Which Got House Am I Novels & Stories

When Mom and Dad went broke—$30K in debt—they let collectors sell me to Nyamara, a lawless border strip full of trafficking, forced labor, and private prisons. I slept in flooded cells. Ate rotten food. Tried to run. They smashed both my legs with iron rods. I dragged myself home—and walked in on them planning Nina's sweet eighteen. Dad flicked his hand and dropped $3 million on a top-tier jewelry set for her. Mom smiled, then mentioned me. "I heard Talia cries every day, begging to come home. When do we tell her the truth and bring her back?" Dad shook his head, smug. "What's the rush? This is her gift. Let her tough it out one more month. Otherwise, how's she supposed to inherit our billions?" I tightened my grip on the medical report—severe infection in both legs. Mom. Dad. I don't even have a month left.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

One day, I received a call from the property management. They politely advised me that even if it was a wedding, there was no need to make such a ruckus all night long, disturbing the neighbors. They said they were caught in the middle, and it was hard for them to deal with it. I replied, "You must be mistaken. I don't even have a boyfriend, so how could I be getting married?" Since I refused to admit it, the property management sent me a video from the community's security cameras. In the video, the hallway was decorated with lights and flowers, and guests were coming and going. A large group of people were escorting the bride into the new home. And the groom was none other than my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with two and a half years ago!

After sacrificing her vision, dreams and true love for her father's life, the amazing life of Josephine goes sour. All feats she planned to achieve were swept under the rug. What she doesn't know is that there are more secrets to her arranged marriage than she knows. What will she do when she finds out her true identity? What will she do when she finds out the real truth? Will she forge ahead and fight for her love and family or will she drown in the storm of her life challenges? Only time will reveal. Join Josephine on this romantic and mind thrilling adventure.

Sequel of 'Set Me Free', hope everyone enjoys reading this book as much as they liked the previous one. “What is your name?” A deep voice of a man echoes throughout the poorly lit room. Daniel, who is cuffed to a white medical bed, can barely see anything. Small beads of sweat are pooling on his forehead due to the humidity and hot temperature of the room. His blurry vision keeps on roaming around the trying to find the one he has been looking for forever. Isabelle, the only reason he is holding on, all this pain he is enduring just so that he could see her once he gets out of this place. “What is your name?!” The man now loses his patience and brings up the electrodes his temples and gives him a shock. Daniel screams and throws his legs around and pulls on his wrists hard but it doesn’t work. The man keeps on holding the electrodes to his temples to make him suffer more and more importantly to damage his memories of her. But little did he know the only thing that is keeping Daniel alive is the hope of meeting Isabelle one day. “Do you know her?” The man holds up a photo of Isabelle in front of his face and stops the shocks. “Yes, she is my Isabelle.” A small smile appears on his lips while his eyes close shut.

My name is Alaki Bea Miller-or known above: Alaki Bea X. That is what they call us, the inferior ones: X. In this world, I live under laws that declare it illegal to bear more than one blood in your veins. A legal system built on segregation by race, where mixing blood is the highest crime. In this world, I am not human. I am not a person. I am a thing, an abomination that threatens their system. His name is Efrem Mustafin, leader of one of the five Rings, Master of his race, and the man who saved my life. Legally, he owns me. To save me, he had to claim me as property. And in exchange for my protection, we play a game. One where I submit to him before watching eyes, and he keeps me safe. Master Efrem Mustafin, he is. Subject Alaki Bea X, I am. Or at least, I was. I belong to him. My name is Alaki Bea Mustafin, and in this world, I Am Mustafin.

Layla's life has never been normal. From a young age she was raised by vampires, only to fall into the hands of a pack. Everyday after that, Layla's life gets more complicated and more scary. At first her biggest problems seems to be who she is and who she loves, but never has a person been so wrong, because her biggest chose will be to choose who lives and who dies. This book contains, sexual scenes, violence, death and other triggering matters, please read at own risk. I hope you love my new book.

