Lady Prim

"You need to stay away from me to stay alive. Am I clear, Miss Bell?" He glowered at me and pulled the water gun from my hands. Well, what wrong did I do? I am just giving presentation with few realistic examples. One second... why are you spared of him, Rainbow! He is just a mere CEO and you are a ten letter long chairwoman. "Ahem... And you should stay in you limits to stay in the pompany at all." I finally pompleted the statement with ponfident stance but God bless me, I am so spared of this man from inside. Oh Lord, why did you throw me here? *** Keenan Coopers, who lived a life of royalty, born with a silver spoon and got everything he wanted. What will happen when nobody-like Rainbow comes into his life and turns it upside down? Rainbow Bell, a nurse by profession, is a kind and meekly spicy girl who aspires to become a doctor. What will happen when she unexpectedly gets under Keenan's skin, not to mention the way she addresses him. The mistakes in the above paragraphs are not really mistakes, it is how Rainbow speaks. To know more, follow the journey of the opposite poles.

"Why did you follow me, Nicco? We are nothing to each other now." I whispered with so much pain and sorrow coating over my voice. "Few months ago, time was favorable to you and you chose to leave me." Nicco inched towards me with furious red eyes and clenched jaws in anger, but held my hand ever so gently like he always does. "Now my time has come. See, I found you and now I will make sure you never leave me again. If I need to glue you to me, so be it." He declared firmly and crashed his lips on mine. Phoebe Smith, an escort of thirteen years sweet and gentle, fell in love with Niccolo Russo who was her only master and the only person who ever touched her. He was her first best friend, her first kiss and her first in everything. So why did she run away from him if she loves him so much? Niccolo Russo, CEO of Russo empire, Arrogant and bad tempered yet so understanding; felt his heart skip a beat several times only for one woman. Phoebe. She was his friend, his adviser and his sanity. Then what had he ever done to make her run away from him? Follow the journey of two people bind by promises, duties and responsibilities pulling them apart and how love binds them together forever.

"I kill for living" I said seriously expecting the beauty before me to back away in fear. I leaned close towards her and brought my face just inches away from her beautiful pinkish face. "Kill? Kill what?" She frowned. I internally hit my forehead at the raising annoyance. She didn't back away from the closeness, in fact she did not observe it at all. She was too much into the conversation. "Of course I Kill people. I'm not into poultry to raise and kill chicken." I scoffed and leaned in closer to intimidate her. I was expecting her to shriek, cry, yell and run away far from me but What I got in response was what exactly you expect from the beauty. The unexpected answer. "So you clean too. Nice." She told herself with a smile and a appreciative nod. "Goodness, What and why would I clean?" Furrowing my brows in confusion and utter disbelief, I shook my head to compose myself. "You said you kill people. You kill bad people to do welfare to the Earth so you are cleaning away dirt right?" That did it. I, Demyan Lev Petrov, the most powerful, ruthless and dangerous king of Mafia, accept that I lost the argument to her. Zinnia Mae White, the most innocent and a mental girl I ever got lucky to meet. That crazy girl doesn't know whom to fear and whom not to. The day she entered my life was the day my happy, bloody, dangerous life, she turned it, crushed it and made me lose my sanity with everything she does and says. But Damn, I love that in her so much. I love her This mental, fickle minded, school teacher of mine! My Zinnia, My insane solace.

A place of superstitions A place of curses A girl who was forced to sacrifice her life for the welfare of the village and was widowed against her will. Widowed? Or Married? Ella Rosemane was satisfied with what little she and her family had. But one incongruous incident shatters everything she had and kills the spirit in her. Stuck between being a widow and married, Ella finds the curse around her is embraced by a stranger who is anything but a stranger to her. "My Corpse Husband" is a Gothic love story with heartfelt love and a lovely romance.

"You, my dear, are just a tissue with my brand name on it. Only I can use you and throw as I want." He whispered harshly holding my neck tightly and biting my cheek with so much desire, like an animal he is. "P-ple-ase leav-e m-me. ple-" I cried and begged him to leave me but that only heightened his desire for me and crashed his lips on mine in to a rough kiss. Sienna Thomas is a 20 year old sweet and intelligent girl who is thriving for a change of life keeping a big secret from the world. But to outside world she is known as sienna Miller. Her life is a book of problems until she meets Leonardo Bianchi, the root cause for her problems unknowingly. Leonardo Bianchi is Multi-billionaire who is rude, snobby and arrogant. Life is the cost to pay if something or someone goes against him. But that's until a petite young girl flips his life upside down with her innocence. Why is Leonardo blamed for Sienna's problems? Does she know that he is the root cause for her pitiful life?

