Zac Efron Car Accident Novels & Stories

My grandfather, the company’s chairman, had an unmistakable obsession with pink. Not only had he decorated his entire house in soft rosy hues, but he even had his newly purchased Rimac Nevera repainted in blush pink. I was home for the summer. On the day he got his new car, he excitedly asked me to drive him to work. We had just entered the underground parking garage when a black Rolls-Royce suddenly blared its horn and sped up to cut in front of me. It then slammed on the brakes without warning. Unable to react in time, I crashed straight into it. The driver lowered his window and cursed at me. His face was twisted with arrogance. “Are you blind? Vixen, can’t you drive?” Swallowing my anger, I retorted, “You were the one who deliberately cut me off. How can you twist this around and blame me?” He let out a mocking snort. “You women in pink cars are hopeless drivers, yet you still blame others? You had it coming. You must be a new intern. Let me tell you something. You’ve just hit the chairman’s car. Get ready to go bankrupt!” My grandfather and I exchanged a baffled look. If that was the chairman’s car, what were we in?

Can you imagine having the world's worst bachelorette party in Vegas? Waking up the next morning with no memory of the night before, with three diamond rings on your fingers, in a penthouse full of strangers, with two of your friends missing, one pregnant by a stranger and suspected of the overdose death of another of your friends? It becomes a challenge to reveal the truth behind a blurred memory and illegal marriage records with three strangers, while you are about to get married. And a dangerous secret waited for me on the other side. How long could it take you to go from being an illegal wife to a killing machine? ─────── ✿ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ NOTE: COMMENTING outside, on the cover of the book, is important for the work to be more recognized. Leaving comments inside the book, between chapters, is great. However, the reviews, already as I pointed out, will be weighty for the growth of the story. Please comment outside on the cover.

During my dad's funeral procession, the hearse grinds to a halt when a wedding convoy blocks its way. I get out of my car and try to negotiate with the groom, only for him to grab a brick and smash it right into my head. "Who the hell do you think you are for blocking my way? Do you have any idea who I'm marrying?" In fact, the groom has the nerve to stomp down on the gas pedal and crash into the hearse, sending it—and my dad's body—flipping over the road. "What do you mean 'respect the dead'? As if! My wife is the chairwoman of Nexora Group! You should be honored that you get to make way for her!" But the thing is, Nexora Group is my family's company. I turn to look at the bride depicted on the wedding banner. That woman is Josephine Thornton, my wife who's supposed to be on an overseas business trip right now! So, I place a phone call and have Josephine dismissed from her job. This time, I'd like to see what Josephine and her new "husband" can do to make it up to my dad, a national hero who devoted his life to the country!

“Your body is made to carry my pup! Do that without objection and leave after giving birth to him,” Travis husked, his voice causing vibrations on earth. Rhea Duncan stared at him unblinkingly and scoffed, “I didn’t want to stay here anymore either. I’m still enduring your annoying nature because I have no choice.” • Rhea Duncan was inseminated by her best friend, Phoebe Barton, so that she could snatch her boyfriend from her. Her scheme was successful, but what Phoebe didn’t know was that she had just made her best friend a surrogate mother to the most eligible and enigmatic man in the country, and the alpha of his pack. What happens when a random human invades Alpha Travis’s world unexpectedly? What happens when Rhea Duncan realizes that the world she assumed was fiction is actually real, and she has just become a surrogate mother for the leader of that world? Will they accept that it is fate or just an accident?

I receive a random WhatsApp message from Charlotte Ellis, a neighbor living downstairs, at 11:00 pm. "Olivia, do you drive to the city center every morning?" I've just gotten to know Charlotte, so I just reply, "Yes." Originally, I thought this is just small talk. But Charlotte is quick to send me a long audio message. "That's wonderful news! My husband is on a business trip lately, so I'm worried that I don't have anyone to send me to work! "From now on, you have to wait for me in your car at 8:00 am. Then, you can drop me off at my company." I frown immediately. "That's really inconvenient for me." My phone screen begins flickering all of a sudden. It turns out that Charlotte has started a voice call with me. "C'mon, Olivia! We're all neighbors here! So what if you have to make a detour of a few miles or so? Since you're sending me to work, I can help pass the time by chatting with you and alleviating your boredom! Besides, it'll be a waste of your front passenger seat, seeing as it's left empty and all!"

What happens when a food-obsessed blogger dies mid-bite and wakes up as the royal psychiatrist to a Lycan king who’s one bad day away from burning the kingdom down? Ariana never asked to be Lady Elena Voss: ice-cold healer by day, assassin by night, and—thanks to a cosmic clerical error—the fated mate of King Kael Draven, a man whose mind is a battlefield and whose violent alter ego is counting down to total takeover. Kael can hear every single one of her unfiltered thoughts: the panic, the food cravings, the 3 a.m. Reddit scrolls, the running commentary about how stupidly hot he is. And somehow, her chaos is the only thing keeping him halfway human. But Elena’s old life isn’t staying buried. Old enemies remember her blades. Her emotionless little sister is hiding something behind those blank blue eyes. And the snarky blue orb feeding her “missions” might not be what it seems. As the mate bond tightens and Kael’s darkness claws closer, two questions burn louder than the rest: What if the thing she was sent here to heal… is the very thing that will kill her? Can a girl with zero qualifications, a Reddit addiction, and a possessed wolf pup save a broken king— or will his monster claim her first?

Three years married to Victor, the Don, and as far as New York was concerned, we were untouchable. Until my own car was in the shop, so I took his daily driver from the garage. On the way, I activated the car's smart system and said, "Navigate home." But the screen pinpointed a place I had never seen before — a villa in the suburbs. Then, a sugary-sweet voice floated from the speakers: "Okay! Setting course for Victor and Mia's secret castle." My stomach dropped. Who was Mia? And what secret castle? Without a second thought, I dialed his number. "The home address is set to some strange place." He just laughed it off. "Oh, that. One of my guys' car broke down the other day. I let him use mine to drop someone off." "Okay, no problem," I said, smiling into the phone. I ended the call and pulled up the navigation history. That villa address was listed seventeen times, every single one on a day Victor was supposedly "out of town on business." I fired up the engine and drove.

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 husband, Landon Hart, lost a truth-or-dare round, so he carries out the punishment by making out passionately with his secretary, Amelia Colton, in my car. They've gone so far as to leave stains of their coupling on my son's booster seat. After Amelia sends me the video clip of them making out, I forward it to Landon right away. "Are you about to file for bankruptcy, Mr. Hart? What, are you only capable of cheating on me in my car?" Landon sends me an audio message. His tone carries a hint of satisfaction—clearly, he's done having his fun. "This is just a business alliance between us. Do you seriously think I'm your actual husband? It's just a dare! What, are you too prim and proper for games now?" I just chortle coldly in return. Well then, I'll make Landon understand that he should pay the price for doing something he's not supposed to do.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"