Why Couldn't They Save Dobby Novels & Stories

The dormitory entrance downstairs is completely blocked. After squeezing to the front row, a he-wolf from the physical training camp next door points and whistles at me. "Look, that's the Luminian vixen. She's famous for being a notch-collector and will do it with any Alpha." My bed is strewn with rotten meat and animal entrails. On the wall, the words "Harlot", "Floozy", and "Tart" are scrawled in bright red lipstick. Jessica Cobb, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheer captain, holds up her phone. "Girls, I really don't want to expose her, but she's just filthy," she says with a face filled with contempt. "She's worse than a dog in heat. On Monday, it was the little hottie with the six-pack abs in his Ferrari. "Wednesday, it was the mature Alpha who reeks of cigars and has eyes that look like they want to devour you in his Bentley. Yesterday, it was that old gentleman with the monocle who's into domination in his Rolls-Royce." She shoves the photos right in the faces of the surrounding women. "Clearly, she didn't come here to study, but to find a sugar daddy." Despite the crystal-clear pictures showing me in those cars, I can't reveal that the men with me are my obsessively controlling older brother, my hot-tempered uncle, and my great-uncle. Respectively, they are the Alpha King of Lumin, the Chief Justice, and the Chair of the Elders' Council. The surrounding male werewolves burst into laughter, their eyes roaming over my thighs. "Hey, Luminian doll, how much for one night? I'd like a taste of you too." They have no idea that these men they're fantasizing about as my sugar daddies are actually the werewolf elders they can least afford to mess with in this lifetime.

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

The day my husband, Lucas Maxwell, helps his childhood sweetheart—Cecilia Brown, who has cancer—lose her virginity, I leave behind a divorce agreement and walk away. Before I leave, I drop a comment beneath a photo of them on his social media. Their fingers are tightly interlocked in the photo. "Let's get divorced. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." A minute later, he calls me. "How did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you, Fiona Sinclair? Do you really have the heart to let her die without leaving anything behind?" I sneer, "You're no longer my husband. How is that my problem?" That's when he panics.

Chance takes another drink of beer and points his finger at Alex. "I bet you can't." Alex doesn't understand why they think it is such a big deal. He can go without s*x if he wanted to. He just doesn't want to. What is so wrong with that? They should be thankful. It keeps him entertained and relaxed. Alex points his finger back at him. "I bet I can." Will Alex find it as easy as he thinks it will be to win the bet? Or will he run into some obstacles along the way? One of which is a tan muscular man who is willing to help Alex with whatever Alex needs, but is the man's help to win the bet or to win Alex?

After my year-end bonus came in, I immediately transferred 10,000 dollars to my husband to buy New Year’s gifts for both our parents. I even told him to get the very best, especially that case of whisky for my father. On New Year’s Eve, I rushed home to have dinner with my parents. However, at the table that night, Dad, who had always loved his drinks, was sipping tea instead. I was confused. “Dad, it’s the holidays. Why didn't you bring out the liquor?” I smiled as I rose to my feet to grab the case. “Kevin went out of his way to get this. I heard it tastes amazing.” “Don’t touch it!” Dad slammed his teacup against the floor. His face was flushed dark red. “Zeena, don’t send this stuff anymore. I know it’s not easy for you to make money in the city. But even if our Collins family is poor, we still have our pride! People in the village are talking behind my back, saying I’m putting on airs!” I was completely stunned. I opened the bottle and took a sip, then froze for a moment. This was not whisky at all. It was just plain water.

Just after stepping out of the shower, I received a private message from my so-called uncle, Hank Shephard—a distant relative I barely ever spoke to. "Francis, that new car you posted looks impressive. Perfect for William's wedding!" I hadn't even figured out how to reply to that out-of-nowhere comment when another message popped up. "Your cousin William is getting married next month. Just treat your car as his wedding gift." The entitlement in his tone made my head hurt. I didn't bother arguing and closed the chat window. Apparently, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he had said. Messages kept coming. "Don't worry, your uncle won't let you suffer a loss. "When it's your turn to get married, I'll have William drive that car as your lead wedding car. It'll make you look good." I stared at the screen in silence. That was the moment I realized—Some people don't just feel entitled to your belongings. They believe your life exists to serve theirs.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

Three years ago, my husband, my parents, and my adopted sister faked their deaths to test whether I had married into the DeLuca family for love or for power. They cut off my money, took my home, and left me and my son with nothing. Three years later, they came back. My husband stepped out of a black Rolls-Royce, looked down at me, and said, “Evelyn, you passed the test.” What he didn’t know was that my son was already dead. And I was dying too.

After seven years of being mates with Alpha David Jones, he secretly cheats on one she-wolf after another from the Nighthowl pack. When I'm pregnant and almost due for labor, his secret lover offends the Alpha of Wildrift pack. To prevent a battle between the packs, David wants me to get to my knees before Wildrift pack's Alpha and beg for forgiveness. I refuse, afraid that it'll hurt the child. He snaps, "How can getting on your knees affect the child? We can just have another one if you have a miscarriage!" He drags me to the Alpha of Wildrift pack and forces me onto my knees. Then, he tells me to beg for forgiveness. My water breaks just then. David's lover, Sarah Lloyd, merely laughs mockingly. "Look at her, so scared that she's wet herself!" That night, I suffer from a difficult labor, almost losing my life. Meanwhile, the news of David heroically storming the Wildrift pack's territory to save Sarah spreads throughout the pack. I'm calm when David's mother, Celine Anderson, hurries to my bedside. "You promised I could leave after giving birth to an heir. Can I go now?"

I got my marriage certificate with the heir of the most powerful family of the city in the morning. By the afternoon, he took me to file for divorce. I clutched the documents and stood frozen as his friends burst into unrestrained laughter around me. “Julian, just because Elena said that, you actually married Maya just to divorce her right away?” “Haha, look at her face. She’s gone pale. Is she about to cry?” However, Julian simply pulled my adopted sister, Elena, into his arms. His voice was soft with affection. “Now that we’ve got divorced, will you finally smile for me?” Elena let out a chuckle. Her cool, aloof face bloomed into a smile. I tried to step forward and question Julian, but my three brothers held me back. My eldest brother, the CEO, frowned and said, “Elena only smiles for him. Try having some decency.” My second brother, the actor, shoved me to the ground. “She’s had a hard life. You have everything. You don’t need this one man.” My third brother, a biology professor, said coldly, “Julian should’ve married her long ago. Stop interfering.” They forced me into the car, refusing to let me stand in the way of their love and her happiness. At that moment, the system that had been silent for so long finally came online: [Host, the objective has been completed. Do you wish to return to the real world now?] I sat in the back seat, gazing out the window. I almost let out a laugh. The tragic play I had put on for this mission was finally over. From now on, I wanted no part in their lives.