Zombie Glass

The night before our wedding, Jason Scott receives the cancer diagnosis of my adopted younger sister, Helena Sanderson. His expression falters, and he says indignantly, "We'll cancel the wedding tomorrow, Victoria. Helena is very fragile now. I can't risk upsetting her at this point in time." I reply, "I don't agree with it! Why would my wedding upset her?" Jason doesn't show any displeasure after my rejection. He even thoughtfully prepares a glass of milk for me. … When I wake up the next morning, I realize the house that should be full of excitement is eerily quiet. Anxious, I dial Jason's number 99 times. He only picks up the call on my 100th try. "Where did my wedding dress and shoes go?" I ask. Jason falls silent for a moment. His tone is apologetic when he replies, "I'm sorry, Victoria. Helena wants to experience being a bride once. I can't let her leave with regrets. Please bear with this for now. I'll make it up to you once she passes away peacefully." As the line goes dead, I sit frozen on the bed, unable to recover for some time. … A month later, while Jason is on his honeymoon, I send the livestream of my wedding announcement with his rival, Frank Lawrent, directly onto his phone. Jason regrets it bitterly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Darlington growled, his thick cock buried deep inside her, stretching her with slow, deliberate thrusts that made her tremble. "No," Freya moaned, legs wrapped tight around his waist, hips rocking desperately to take him deeper. "God, no... harder." She was supposed to seduce him. Spy on him. Steal his secrets to save her dying mother. But the city's most ruthless billionaire, Darlington Knight, saw right through her from the moment she walked into his world. Now he's the one claiming her—pinning her against silk sheets, against cold glass walls, in the dark heat of his penthouse—fucking her senseless until she forgets her mission, forgets her lies, forgets everything but the way he owns her body. Every touch is dangerous. Every kiss a threat. He knows she's hiding something... and he's going to make her beg to confess—on her knees, breathless, dripping for him. Freya came to betray him. Instead, she's falling—hard, fast, and filthy—into a passion that could ruin them both. Even though Darlington might have his secrets, will he still see her the same way after finding out she was just a spy sent to seduce him?"

I'm the only university student in the village. But my entire family praises my cousin, Calvin Meyer, who has graduated from a vocational school, for being a talented person. What I've discovered is that Calvin's so-called talent actually comes from him voicing my thoughts. When I want to recite a poem as a toast to the guests, Calvin quickly says the poem out loud, resulting in everyone applauding for him. Naturally, Calvin takes the initiative to show off his "flair" for poetry in front of Barbara Sullivan, a well-known professor, by reciting the poetry that I've thought up. Because of that, she has taken a fancy to him. My uncle, Gary Meyer, uses the opportunity to insult me for being a dull bookworm who doesn't know how to socialize with others. On my grandpa's 80th birthday, my aunt, Sierra Meyer, who runs a huge business on her own, brings her family back to the village for the occasion. Uncle Gary arranges for me and Calvin to prepare a speech of our own so that we can convince Aunt Sierra to extend a helping hand to the youngsters' careers in the family. At the banquet, Calvin shoots up to his feet with his wine glass raised. He shoots me a smug look at that moment. Meanwhile, I just keep smiling before I begin thinking about the shocking gossip featuring Aunt Sierra and her family.

"Don't waste your time doing those." I heard his deep voice behind me as l accidentally dropped the spoon in my hand. "I-I wanted to make you breakfast." I replied in a timid voice, a little higher than a whisper. "I'm not hungry." He grumbled as he walked past me to settle on a stool. "Okay." I mumbled as I stood there like a statue not knowing what to do next. "You look hot in that dress." He smirked as he poured some scotch into a glass cup before taking a sip. "it's a pity I don't see you as a woman." "what do you see me as then?" | asked as I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. "Just a pet." he shrugged. "not my fault your parents sold you to me." "What are you talking about? I'm your wife." I say as l glared at him. "Really? who told you that?" "My parents told me you loved me that was why you married me." My voice broke as I remembered how my parents convinced me into agreeing to our marriage. "Well, your parents lied." *************** Priscilla williams was forced into an arranged marriage because of her parent's debt to powerful mafia king Alfonso de Luca. Alfonso is known to be a cold and powerful person who thinks love is a man's weakness but what happens when Priscilla slowly becomes his weakness.

Two weeks before our wedding, Jonah Alston suddenly wants to postpone it. He says, "Sasha says she's having her first exhibition on that day. She'll be alone during the opening, and I'm worried she'll get stage fright. I have to help her. We're just going through the motions with the wedding, anyway. What does it matter whether it's a day earlier or later?" This isn't his first time postponing our wedding for Sasha Lester's sake, though. The first time he did it was because he claimed she missed having homecooked food after undergoing surgery. He'd flown abroad to care for her for two months. The second time was because he said she wanted to head into the mountains to get inspired. He'd gone with her out of concern for her safety. Now, this is the third time. I hang up and look at Austin Everett, my childhood sweetheart. He sits across from me, looking leisurely as he taps his emerald-embedded walking cane on the marble floor. I ask, "Do you need a wife?" On my wedding day, Sasha holds up her glass and waits for Jonah to clink it with his. However, his eyes are red as he watches a livestream—it's the wedding of the scion of Everett Group, the country's largest property development company.

