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.
Ten years ago, Elizabeth Kaiser was abandoned by her biological father, cast out of her home like a stray dog. A decade later, she returned as a decorated general of Nation A, wielding immense power and wealth beyond measure. The onlookers waited eagerly for her downfall, only to watch in shock as the elite families of Capitol City bowed before her in reverence. Elizabeth smirked coldly. "Want to chase me? Better ask my fists for permission first!"
Isabelle's love for Kolton held flawless for fifteen years-until the day she delivered their children and slipped into a coma. He leaned to her ear and whispered, "Don't wake up. You're worthless to me now." The twins later clutched another woman's hand and chirped, "Mommy," splintering Isabelle's heart. She woke, filed for divorce, and disappeared. Only then did Kolton notice her fingerprints on every habit. They met again: she emerged as the lead medical specialist, radiant and unmoved. But at her engagement gala, she leapt into a tycoon's arms. Jealous, he crushed a glass, blood wetting his palm. He believed as soon as he made a move, Isabelle would return to him. After all, she had loved him deeply.
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
On the day of their wedding anniversary, Joshua's mistress drugged Alicia, and she ended up in a stranger's bed. In one night, Alicia lost her innocence, while Joshua's mistress carried his child in her womb. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alicia demanded a divorce, but Joshua saw it as yet another tantrum. When they finally parted ways, she went on to become a renowned artist, sought out and admired by everyone. Consumed by regret, Joshua darkened her doorstep in hopes of reconciliation, only to find her in the arms of a powerful tycoon. "Say hello to your sister-in-law."
Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
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