Wink Photo Booth

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

On New Year’s Eve, an old friend called to congratulate me on the birth of my son. “Emrys, you’ve been keeping this a secret pretty well! If I hadn’t seen you and your wife taking care of the baby together, I wouldn’t have known you had a child!” I froze in my tracks. How could I not know I had a child? And that I was taking care of him with her? I immediately called my wife, who was still working late, to confront her about it. She just laughed and said our friend must have been mistaken, which was why this whole mix-up happened. But the very next second, our friend sent a photo. In the photo, she was facing sideways, holding a child in her arms, with a man standing beside her. Only his back was visible, but the silhouette was exactly like mine. Her smile was gentle and radiant. At first glance, she looked utterly blissful. I stared at the meticulously prepared New Year’s Eve dinner spread before me and suddenly flung it to the floor. I immediately dialed my brother. He was a lawyer. “Celene Zeller cheated on me. She even had a child. “I want a divorce. I want to kick her out of my company and make her leave with nothing.”

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

The day my mother brought her childhood sweetheart back to the villa, my father—who had already quit smoking—stood on the balcony and smoked through the entire night. Back then, his colleagues at the research institute all envied him for having a wife who was a CEO. They said he should have stayed home and enjoyed life—why work so hard outside when all he needed to do was keep a firm grip on the household finances? But my father never agreed. "Those things are all external," he would say. "As long as the feelings are still there, we'll be fine whether we're rich or poor. And if one day she no longer loves me, I'll leave with nothing and walk away alone." He never expected his words to become prophecy. My mother truly did stop loving him. Later, when she appeared before the media, arm in arm with that man, my father didn't look back. He boarded a flight overseas and disappeared from our lives. And as I stared at the photo in my social feed—my fiancée's hand entwined with someone else's—I knew it was time for me to leave too, just like my father had.

Août 2018, sans s’annoncer, Éric s’arrête au Conssé, l’affaire de quelques minutes... Le Conssé ? Cela fait quinze ans, qu’il n’y a pas mis les pieds ! La vieille maison appartient à Clémentine de Boisin. À quatre-vingt-dix-huit ans, bon-pied, bon-œil, « Tante Clém » est l’âme de la demeure. L’été, elle y accueille sa famille. Le reste de l’année, elle y vit retirée au milieu des souvenirs. Une photo datée de 1942, retrouvée par accident, s’invite. Que vient faire ici, le mystérieux sourire figé sur pellicule, issu d’une époque troublée ? Face à Éric, la porte du grenier s’entrouvre... Emmanuel de Scorraille , diplômé de l’enseignement supérieur, est un romancier passionné d’histoire, de culture et de littérature. Le silence de la terre est une fiction historique, inspirée de l’actualité. « Que s’est-il passé le 27 novembre 2018 ? »

"Desmond." My voice cracked. "What are you?" His eyes flashed gold in the darkness. "Something you should've stayed away from.” But I couldn't stay away. Not when every cell in my body screamed that he was mine. Five years ago, my step-brother disappeared from my life without explanation. Now Desmond's back, using a different last name and pretending we're strangers. But the way he watches me says otherwise. The way his hands shake when I get too close. The way his eyes turn gold when he thinks I'm not looking. He warns me to stay away. Says there are things about our past I'm better off not knowing. But I found the photo, the one showing us as kids, completely in love, and I can't remember any of it. Six months of my life, erased. When I push for answers, people start following me. Desmond gets violent and protective. And the boy who broke my heart by leaving is suddenly everywhere, fighting invisible threats I don't understand. He's hiding something that could ruin us both. But I'm done running from a past I can't remember. Even if the truth destroys me.

The Nightshade Clan and the Slinter Clan were ancient enemies. Yet Augustine and I, the Prince and Princess of our rival clans, fell in love. We were Mates. Our love was a firestorm, defying all who stood against us. On the day we sealed our blood pact, Augustine held my hand and, with his own blood, made a solemn vow. "If I should ever betray you, may I suffer the agony of a thousand silver daggers to the heart. And may all the power of the Slinter Clan be yours." I looked at him then, my smile so full of happiness it felt like it could light up the night. On our 500th anniversary, Augustine filled an entire city with blood-red roses for me. But all I got was a photo from his human blood slave. In it, she was naked, her skin covered in the marks of a long night of sex. And the hand wrapped around her waist… I knew it instantly. My name was tattooed on the wrist. 【The Prince says he only feels true pleasure when he's fucking me.】 【He took me five times tonight. I'm afraid he won't have anything left for you. Sorry, Princess.】 I didn’t reply. I just quietly took out the blood pact. In seven days, I would hold him to his vow.

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.

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

Three years into our marriage, Rylan Shaw brings another woman home. "Maeve, you should learn from the younger ladies. Stop acting like a block of wood all the time." With a calm resolve, I shatter our wedding photo and hand him the divorce papers I've long prepared. "Let's get divorced, Rylan. I'll step aside for her," I declare. His friends insist that without him, I'll starve on the streets. Rylan believes the same. "Once she's suffered enough out there, she'll realize how lucky she was to be Mrs. Shaw." But a week passes, then a month—and I never return. That's when Rylan begins to grow uneasy. Panic and restless nights consume him. One evening, drunk and desperate, he pounds on the door of my new apartment. "Maeve, if it's money you want, I'll give it all to you…" The door swings open to reveal an unfamiliar man—bare-chested, pajama pants hanging low, fresh scratches streaking his abdomen. Jonah Archer arches a brow, dissatisfaction flickering in his eyes as he asks, "Mr. Shaw, what madness brings you to my wife's door in the middle of the night?"