What if you were forced to grow up faster than you ever imagined? Would you be able to survive it? This is Life Pal follows 18-year-old Jordan as she faces life's hardest events-family secrets, heartbreak, and the weight of responsibility.
What if you were forced to grow up faster than you ever imagined? Would you be able to survive it? This is Life Pal follows 18-year-old Jordan as she faces life's hardest events-family secrets, heartbreak, and the weight of responsibility.
It had never been this quiet in the past few years. Well, not continuously quiet-just in moments. Let me remember: yes, it had been quiet when she finished elementary school, and again after her first four years of high school. Those were milestones, moments of calm before the next storm of life swept her forward. Now, after a long stretch of uncertainty, the quiet was back. But this time, it felt different. Heavier.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock. The results of her final exams were due today. Those results would determine everything-whether she'd get into Evergreen University, whether she'd fulfill her parents' dreams for her, whether she'd finally step into the future she'd been working toward.
She hadn't slept well. How could she? All night, her thoughts had spiraled. What if I didn't do well enough? What if I let everyone down? What if I'm not ready for this? The questions looped endlessly, keeping her awake long after Beth and Benji had drifted off to sleep in their rooms down the hall. Even now, in the early morning light, the weight of those "what ifs" pressed down on her chest.
She glanced at her desk, where her laptop sat closed, waiting to deliver the news. Took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Today was the day. The quiet wouldn't last much longer.
A knock on the door. Sharp and impatient.
"Jordan, will you stay there forever?" her mom called from the other side.
Jordan sighed, dragging herself off the bed. "Good morning, Mom."
"We need your student ID number, Jordan," her mom said, her voice clipped.
"My number? I thought you guys had it," Jordan replied, leaning against the door.
"Oh, yes, darling, we had it. You gave it to us, right? I must be crazy to ask for it now, right, darling?" Her mom's tone was laced with sarcasm.
Jordan rolled her eyes but stayed silent.
The doorknob rattled. "Open this door, Jordan. I don't have all day. I need your student ID number now," her mom said, her voice firm and no-nonsense.
"What if I lost it, Mom? I can't seem to find it anywhere," Jordan said, playing for time.
Her mom breathed sharply. "Jordan, you're testing my patience. Open this door now."
Jordan scratched her brow, hesitating. She didn't want to get on her mom's bad side, especially not that morning. Reluctantly, she unlocked the door.
"Mom," she flashed a smile-the kind you'd recognize instantly, sweet but slightly mischievous.
Her mom mirrored the smile, though hers was tighter, more strained. "You finally opened the door, darling. That's nice of you." She barged inside, her eyes scanning the room. "Now, where is it?"
Jordan kept the smile plastered on her face.
"Don't give me that smile, darling. I'm not liking it," her mom said, though the corners of her own lips twitched. Like mother like daughter.
"There's this wise saying, Mom," Jordan said, still smiling. "As thou wouldst that men should do to thee, do ye also to them likewise."
Her mom's smile faded, replaced by a stern expression. Jordan looked down, unable to meet her mom's gaze.
"Miss Jordan Carter," her mom said, stepping closer. "By the time I'm back, make sure you've put your act together. If not..."
She turned to leave, but Jordan couldn't resist. "If not?"
Her mom paused, glancing over her shoulder with a look that could freeze water.
"I understand, Mom," Jordan said quickly, her voice small.
"Good."
Jordan let out a huge sigh as her mom left the room. Mom can be scary sometimes. I wish she were more like Dad.
She walked to the window, watching as her mom climbed into a waiting taxi. The car pulled away, and Jordan finally felt like she could breathe again. She made her bed, fixed her hair, and changed into a pair of jeans.
Why haven't I heard these brats yet? she wondered, glancing toward the door. Guess they're-
The sound of shattering glass cut through the silence.
"Benji, I told you to get your own glass. Now look at what you've done!" Beth's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.
Benji stood amidst the shards of glass, his arms crossed defiantly. "What have I done? It's all your doing! I saw the glass first."