Josie Watson asked for a divorce for the ninety-ninth time, but Laurence Andrews took a call from his first love and told her to get out of the car. "Go home and think it over. I hope this is the last time you make a fuss," he said. For Rosalie Harris, he abandoned Josie repeatedly, humiliating her. Laurence believed Josie couldn't survive without him. He didn't know Rosalie's brother was secretly encouraging Josie to divorce and leave the country.

After seven years in a dungeon for a crime I didn't commit, my fated mate, the Alpha who let them drag me away, finally opened my cell door. He announced I would take my place as his Luna, not out of love, but because the law demanded it. But the moment a frantic mind-link came through that his precious Seraphina-my adopted sister, the one who framed me-was having trouble breathing, he abandoned me without a second glance. That night, huddled in a dusty shack, I overheard my own parents' secret conversation. They were planning to have me exiled. Permanently. My return had upset Seraphina, and her "weak heart" couldn't take the shock. I lay there in the darkness, feeling nothing. Not surprise. Not even pain. Just a profound, empty coldness. They were casting me out. Again. But as they plotted my exile, a secret message arrived for me-an offer of escape. A new life in a sanctuary far to the north, where I could leave the Blackmoon Pack behind forever. They thought they were getting rid of me. Little did they know, I was already gone.

My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage. Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer. An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them? The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind? I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

My husband's secret life walked into my office on my first day as Chief Resident: a four-year-old boy with his father's eyes and a rare hereditary allergy that I knew all too well. Emilio, the man I married, the brilliant rival who swore he couldn't live without me, had another family. At his company's anniversary gala, his son publicly called me a bad woman trying to steal his daddy. When I took a step toward the child, Emilio shoved me to the ground to protect him. I hit my head, and as the life of our unborn child bled out of me, he walked away without a second glance. He never visited me in the hospital. He left me to deal with the loss of our baby alone. That's when I knew the man I loved was truly gone, and our five years of marriage had been a lie. His mistress tried to finish the job, pushing me off a cliff into the sea. But I survived. And as the world mourned the death of Elana Thomas, I boarded a plane to Zurich, ready to begin my new life.

My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through. That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister. But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library. They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien. Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve. I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen. This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over. "No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."

I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved. On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there. I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera. She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning. I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine. "She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad." My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family. "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you." The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

My son, Leo, died a month ago from what they called a tragic accident. My husband, Benedict, has been my rock, holding me together as our world ended. But when he brought the nanny, Kendall, to our home, he wasn't comforting me. He was comforting her. He called me hysterical for wanting to plan our son's funeral because it was upsetting Kendall. That night, I heard them together in the guest room. His low rumble, her soft reply. In a desperate need to feel close to my son, I went to his room and found his smartwatch. The one he was supposed to be wearing that day. I charged it, and a notification popped up: Leo's Journey - Data Upload Complete. I pressed play and heard it all. My son, begging for me as he baked to death in the car. Kendall, telling him to be quiet before locking the doors. The betrayal was absolute. My grief vanished, replaced by a cold, hard clarity. My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting our son's murderer. I scrolled past my family and friends and found the name of my husband's biggest rival. "Chase," I said when he answered, my voice steady and unrecognizable. "I'm leaving the company. I need a change of scenery."

My hands were my entire career, the key to my life as one of New York's top hand models. My fiancé, Chase, had plucked me from a small town and given me a world of glamour. I thought I owed him everything. Then his high school sweetheart, Karis, gave me a "luxury" treatment at her salon that left my hands with chemical burns, destroying my ten-year career overnight. Chase called it an "accident" and defended her. He told me Karis was so upset she might have to join him on our honeymoon to St. Barts to feel better. At our rehearsal dinner, when Karis suggested I'd hurt myself for attention, Chase publicly shamed me for upsetting her. His bachelor party turned out to be a private date with her. I found the prenup he wanted me to sign: if we divorced, I'd get nothing. But the final blow came the night before our wedding. As he slept, he grabbed my arm and whispered her name. "Karis... don't go." I realized then I was just a stand-in, a warm body in the dark. My love for him had been a survival strategy in a world he built for me, and I was finally suffocating. The next morning, on our wedding day, I didn't walk down the aisle. I walked out the door with nothing but my passport and made a call I hadn't made in fifteen years. An hour later, I was on my way to a private jet, leaving my old life to burn behind me.