Where Did Siren Head Come From

"No one will ever be able to murder me; they would never dare." Galante, Carmine. I'm quite aware that I'm not a good man. People were terrified and respected when they heard my name, "Lord" Rolly Exruto Guevara. All in the sake of power, I committed dreadful, brutal, heartless, remorseless, violent things. I was the Capo of The Family, an American Italian crime gang. It's the mafia. Many females want to be at the bottom of my ruthless Mafia, but a man must look for his wife, not a woman who looks for her husband. I want to marry a lady or perhaps have children with a woman. It's what the males in my environment did to get more power and become more powerful. The fruits of my power shall inherit the power. That was my first encounter with Lara Sylvio, Clover's lovely and voluptuous secretary. She is going to be mine. I have her. l id never had such strong feelings for anybody or anything as I had for Lara. Her skin and lips made me feel as though there was something missing in this world, and she filled it in. I wanted Lara to the bone, and I'd make her mine for the rest of my life, not just for one night. A mafia is always a Mafia.

When I caught Christian Helmley cheating on me for the tenth time, he dragged his lover over without any hesitation and let me decide her fate. When I caught him cheating for the 28th time, he cried and groveled and begged for my forgiveness. The man went so far as to curse his bloodline for that. By the ninety-eighth time, nothing he did could touch me anymore. I was numb. All I did was crouch beyond the door of his study while he and his lover were going at it like animals. Then it was the last time I caught him cheating. He came back and kissed me right after sleeping with another woman. One day before I left, he barged in with a crying girl in his arms. Christian berated me, accusing me of killing his son. "I can't believe you! You're not the woman I know!" He pressed the tip of a fountain pen against my belly, and I forced my tears back. "I don't want any other woman carrying my children. I only want Jasmine! God, can you stop being possessive for one second? You're practically a hag now, Natasha. Pull this again, and I'll send you to an asylum!" All that elicited from me was a bitter smile. I had no strength left to argue. "Yes, yes, I envy her. She took my husband from me, but I guess I should say goodbye and bless your relationship on the way out now." Then I jumped into the rolling sea right before his eyes. Only one thought remained in my mind. 'That's the last of the love I had for you, Christian.'

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

The classified project I was working on wrapped up ahead of schedule, so I made sure to get back on my daughter's birthday. When I walked in, a girl I had never seen before was wearing my daughter's princess dress, a crown perched on her head. She sat in front of a cake as tall as she was, eyes closed, making a wish. I frowned and stepped closer. "Who are you? Why are you wearing my daughter's dress? Where's Heidi?" Before she could answer, two housemaids rushed out and started yelling at me. "Where the hell did you come from? How dare you talk to our boss's daughter like that? If you know what's good for you, get out! When the boss gets back, you won't like what happens." I stood there, confused. Boss? The boss's daughter? In this house, wasn't it just me and my daughter, Heidi Foster? I barely had time to speak before they shoved me toward the front door. In the middle of the pushing, something caught my eye. Off to the side, chained to a pillar, was Heidi. The girl I used to hold like she was the most precious thing in the world was now sprawled on the ground, digging through a dog bowl for food. A thick iron chain was locked around her neck, and her body was covered in bruises. My vision tightened. "Heidi, what happened to you?" The moment our eyes met, her hollow gaze filled with tears. She shrank back, then let out a soft bark at me, like a frightened dog. The maids looked at her with open disgust. One of them sneered, "Our boss said that that little thing was born to live like a dog. You have to keep her chained up if you want her to behave."

"Aren't you afraid of me?" asked Max, who was still on top of Ivory in his transformed lycan form. "You can run if you want." "Run? I've never been afraid or run away. Let's finish this and see if it proves that what we're doing can free you from the Lycan curse." *** Based on the prophecy from her elder that Max should meet a silver-haired virgin girl, Ivory was the one who could free him from the Lycan curse that made him unable to make love with all women because every time he did, he would turn into a horrible beast. Unfortunately, the curse did not go away even though he and Ivory had made a union that made Max intend to eliminate Ivory. It was only then that Max was indeed a werewolf who would lead the Alsenic Pack, which was passed down from his grandfather. Another thing also found a bright spot, Ivory is a mermaid who is the last descendant of Poseidon and is the target of several races, such as wolves and vampires, for strength, immortality, and power. Being in the captivity of Benjamin, from the vampire race, who treats her like a queen but for the sake of getting satisfaction, Ivory survives and manages to break free and learns the fact that she is pregnant with three babies that are not known whether they belong to Max or Benjamin. But other problems come and go until her first love—Seth—is the cause of Ivory's meek character change into a strong and stubborn woman. . . Dear all readers ... Since I'm an Indonesian language-speaking author, I'll try my best to translate my work and deliver a nice story to you all. Hope you'll enjoy reading and love the story❤️ Happy reading, all❤️ *** Reach me on Discord: Kennie Re #4440

On the night her mate should have accepted her, Aria is rejected and beaten in front of the Eden Pack. She takes flight on a full moon, shifts for the first time in fear and rage, and runs. She falls into another pack’s territory and is thrown into prison as a rogue. Kallos, Jordan’s Alpha, begins to dream of a hand pointing at the captive, telling him she is his Luna. The dreams will not stop. A masked return, a hidden cure, a betrayal that cuts deep, can a broken girl reclaim a throne she never wanted, or will the packs tear Luneria apart? Aria must learn who she is, who to trust, and how to turn her pain into power.

Iris Calloway is engaged to Lucien Blackwood, powerful, ruthless, and everything a future empire demands. A life of luxury, security, and devotion is already written for her. What no one knows is that her heart has already betrayed him. Adrian Blackwood is Lucien’s younger brother just as powerful, just as dangerous, and far more forbidden. He is the one Iris was never meant to want, the one whose quiet intensity ignites a fire she cannot extinguish. Loving him would destroy more than her engagement. It would shatter a dynasty. Adrian wants her too. He just knows better than to claim her. Caught between loyalty and desire, Iris must decide whether to honor the life she promised or surrender to the man who was never meant to be hers. But restraint crumbles, secrets unravel, and when she finds herself entangled with both brothers, the line between choice and ruin disappears. Because some loves demand sacrifice. Others demand destruction. And when desire refuses to choose, everything burns.

Five years into their marriage, Sierra Bell never imagined her own husband would ask her to share him with another woman. "She's important to me. I want you to accept her," were his words. He even made a promise to her. "As long as you agree to this, you'll always be my wife. No one can take your place." She had met him at her lowest point. He married her, cherished her, and indulged her in every way. She always thought that no one could ever love her more than him. But now, she realized that everything was just a colossal joke. - John Henderson never expected the delicate canary he had raised to ask him for a divorce. He didn't stop her. He let her go, sure that she would eventually fail on her own and come back begging. But Sierra, soft in name and stubborn in nature, would never look back no matter how hard or painful the journey. He couldn't help but ask, "Can't you just give in for once?" Later, Sierra finally gave in. Right after that, she vanished from his world completely. John, who had never known fear, suddenly found himself terrified. Much later, she reappeared, arm in arm with another man. John, eyes red, cornered her behind a door, half-crazed. "Sierra, you really are heartless!"

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.