Beth rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, I held it first, not you. Actions are better than observations."
"That's unfair! You're even saying it wrong," Benji protested, his face scrunching up in frustration.
Beth stepped closer, towering over him with a smirk. "Then tell me how it should be."
"Actions are better than words," Benji said, enunciating each word as if speaking to a toddler.
Beth laughed, ruffling his hair. "Little brother, I'm sorry, but I'm such a genius that now I'm making my own words."
"Genius? You call that genius? Genius, my foot, Beth!" Benji shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
Beth's smirk widened. "You mole, you'd better show some respect. I'm years older than you."
"Mole? How dare you call me-"
"A mole?" Beth interrupted, her tone dripping with mockery. "You look like one, that's why. Didn't Mom tell you?"
Oh, it had never even once crossed their Mom's mind.
Benji's face turned red, and he breathed heavily, trying to hold back tears. "Shut up, Beth! I look like Daddy!"
He really did look like his dad-dark brown eyes that always seemed full of curiosity, and messy, dark hair that never quite stayed in place. His face had the same strong jaw, even if it wasn't as sharp as his dad's yet, and sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he could see the grown-up version of himself. He was still too young to understand everything about his dad, but he could see little pieces of him in the way he smiled or the way he walked, like a preview of who he might grow up to be.
Beth burst into laughter. "A mole thinks he looks like Daddy."
Benji's lip quivered, and he wiped at his eyes. "Big sis..."
"Go on, mole. Call your big sis," Beth teased, clearly enjoying herself.
"Yes, I will! Big sis is always nice to me, unlike you," Benji said, his voice trembling as he wiped his tears. "And if I'm a mole, you are-"
"I'm what?" Beth challenged, leaning in closer.
"You are-"
"I'm what? Say it if you dare."
Benji hesitated, then muttered, "You are my sister."
"Bravo," Jordan said, stepping into the room with a slow clap. "You did great, Benji."
Benji's face lit up, and he ran to Jordan, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.
"It's always nice to treat others in a good way, even though they don't," she said. "For not calling your sister names, I award you a candy."
Benji's eyes sparkled. " Thanks Jordan."
Beth tried to storm away.
"Stop there Beth, we need to talk."
Beth froze mid-step, her shoulders tense. She turned slowly, her face a mix of defiance and guilt. "What's there to talk about? He's the one who started it," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Jordan raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but firm. "Beth, you know better than to call your brother names. It doesn't matter who started it. What matters is how you choose to respond."
Beth rolled her eyes but didn't argue further. She shuffled her feet, avoiding Jordan's gaze. Benji, still clutching his candy, peeked out from behind Jordan. "I'm sorry, Beth," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
Beth's expression softened, though she tried to hide it. "Whatever," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its earlier edge. She glanced at Benji, then at Jordan, before sighing. "Fine. I'm sorry too, okay?"
"That's more like it," said Jordan. "How about we all go inside and share that candy? I think there's enough for everyone."
Benji's face lit up. "Really? Can we, Beth?"
Beth hesitated, then shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I guess. But only if I get the biggest piece."
"Hey, no fair!" Benji protested, but he was grinning now too.
These two were a handful, sure, but they were her handful. Her little siblings. The ones who broke her things, ate her snacks, and somehow always managed to drag her into their silly arguments. But they were also the ones who made her laugh when she was stressed, who hugged her tightly when she was sad, and who looked up to her like she hung the moon.
My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.
"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?
Kathryn was the true daughter, but Jolene stole her life and set her up for ruin. After a brutal kidnapping scheme, Kathryn's loyalty to her brothers and fiancé was met with cruel betrayal. Narrowly escaping, she chose to cut all ties and never forgive them. Then she shocked the world: the miracle doctor for the elite, a top-tier hacker, a financial mastermind, and now the untouchable star her family could only watch from afar. Her brothers begged, her parents pleaded, her ex wanted her back-Kathryn exposed them all. The world gasped as the richest man confessed his love for her.
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."
Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.
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