I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes. My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change. But…. Why is he in my room? I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone. “Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?” He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..? Then my memories began to flood back. —it’s a damn golden sofa. Shit. Brain Freeze. ~~~ Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson. Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago. They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value. But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family. Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate. And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.
View More~~~~Eric froze in place, staring down at the woman beneath him. This was the first time since their wedding that he was really seeing her up close. Her plush lips—he had never noticed just how enticing they looked until now. Damn, he felt an undeniable pull toward them.He could feel her heart racing against his chest, its rapid tempo echoing in his ears. She was warm and vibrantly alive. He raised his eyes to her face, noting the shocked expression carved there.Was she scared? Excited? He couldn't quite tell, but the way her heart pounded made it clear she sensed what was about to happen.Just then, Mrs. Lola's voice broke through from outside the library. Eric felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful for the distraction because if he hadn’t been interrupted, he might have done something impulsive. But before he could respond to her—“Yes… for Pete’s sake, just come in, will you?” Mary yelled, her
~~~~The next morning, I woke up with a resolve fit for a nation. Now that Eric wanted to cut the whole thing off, it was time for me to move out. With the money in my account, I could do a lot, but I needed to disappear before James came for me.Ignoring Mrs. Lola, who stared at me with a mix of concern and curiosity, I stormed off, brushing aside her offer of help. “I can take care of my own things,” I murmured to myself, the determination surging within me.“No doubt you can.” A male voice resounded from the corridor.Turning, I found Eric standing there, his glorious morning cuteness disarming even in my fury. “Morning,” I managed to say, forcing myself to focus on packing.“Morning,” he replied, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Are you going somewhere?”I shot him a glare. “What do you mean, ‘if I’m going somewhere? We were supposed to be in New York
~~~~Nora Black collapsed to the floor, wine spilling everywhere as she struggled to process what she’d just witnessed. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. “What… did… I just…?” she murmured, glancing around the empty room. She slapped her own cheek lightly, wondering if this was real or some drunken hallucination.After drinking herself into a stupor, Nora had braced herself for the brutal truths she expected Mary—and the press—to expose. But what she heard instead shocked her to the core.“No. My marriage into the Black family is not a scam.” Mary had declared live.At first, she couldn’t believe it. She leaned in closer to the TV, turning up the volume just to make sure she hadn’t misheard. This was indeed a live broadcast, and the world was watching Mary’s violent stand against that redheaded journalist, Rachel Berry.Her fearlessness and poise left Nora stunned, almost instantly sobering her up as her phone began to buzz nonstop.Call after call, reporters from all over w
Continuation...There’s no way I’m letting someone like her bring me down. I smiled at her—but it wasn’t the kind of smile that warms hearts. Not by a long, short.“I’ve heard stories about you—the journalist who stops at nothing for a scoop. Once you latch onto a story, you hold on tight. I have to admit, I respect your commitment, but I can’t stand people like you who take pleasure in tearing others down.” I scanned the room, the cameras still focused on me. “You’re meant to bring truth and life into focus, not to shatter families or lives. Your constant invasion of privacy has devastated countless lives, leaving them unable to recover. Actors can’t truly be themselves; they can’t love freely or chase their dreams because they live in fear of what you’ll publish about them.” I snapped. “All for a damn paycheck. Maybe I should grab a camera myself, thanks to m
~~~~But the media wasn’t the only one on edge; Eric and Nora Black were perched on the edge of their seats as they each watched the big screen from their respective homes. They knew that if the world were to find out about what they had done, it would spell disaster for their family for generations to come.The moment the press asked Mary about her marriage to the Blacks, Nora felt her heart leap into her throat. “No… I can’t watch this,” she said, pushing herself up from her seat. “Or I’ll die of a heart attack. I can’t believe I trusted her enough to choose her. I thought she was different. How could she do this to me?” she cursed. “I’m going to ruin her,” she swore, storming over to the bar. Pouring herself a drink—one that was high in alcohol—she muttered, “If this whole thing doesn’t kill me, I hope this wine does,” before downing the entire bottle.In Ca
