take me to the hospital. However, my husband said, “There’s a life at stake here! Can you not be so cruel?” He left, slamming the door behind him. I had no choice but to call for an ambulance. That night, he spent the night with his childhood friend, while I lay in the operating theater, undergoing emergency surgery. Good news, Caleb Gordon! You'd never have children again! Weren’t you glad? You deserved it!

It was about time because my dad got a new girlfriend and said he wanted us to have a meal together to introduce the new woman into our lives. On the day we met, my college roommate saw my chat background, which had a photo of me and my dad, along with a series of transfer records. She lost her mind. She enlisted the support of our other roommates, who rarely paid me any attention and began to attack me, insisting that I was a side chick who deserved to die. I did not expect that my roommate would soon become my stepmom. Before I could explain, she accused me of trying to seduce my dad behind her back, shouting, "Shameless side chick! Going behind my back to seduce my boyfriend! All those times you said you were out studying?! Who knows if you were just meeting up with him?" I was once physically assaulted, stripped of my dignity, and forced to the restaurant for a public confrontation wearing ragged clothes. Then my dad came running to where I was hardly breathing and barely moving on the floor, bruised to the extreme. “Sweetheart, who did this to you?!”

Femme is most often a term used to describe a lesbian who exhibits a feminine identity. It is sometimes used by feminine gay men, bisexuals, and transgender individuals.The word femme itself comes from French and means 'woman'. Heavily associated with lesbian history and culture, femme has been used among lesbians to distinguish traditionally feminine lesbians from their butch (i.e. masculine) lesbian counterparts and partners.[a] Derived from American lesbian communities following World War II when women joined the work force, the identity became a characteristic of the working class lesbian bar culture of the 1940s–1950s. By the 1990s, the term femme had additionally been adopted by bisexual women.