Why Do I Even Bother

Grávida de nove meses, fui feita refém no último andar do prédio por Afonso, um ex-funcionário que guardava rancor por ter sido substituído pelo meu marido no trabalho. Ele me esfaqueou dezenas de vezes. Meu marido, José Rocha, capitão da equipe de resgate, direcionou todos os recursos para salvar sua primeira namorada, Cecília, que, em depressão, ameaçava incendiar seu apartamento alugado. Eu não pedi que ele viesse me salvar. Na vida passada, por ter ligado para ele pedindo socorro, José largou Cecília para me resgatar. Eu e o bebê sobrevivemos, mas Cecília morreu no incêndio que ela própria provocou. José, na aparência, não me culpou. Reservou uma suíte VIP na maternidade para mim. Mas, justamente no dia do parto, ele me amarrou e, diante de mim e do nosso bebê, desferiu dezenas de facadas! – Naquele dia, você e o sequestrador me enganaram juntos, não foi? Seus ferimentos eram superficiais! Você nunca ia morrer! – Já que você gosta tanto de ser esfaqueada, eu faço esse favor pra você! Quando abri os olhos novamente, voltei ao dia em que fui sequestrada. Desta vez, decidi deixá-lo ir salvar a primeira namorada.

O CEO bilionário Killian Blackwood estava em busca dos genes perfeitos. Ele ofereceu uma recompensa gigantesca por uma barriga de aluguel. Dez bilhões de dólares por um bebê. Mas as 77 mulheres antes de mim haviam todas desaparecido. Afogada em dívidas, eu não tive escolha. Cerrei os dentes e me tornei a número 78. Carreguei o filho dele por dez meses. Dei à luz. E não desapareci. Mas quando estendi a mão para o meu bebê, pronta para receber meus dez bilhões de dólares, explodi em lágrimas de terror. Meu recém-nascido não era humano. Era uma ninhada de três filhotes de lobo.

Grávida de nove meses, vi a amada do meu marido se mudar para a nossa casa com uma desculpa qualquer. Ela fingia sofrimento sempre que me via, e ele me acusava de exibir a barriga só para provocá-la. — A Rafa já sofre demais! E você ainda exibe essa barriga enorme só pra machucar! Só vai aprender se eu te der uma lição. — Rosnou ele, com frieza. Sem hesitar, mandou me trancar no sótão e proibiu qualquer um de me trazer comida. Supliquei, dizendo que os gêmeos estavam grandes, que o médico havia pedido minha internação urgente, pois o parto podia acontecer a qualquer momento. Mas ele apenas riu como se eu estivesse contando alguma piada tola. — Ainda faltam três dias pro parto. Não inventa desculpa para escapar! Vai pro sótão pensar bem no que você fez! Isso é o mínimo, depois do que fez com a Rafa! — Ele insistiu, ignorando completamente a minha dor. No sótão escuro, gritei até minhas unhas se quebrarem na porta. No silêncio sufocante, as contrações rasgavam meu corpo, cada onda de dor parecia não ter fim. Coberta de sangue, exausta e ainda presa, percebi que meu filho não sobreviveria. Três dias depois, enquanto tentava tomar um mingau, meu marido, já incomodado, comentou com desprezo: — Manda a Joyce descer para me preparar o mingau, e depois vá pedir desculpas à Rafa. Se ela pedir de um jeito decente, pode até levar ela pro hospital na hora de parir. Mas ninguém respondeu, pois o sangue já escorria do sótão, degrau por degrau, inundando a casa num silêncio mais aterrador que qualquer grito.

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

During the eight years I spent by Alpha David’s side, I also raised the pup he had with my late sister. At his birthday banquet, I accidentally wore one of her old dresses. Eight-year-old Dorian grabbed a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured it over me— right in front of the maids. The scalding liquid burned my skin, and when I looked up, I saw the same cold disgust in his eyes that I’d seen so many times in his father’s. “How dare you wear my mother’s dress?” he sneered. “You’ll never replace her. You killed her with that wicked heart of yours!” The coffee seared more than my flesh. It burned straight through my heart. I looked at the child I’d raised for eight long years. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t even feel sad. Only a quiet kind of exhaustion. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

On the day she was supposed to get married to claim her inheritance, Alicia Hodge was publicly dumped and humiliated by the man she loved. With nothing left but her shattered pride, she makes a reckless decision… She marries a stranger. What she doesn’t know? Her new husband isn’t just any man, he’s an untouchable billionaire tycoon.. They agree not to know each other’s identity until he becomes dangerously obsessed with her. As Alicia steps into malicious city of Dew City determined to make it to the top, she wonders why everything is suddenly too easily until Derek Hayne makes a social media post. “My wife is a little emotional, for your sakes, don’t offend her.”

Chance takes another drink of beer and points his finger at Alex. "I bet you can't." Alex doesn't understand why they think it is such a big deal. He can go without s*x if he wanted to. He just doesn't want to. What is so wrong with that? They should be thankful. It keeps him entertained and relaxed. Alex points his finger back at him. "I bet I can." Will Alex find it as easy as he thinks it will be to win the bet? Or will he run into some obstacles along the way? One of which is a tan muscular man who is willing to help Alex with whatever Alex needs, but is the man's help to win the bet or to win Alex?

The heart that I had waited two years for was given to the fake heiress, Diane Bishop, by my husband. The doctor said that I only had a week left to live. So, I decided to undergo cryonics. I donated my body to Diane’s workshop. The day I signed the donation papers, my son threw himself into my arms and exclaimed that I had finally made up with Diane. My parents praised me for finally being a good sister to help out Diane. My husband was pleased when he said that I had finally let go of the grudge and had become more understanding. I chuckled. They were right, I had finally learned my lesson. I would give Diane my identity as the heir of Bishop Corporation and fulfill everyone’s wishes.

"I loved that I fell for you but I hated that I was your second. That second which always comes after first!" Lilian Evans got married to Richard Tucker after his first wife died. She couldn't keep her heart in place despite his rude and ignorant behaviour. Things got a little overboard and now she was stuck at a point of no return. How would Lilian unfold her life in chaos with the responsibility of being a mother? "Touching others' belongings without consent! You know that is bad manner, right?" Lilian turned in the direction of the voice only to find her husband standing there in the ebony rich suit, his tie a little loose as he gazed right into her soul. "Oh... Yeah, sorry. I was just-" "Your room is at the end of this hallway, closer to Aid's," he said, taking off his coat and not minding to let his bride complete her sentence.

For someone who nearly dies because of an accident that wipes the memories of her 23 years of existence - the only thing that Sammia Avileigh can do is to depend on everything that her family told her. With the help and support from them, she did her best to live a normal life. She follows everything that her parents told her about who she was, what she likes, what she does, what she wants, what's her favorite, how she dresses, what she hates, and what she's not good at. A year later, she finally recovers, she's happy with her life despite forgetting those memories that define her. But her almost perfect life turns upside down when she saw a strange note on the empty abandoned room on the back of their house. 'Aliano Silvanus Rivvero, you need to kill him. Remember that.' What does the note mean? Why does she feel like it is connected to her? And if that's the case- why would she kill the man she is bound to marry? The man that she really likes, according to her parents? They say a memory can be a star or a stain, and Sammia Avileigh didn't know that the latter defines her lost memories. And that's, what they will never let her know...