Samara comes closer to me, now studying my face. Her eyes are wandering all over my facial features. I contort my face in confusion at her weird stares, "Umm, hey-" "Listen, can you wear my wedding dress and be a bride at my place?" She questions. Ec-excuse me? I give her a long stare. I think she is joking and would burst into laughter any minute...but she doesn't. Her face has no trace of humour. "What?" I quirk up my brow. "You've to be a bride at my place." She repeats with no hesitation. Cold shiver trickles through me. .... An Accidental Bride. A Mistaken Groom. A Marriage Neither Saw Coming. 18-year-old Sanaya Frances was finding a way to pay for college. Becoming a cook in the grand Hobsons estate seemed like the perfect opportunity—until a twist of fate lands her in a wedding dress, hidden behind a veil, taking vows meant for someone else. Ashar Hobsons, 25, a powerful businessman, thinks he's marrying his childhood fiancée. But his world turns upside down—he’s been tricked into marrying a stranger. Two strangers. One unplanned marriage. No easy way out. And definitely… no room for love. Or is there?

On the week before Valentine's Day, I want to buy my husband, Grayson Strickland, who works as a university professor, an electronic toothbrush as a gift. That's when I see a review with over ten thousand likes on a particular online store. "I recommend buying from this store! This store's electronic toothbrush is super durable! I've never had to charge this toothbrush for half a year!" Three days later, an additional response is made to that comment. "I'm sorry for misleading everyone. It turns out that my husband has been charging this toothbrush this whole time. It's my fault for being such a doofus! I even pestered him for a long time before I finally found out that he has done a lot for me! "I never have to add toilet rolls to the bathroom. All I thought is that the same toilet roll is extremely thick. The membership that I have on the TV app is often paid for and extended, and yet I thought there was a bug in the app software somehow. Some time ago, the peeling dry skin on my lips miraculously healed. It turns out he was the one who kept applying lip balm onto my lip at night. "He's a university professor, you see. In the past, I often blamed him for not knowing what being romantic was like. But now, I finally realize that those who love you will have a way of showing you how it's done." The rest of the comment section is filled with wailing complaints. They all complain that Valentine's Day isn't even here, and yet they are already sick of the lovey-dovey atmosphere. Amid the Internet users' constant requests, the poster finally uploads the handsome side profile of her husband. Feeling rather envious, I tap on the photo, only for my smile to freeze on my face. That photo actually features Grayson! As I stare at my mother-in-law, who has been paralyzed in bed for the past six years, I recall the fact that Grayson lives on the university campus all around the year. That's when uneasiness begins plaguing me. As expected, when I bring my marriage certificate to the County Clerk’s office and ask about it, the clerk points at the stamp and says, "Your marriage certificate is fake. Mr. Grayson Strickland's spouse is another woman named Callista Whitman." My fingers go slack subconsciously, causing the fake marriage certificate to fall to the floor. A chuckle of despair escapes my lips. Everyone knows that Callista is Grayson's student. She's his most prized student as well as the person who knows him the best. As for me… I'm just a free caretaker whom he has "hired".

After helping my husband build his business from the ground up, I settled into life as a full-time housewife. When our daughter's tenth birthday approached, I planned to host a grand celebration for her. I booked a party that cost 2 thousand dollars per table. But when I swiped my card at the hotel, the staff gave me a strange look. "Mrs. Richmond, this card doesn't even have fifty dollars in it to charge." Flushed with embarrassment, I went home to confront my husband. He wore an apologetic expression. "Lately, the company's been competing for contracts. The new government official is insatiably greedy, and I've had to spend a lot under the table to smooth things over. Once the funds turn around, I'll make sure our daughter gets the grand birthday she deserves." I gave him a gentle, understanding smile—but as soon as I turned away, I began tallying our assets. Because that so-called "new government official" was none other than my father. And in his office, there hadn't been any bids or contracts at all. Now I intended to find out exactly where my husband had spent all our money.