In my ninth year of being with Tyler Freeman, he flaunts his relationships with other women while I'm only allowed to come and go from his bedroom. He doesn't acknowledge me as his girlfriend, yet he allows his friends to address me as such. I have a name but not an identity. His friends are bored during a private party and want me to perform a strip dance on stage to liven things up. I expect Tyler to at least turn them down on my behalf, but all he does is sip his wine and say, "Go on. You're the owner of this place, aren't you? Aren't clubs supposed to satisfy their patrons' needs? Don't let my friends down!" I look at him emotionlessly. I don't cry or throw a fuss. Instead, I splash a glass of liquor in his face. The following day, I trash the club. Three months later, Tyler finally thinks of calling me. "Where are you? Aren't you gonna get the hell back here? Do you really expect me to beg you to come back? Do you think you're worthy of that?" I pull my newlywed husband to the camera. "Sorry, Mr. Freeman. I'm getting married. You don't need to come, but do get me a wedding gift." Unexpectedly, he threatens to show my husband intimate videos of me when he sees me in a wedding gown.

I mistook being wanted for being loved. It's an easy mistake when you've never had either. Roman gave me five years of broken glass, bruised wrists, and a soundproof bedroom. I stayed because leaving felt impossible. Because I had a son to protect. Because I thought love meant enduring. Then one day I ran. And the courtroom that was supposed to save me became another trap — because the lawyer I trusted had already been bought. Tired of it all, I decided if I couldn't be free, I wouldn't be at all. I decided to commit suicide. The worst part? The man who walked into that hospital room and saved my life is the same man I've spent five years trying to forget. The stranger from one reckless night. The father of my son. Damien Douglas. Brilliant surgeon. The only man who has ever looked at me like I was worth seeing. But there was a big problem; he was Roman's stepbrother. The deeper I fall into Damien's world, the more I realise my marriage to Roman was never about love or control. It was about keeping me from finding out who I really am. Who my father was. What was taken from me before I was old enough to know I had it. Roman's family destroyed my father and buried the truth. Now I have it back. Now it's my turn to bury the Douglas family, but will I bury Damien also?

I kept our marriage a secret for three years, enduring every sneer as her VP while helping her build her empire. Tanya Cox rose from a scorned, illegitimate daughter to a revered CEO. She once nestled in my embrace and promised to be open about our relationship when the company went public. I waited year after year. Even when our child was born, she still hadn’t made good on her word. One day, I pressed for a timeline. However, Tanya simply put the baby in my arms. “Callum, things are complicated at the moment. The disclosure will only hurt the stock price. I gave you a child. Isn’t that enough?” Alas, when her childhood friend, Gavin Nolan, returned from abroad on New Year’s Day, he took the seat of honor during our newborn’s sip and see event. Gavin, cradling my baby girl, accepted well-wishes from friends and family with a smile. “Don’t take things the wrong way. The right etiquette probably slipped his mind since he’s been away for so long. He’s only sitting there to keep the baby entertained. That’s all. Don’t read too much into it. “We’ve always been close since childhood. He’s going to be the godfather of our child. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of him.” Beaming, I raised my glass as a toast to Gavin. Tanya was wrong. I wasn’t at all jealous. Heck, I was done with her.

On my 20th birthday, my father hosts a dinner for our allied families. He lifts his glass with a smile and turns to his old friend, saying, "It's time my principessa chooses a husband from your sons." Without hesitation, I choose the youngest—Salvatore Carlo. Everyone is stunned. After all, I'm Estella Vinci, the eldest daughter of the Vinci family. I was born into wealth and power, with a father from a long-established Virellian mafia family and a mother from Montavira's ruthless DeNucci bloodline. And yet, I was hopelessly in love with Giovanni Carlo, third son of the Carlo family. In my past life, I got exactly what I wished for. I became his wife. He got what he wanted too. With my father's power, he became the heir of the Carlo family. But after we got married, my adopted sister Eleanor Vinci became his mistress. When my father found out, he was furious. He sent her far away in marriage to Norland. From that day on, Giovanni hated me with everything he had. He drowned himself in nightclubs, night after night, always bringing home women who looked just like Eleanor. He let them mock me and humiliate me. On my birthday, one of them poisoned my cake. I died with hatred in my heart at eight months pregnant. Now that I am reborn, I decide to let them have each other. But the moment I choose Salvatore, Giovanni loses his mind.

..Saw my hubby, but I was in another woman's body, and this time he wasn't my husband, his uncle was. ~ A voice suddenly cut through the silence. “Oh my goodness, you're finally awake Mrs. Blackwood!” Mrs Blackwood? That was.. I tried to speak, but my voice was a mere whisper. The nurse, a kind faced woman with a warm smile, helped me sit up and handed me a glass of water. As I sipped, fragments of memories began to resurface. A car crash.. screams? and Kenneth's face? But why couldn't I put two and two together? "Can you help me to the toilet?" I asked the nurse, my voice still weak. The nurse nodded and assisted me out of bed and my legs trembled beneath me as I walked, unaccustomed to bearing my weight after such a long time of bederiding Once in the bathroom, I stared at the mirror, expecting to see my own reflection but the face staring back at me was unfamiliar, younger and prettier. A jolt of fear immediately coursed through me. Who was this person? "Mrs. Victoria Blackwood?” I heard the nurse call out from behind and it dawned on me.. that name belonged to Alexander Blackwood's wife, my husband's uncle! A wave of panic washed over me. What was happening? Why was I in this body? I stumbled backward, the nurse catching me by my waist. "Steady Mrs. Blackwood. You're still recovering." But I wasn't recovering. I was lost. Trapped in a stranger's life.