TomTommiy

How can I not be annoyed? While I was busy taking care of my assignments that made my head want to burst, my mom cruelly wanted to set me up with someone! Geez, my mom is weird and annoying. If my candidate is someone I love like my boyfriend, maybe I'm still okay with it. But this... My mom even baited me to a man whose age gap with me is far different. Whoever it is, please help me!

Sarka didn't know what was wrong with him. Ever since he got an eye donor from someone else, he felt strange things started to come to him one by one. Like being able to see scary ghosts, being attacked by nightmares all night long that make him wake up in the middle of the night, until the most awkward and strange thing, every nightmare that comes, he always finds someone's name written in blood in his personal notebook. Actually, what is going on? Sarka's mind wondered. His fear grew when the names of the people written in blood in his notebook, the next day died tragically.

A boy with an ice-cold nature named Alizter made Morin curious to death. Why is that boy so closed off and so difficult to approach? Morin felt curious, she wanted to approach Alizter, but it wasn't as easy as she imagined. There is something going on with Alizter, and Morin wants to get to know that cold boy even more. Morin only hoped that she didn't go too far and make a mistake.

Can we like someone we just met? Lucy feels that way, she's just met a cute guy on the rooftop of the mall, and she instantly likes him. What should Lucy do? Should she confess to him that she has a crush on him? But, what if he stays away because of her confession?

"How many glasses did you drink? Your mouth smells really bad, you know?" Cakra asked with one hand covering his nose and mouth. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Rape me first, then I'll answer how much I drank," Inez replied incoherently. This made Cakra even more annoyed because the girl continued to discuss issues that were very sensitive to Cakra's ears. "I'm not asking!"

"I like you because you look like Elgi." Elgo's brow furrowed even further, "Elgi?" "Why?" Sia asked. "Who is he?" "You don't need to know who Elgi is, he's gone now. I'm with you now anyway." Elgo nodded again, but somehow he still didn't feel relieved, his mouth wanted to keep asking questions. "So you want to be my girlfriend because I look like the boy you mentioned earlier?"

Just an ordinary story about a boy who secretly loves a girl who is too hard to reach, too vague to reach, and too difficult to embrace. He was too persistent to give up on getting her heart. But is he still that way when his only hope fades away?

Weeby knew that Marcell was an annoying boy. His daily job was to annoy her. Unfortunately, Marcell was in the same class as Weeby, and that boy also doubles as a peer. However, when Resti arrived. A sorting student from another class, Weeby was annoyed by one fact that she knew from Resti. There is one very important fact that Resti is hiding from Marcell, a fact that will plunge the boy into the trap that Resti has set. How can Weeby tell Marcell about it? On the other hand, she was sick to death of his behavior. But, if Weeby doesn't tell him what Resti is hiding, Marcell will be in grave danger.

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

​An accidental night of passion between Elena Vance and Cillian Thorne, the undisputed king of power in the capital, resulted in an unexpected pregnancy. However, Elena's envious sister, consumed by greed, stole her identity and successfully positioned herself as Cillian's true love. Elena was cast aside and branded a manipulative social climber who used a pregnancy to trap a man who loathed her. ​On their wedding night, while Elena was heavily pregnant, Cillian heartlessly sent her to the operating table. Despite her desperate pleas for the sake of their unborn child, Cillian remained cold: "You aren't worthy of carrying my legacy." He tormented her relentlessly until Elena "died" right before his eyes in a tragic accident. ​Four years later... Elena returns to the city, radiant, successful, and accompanied by a brilliant young child. Only then does Cillian realize he had been blinded by lies Elena was the woman he had been searching for all along. ​The once ruthless and tyrannical Cillian Thorne now kneels in the rain, clutching a diamond ring. "Elena, I was wrong. Let me take you and our child home." ​She only offers a frigid smile and looks down at her son. "Look closely, darling. Remember this face. This is the monster who wanted to kill you before you were even born."

She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him. It was all a lie. No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way. But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret. Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again.

I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing. During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me. I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst. She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side. "Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house." I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip. My heart went completely dead. So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate. I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table. "I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency. I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist. The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed. He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset. "I'm going to make him wish he had never been born." After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground.

My stepmother’s bodyguards were seconds away from dragging me back to a life that was essentially a prison cell wrapped in silk. I couldn't even scream for help because the words always died in my throat—a clinical condition called selective mutism that felt like drowning on dry land. I had just discovered the sickening truth: my father was planning to sell me to a sleazy investor named Sterling to cover his company’s bankruptcy. They were going to drug me, ship me off to a private island, and strip away the only thing I had left—my late mother’s multimillion-dollar art trust. When I arrived at the manor, my stepmother Lydia handed me a glass of wine laced with bitter sedatives, her smile sharp as a razor. "Drink up, darling. It’ll make the transition to Mr. Sterling much easier." My stepsister Harper stood in the corner, wearing a dress bought with my mother’s stolen money, mocking my inability to speak. My father didn't even look me in the eye as he calculated my price tag, treating his own daughter like a piece of damaged, mute inventory. They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't hear them laughing about the "accident" that killed my mother or how they planned to burn her final restoration work. They assumed my silence was a sign of surrender, a white flag waved by a broken girl who would never fight back. How could the people who were supposed to be my family treat me like a commodity to be traded? Did they really think my silence meant I was weak, or that I didn't know every dirty secret they were hiding in their ledgers? I didn't drink the wine. Instead, I burst into the VIP suite of Carlisle Pierce, the most cold-blooded billionaire in New York, and slammed a crumpled napkin on his table with a desperate, last-second gambit. "MARRY ME. NOW. $1 MILLION."

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

For three years, I played the perfect, obedient wife to the Carlyle-Spencer family, enduring my mother-in-law's icy commands to clean up my husband's messes. But when I went to a high-end bar to bring him home, I found him intimately laughing with Britany, the sister of his deceased first love. She was even wearing a replica of her sister's famous diamond necklace, a blatant provocation aimed right at me. Instead of feeling guilty, my husband looked at me with pure disgust. "Who the hell told you to come here? Don't make a scene." He whispered those venomous words before turning his back on me to escort her home, leaving me to be publicly mocked as the discarded wife. When I calmly handed him a divorce agreement, he laughed in my face. He set an impossible condition, demanding I get both our traditional grandfathers to sign off on it, thinking I was just a desperate woman playing a game. His mother even locked us in the master suite, demanding I provide the family with an heir to fix the scandal. They all thought I was a nobody clinging to their wealth, a fragile doll they could manipulate, trap, and humiliate at will. They didn't know my grandfather had hidden a secret clause in our prenup. Because of Julian's emotional infidelity, I had the right to unilaterally dissolve the marriage and take back my massive dowry with interest. I calmly packed up my hidden Stanford robotics PhD research and prepared to leave this gilded cage, ready to watch his arrogant world crumble.