SPPrincess

Emma and her brother just lost their father to a sickness no healer could fix, and on top of that King Benton, a friend of their father sent Emma a letter stating that he was sending his eldest son to ask for her hand in marriage.

Anja woke up in an interstellar empire where females were precious assets-and promptly got dumped by her arrogant fiancé. He waited for her to cry. She laughed in his face. With a single thumbprint, she dissolved the marriage, kicked him out with security drones, and walked straight to the government assessment center. The test revealed something impossible: an S-Class psionic rating, the highest in a century. Now five elite, beast-eared warriors are being dispatched to her estate. They're dangerous. Possessive. And genetically engineered to worship her. But Anja doesn't just want protection. She wants power. Every corrupted warrior she purifies makes her stronger. Every Hive Core she absorbs pushes her abilities further. And every Consort she claims adds a new weapon to her arsenal. Her ex wanted her to be nothing. Too bad for him-she's about to become everything.

Just think about it. As frontiers go, this is probably the most final of them all, not because it may be the last frontier, but because as long as we try to cross it and explore it, we take it with us. No matter how far we go, the frontier will always be just that much ahead of us, tantalizing our curiosities. Thus, we can never really cross it in so far as just push it back a little. The universe is so vast, so immense, we can never expect to explore it all. It is in effect, not so much a final frontier as an ultimate frontier; the ultimate frontier – as wide as it is deep. Stars shine coldly in the unimaginable blackness. Out of the darkness, a tiny speck caught the distant light of stars – a tiny gray speck that, as it moved, seemed to grow larger, catching the light just so until it revealed itself to be a ship. Mykl d’Angelo groaned where he sat slumped in his chair. The irritating noise was unsettling his pet dog lying on his lap. The wickerwork garden chair creaked pleasantly under him and some native Earth birds made pleasant sounds above while the cool wind wafted over him as he lazily … Wait-a-minute!

The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time. Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]" My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize. It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me. He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard. My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug. But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me. The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it. "This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire. Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman. Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off." She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin.

A teenager became an experimental subject in a secret laboratory established by a country that was forbidden to cultivate. After he left the experimental base, he broke the restrictions and obtained an independent personality. Since then, in this great era of interstellar development, he has fought in all directions, stepped on the galaxy, and finally opened a new era for mankind.

Ava stepped off the jet, eager to finally hug her daughter, Lily, after eighteen months away on a critical mission. A familiar face, her handler, handed her a tablet, saying, "Welcome home, Ava. Everything is ready for your debriefing tomorrow. Tonight is yours." Her eyes immediately landed on a headline: "Tech Prodigy Lily Thorne Exposed as Fraud, Groundbreaking AI Code Auctioned Off by Estranged Husband Mark Vance." And then the photo. Lily, bound to a chair on a brightly lit stage, her face pale, a mixture of shock and utter devastation. Her estranged son-in-law, Mark Vance, stood beside a woman Ava didn' t recognize-his new fiancée, Chloe. He was sneering into the camera, declaring Lily would be finished, blacklisted, her future one of "menial jobs and constant public humiliation." The tablet shattered in Ava' s hand, cracks spiderwebbing across the screen. Her blood ran cold. The rage was a physical force, shimmering in the air around her. How could he do this? How could a man she once trusted betray her daughter so completely, so publicly? This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an execution. "The mission isn' t over," Ava declared, her voice unnaturally calm, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the horrified handler. "It just began."

The acrid smell of disinfectant and old wax assaulted my seventy-year-old nose. One moment, I was Butcher Betty, cleaver in hand, surrounded by the familiar scent of my shop. The next, I was a stranger in a sterile, enormous kitchen, wearing a stiff uniform, feather duster in my hand. Then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed directly inside my head: "Transmigration successful. Welcome, Host 734." My new identity: Betty, the cruel and sycophantic housekeeper of the Anderson family, tasked with following a novel' s plot. My first directive: lock eight-year-old Liam, the biological son, in the dark, damp basement without dinner to solidify my loyalty to the adopted son, Kevin. I looked at the small, terrified boy cowering in the corner, his eyes wide with a wariness that shouldn' t be in a child. This wasn' t a character. This was a scared, hungry kid. The system blared warnings, demanding I adhere to the script, that I become the villain. But I was a butcher. I fed people. I didn't starve them. "The plot can go to hell," I muttered, grabbing a saucepan. "This boy is getting a hot meal."

In the sprawling megalopolis of Erythra Prime, a city where advanced technology merges with ancient mysticism, a detective named Kael Ardent is thrust into a labyrinthine conspiracy that blurs the boundaries of reality. The sudden murder of a high-ranking diplomat sparks a chain of events that leads Kael to uncover a secret society, a mythical artifact known as the Crimson Nexus, and a shadowy figure who holds the power to rewrite existence itself. As Kael teams up with Nyssa Vahn, a rogue technomancer with her own hidden agenda, they navigate the neon-lit streets, delve into forbidden ruins, and fight against cybernetic assassins and interdimensional entities. With time running out, Kael and Nyssa must unravel the secrets of the Nexus before it falls into the wrong hands and annihilates everything they know.

Celine is an assistant scientist to the genius but coldhearted Dr. Drake Cole. The doctor happened to specialize in quantum physics and time travel. He invented time travel gadgets that will allow humans to travel back and forth through time. It's a portable device compared to a bulky time machine. She's the only assistant who's willing to test these time travel gadgets. Her reason is that she would like to go back to the past where she wants to save the love of her life. He was murdered but the suspect was not convicted. She wants to bring him back to life so that she can be with her college sweetheart once again. Little did she know that Dr. Cole is keeping a secret that is related to her past. That's why he is against the idea of her going back to the past to test the gadget. She's very persistent and willing to do anything just to change the past of her lover. But it's against the rule of time travel and they will both have to face the consequences of their actions. Will Celine be successful in changing her lover's past? Or will she end up falling for the genius scientist in the present? She will be confused but don't care even if time can affect what will happen to her future. All she knows is that she has to go back to the past so that she can move on and live in her present.

My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar. I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud. Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me. He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad. The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining. Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self. My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger. Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine? Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?" My breath caught. My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever. The game was about to change.

I felt a slight pressure applied around my waist. First, I didn't pay attention to it, as my whole focus was on nearly dying girl in front of me. It got tighter and I felt a warmth of air hit my abs through fabric. My gaze fell on the unknown source nearly under me. Laura. Her hands wrapped around me, her face buried in to the fabric covering my stomach. I felt her hot breath hitting me hard, her small form shaking. It appeared to me, that she was crying, her sobs - silent. "Please! Let her go.... Don't be sad......" she squeezed me tighter. Sad? I was not..... My head moved up. In the dark brown glass decor, I saw my face. I felt mad, angry and all kind of other emotions, but the only one visible was the sorrow and pain. The expression I have never seen on myself before. It looked so foreign, I looked so strange in my own eyes. "Please don't kill my friend, Bryce! ..... Please.....please..... please stop it...." From the shock, I released Sharlene's ...