~~~~~I laughed, relishing the sound of his anger on the other end. “Woo, brother, calm down. No need to shout,” James said, his voice taunting. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t kidnap or drag her as you’re thinking—she came with me of her own free will.”A long silence stretched from the other end. “Nonsense… My wife would never—” Eric’s voice started, but James cut him off.“Wife?” James laughed the sound sharp and mocking. “Please. You and I both know she’s not really your wife. She admitted it to me, and now, soon enough, the whole world will know.”Another silence, but this time there was a tension in it. Eric’s voice, wary, asked, “What are you talking about, James? What do you mean the whole world will know?”Bastard, I cursed inwardly as I yanked the phone from James's ear. “What he means, assho
Continuation****James pushed the car to its limits, speeding through the empty streets to make it to the press conference on time. His phone buzzed relentlessly, but he refused to let it break his focus. He glanced at the caller ID—Eric, of course—but ignored it. When he did answer briefly, he remained silent, waiting for Eric to give up before the line went dead.Beside him in the passenger seat sat Mary, his brother's so-called wife, quiet and unreadable. He cast a quick look at her, thoughts churning. She’d agreed to help him, and for that, he was grateful—or maybe just lucky. But how far could he actually trust her? Once the truth came out, she’d be useless to him. She’d already sold Eric out without a second thought; he wondered, with a bitter smirk, how quickly she’d turn on him too if the price was right. He could see her for what she was—a hustler, someone born from the streets, loyal only t
~~~~I pulled on black leather pants, a fitted turtleneck, and high-top black sneakers. My hair hung loose down my back as I made my way downstairs, feeling nothing but a cold emptiness. I handed James a slip of paper with my bank details. “Here’s my account number. You said five times the pay, right?”“Right.” He gave me a questioning look. “So, does that mean I was right about everything?”I let out a low laugh. “I don’t know, James… why don’t you find out? But before we go anywhere, I want my account filled. Now.”He smirked, but I could see the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Fine. I’ll pay you ten billion dollars—half now, half when you’re done.”Ten billion. If he could casually throw out that amount, I knew he had much more stashed away. “Fifteen billion,” I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. “And I want the full amount upfront. I don’t trust you.”He gritted his teeth but nodded. “Fine. But we need to leave now.” He looked around, nervous, as if someone was watching.“
~~~~I wasn’t thinking of anything as I made my way down the hall. My head was foggy, my mind blank. What was there to think about? Eric and I didn’t like each other; we could barely tolerate one another’s presence. I had been hired to play the part of his wife, and now that he’d told me to quit, I was ready to walk away. Sure, I might not find another gig that paid this well, but the money they owed me would help me get started for a while. Maybe I’d even try my hand at acting for real. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be a start.Hurrying back to my room, I felt hot tears streaming down my face, and I couldn’t stop them. Why did it hurt so much? His words shouldn’t have affected me; they shouldn’t have meant anything. But they did.I collapsed onto my bed and cried my eyes out. From that moment on, everything changed between us. We barely spoke, didn’t eat together, and avoided looking each other in the eye. I stayed holed up in my room, only venturing out for fresh air. This silen
~~~~~Being the first child of a Chicago farmer isn’t exactly a walk in the park.Picture this: Heartaches, body pains, barely enough food to go round, the constant struggles to stay sane, and the daily grind of farm life. It’s like living in a soap opera, but with more mud and fewer dramatic pauses.I’m Mary Johnson, the proud firstborn of Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson.My parents are the epitome of hardworking citizens: devoted Christians who places a value on big and small things.We live in what you might call a "charming" little cottage that’s really more of a glorified shed, and a tiny patch of farmland not too far from the bright lights of Illinois.We weren’t rolling in dough, but hey, we had just enough to keep the pantry stocked. Well, that was the case until my siblings came into the picture.Lisa and Lora weren’t twins, but they sure look and act like it. They’ve won the admiration of everyone around them because of how brave and intelligent they were.Honestly, though, once ...
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