Hua Luoluo
17 Published Stories
Hua Luoluo's Books and Stories
The Don's Betrayal, My Unstoppable Rise
Mafia For seven years, I was the perfect, silent wife to Dante De Luca, the Don of the Chicago Outfit. Our marriage was a contract, signed only because his true love, Isabella, left him at the altar.
Then, she came back.
He made me watch as he chose her, again and again. He took her into a dark closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven, emerging with a fresh love bite on her neck. Then, she framed me for stealing her diamond necklace.
"She's a thief, Dante, just like her mother!" Isabella wailed.
My husband didn't hesitate. He shoved me against a table and had his men throw me into the family's private holding cell. He knew it was a setup, but he still called me trash, not fit to clean her shoes.
I finally understood. I was never his wife. I was just a "low-cost placeholder," a body in his bed until Isabella returned. I was disposable.
So when I was finally released, I walked away. His biggest rival was waiting for me with a job offer: Chief Design Director. I would compete against Dante for the city's biggest contract, using the very architectural designs he stole from me and gave to his mistress. I would build an empire on the ashes of his pride. The Ruined Heiress's Fake Pregnancy Bargain
Modern Clare woke up to a frozen bank account, a bankrupt family empire, and a suicide note from her father.
To save her father from jumping off a skyscraper, she cornered New York's most ruthless billionaire, Edward Carlisle, with a fake pregnancy test.
"I'm carrying your child."
She bet everything on a brief encounter from a yacht party weeks ago, hoping to force him into a marriage that would save her family.
But instead of offering a ring, the cold-blooded tycoon dragged her straight to a clinic to forcefully terminate the "problem."
Even after seeing through her desperate lie, Edward didn't let her go. He forced her into a humiliating contract marriage just to destroy his grandfather's arranged match.
He paid off a fraction of her family's billion-dollar debt—just enough to keep her on a tight leash, treating her like a cheap, disposable shield.
She was paraded in front of high society, forced to publicly ruin his engagement, and stripped of every ounce of her dignity.
She knew he planned to throw her away the second his family stopped pressuring him. Why should she just sit and wait to be discarded by this monster?
Wiping her tears, Clare looked into the eyes of the man who thought he completely owned her.
"Stop treating me like a liability."
She refused to be his obedient pawn. Instead, she proposed a dangerous new alliance to help him destroy his own family—and the real transaction officially began. Found Her Prenatal, Shredded Our Marriage
Romance I was ready to surprise my billionaire husband of five years with a positive pregnancy test.
But he came home reeking of cheap vanilla perfume, and the next day, I caught him at an exclusive OB-GYN clinic, tenderly holding his college ex-girlfriend.
She was pregnant. When I stood before them, he physically shielded her from me, coldly dismissing my genuine pregnancy nausea as a "pathetic, manipulative act."
When I confronted him at home, he didn't apologize. Instead, he screamed that I was a crazy, obsessive bitch.
"If your body wasn't so useless, maybe I wouldn't have had to find comfort somewhere else!"
He blamed his infidelity on my failure to give him an heir, slamming the door in my face while his mistress flaunted her victory.
He had no idea his own child was growing inside the very body he had just called barren and useless.
For five years, I had given up my brilliant career as the award-winning designer "Muse" to be his perfect, accommodating corporate wife. I had erased myself for him, only to be thrown away for a parasite.
The betrayal and humiliation burned away my despair, leaving only a cold, hard resolve.
I calmly wiped my tears, pawned the millions in diamonds he gave me to hire a ruthless private investigator, and decided to keep my pregnancy a secret.
Hartley wanted a war, and he was about to face the woman he forced me to bury. The Unwanted Wife Is A Secret Genius
Modern Hannah Compton sat in the oncologist's office, staring at a crisp medical report that read like a death sentence: stage two stomach cancer.
But the real fatal blow came moments later. Her billionaire husband, Branden, texted her a cold excuse about a late meeting, confirming the source of the sweet perfume she had smelled on his collar—her younger, illegitimate half-sister, Bailey.
For three years, Hannah had abandoned a brilliant career in AI medical research to be his perfect, invisible wife. Now, as a tumor violently twisted inside her, he was publicly parading her half-sister around and buying her million-dollar sapphires. When Hannah collapsed in agonizing pain on the marble floor of their mansion, Branden didn't call an ambulance.
"Stop acting. You're not getting my pity," he sneered, nudging her trembling body with his expensive shoe.
Lying there in the cold, the love she once had for him was surgically removed, replaced by a freezing void. She didn't understand how the man she sacrificed everything for could be so utterly heartless, but she knew exposing her deadly illness now would only give them ammunition to destroy her completely.
She didn't cry, and she didn't beg.
Instead, she swallowed her painkillers, secretly slipped a meticulously drafted divorce agreement into his unread corporate contracts to secure thirty million dollars, and prepared to burn his world to the ground. Bound By Contract: The Possessive CEO's Bride
Billionaires Kaylee's family was drowning in debt, and her stepmother locked her inside a freezing bedroom.
To save their bankrupt company, they decided to sell her off to a sixty-five-year-old man with a disgusting reputation.
They cut off her allowance and confiscated the only precious keepsake her dead mother had ever left her.
"Put on the engagement dress, or I will smash your mother's crystal box into a million pieces."
Terrified of the old man, Kaylee risked her life by jumping out of the second-story window into a violent storm.
She hit the muddy ground hard, twisting her ankle and tearing her skin on rusted iron gates as she escaped into the pitch-black night.
Dragging her bleeding bare feet across the cold sand, her lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass.
She didn't understand why she had to be the sacrifice for their endless greed, or how they could be so cruel as to hold her dead mother's memory hostage.
She had absolutely nowhere to go, and the old man's cars were already pulling into the estate to claim her.
Cornered by the blinding headlights of a motorcade on the beach, she threw herself at the feet of Ernest Blackwell, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
"Marry me! You need a wife, and I need a husband right now!"
To buy her freedom and crush the family that sold her, she chose to sign a twenty-million-dollar fake marriage contract with the devil himself. Bound To The Monster Who Ruined Me
Modern Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia.
Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed.
Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom.
"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes."
He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief.
Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness?
Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much. Mated To The Ruthless Savanna King
Fantasy I was a New York photographer, but I woke up under the brutal sun of the African savanna.
Worse, I wasn't human. I was trapped in the body of a male cheetah, with two starving cubs clinging to my fur, telepathically calling me "Mom."
But I am a real man!
To keep my adopted sons alive, I had to fight hyenas and dodge rogue lions. But the real nightmare was my bizarre survival mechanism. Under extreme threat, I would uncontrollably shift back into my human form-stark, undeniably naked. I was forced to sprint across the plains with my bare skin exposed, carrying two cubs while escaping furious lionesses. I became a freak, the most confusing and humiliating legend of the animal kingdom.
Covered in bloody scratches and mud, I was pushed to the brink of despair. Why was I thrown into this beast's body? Why did my only defense mechanism involve profound social death?
Just when I barely survived a cliff dive to escape the lions, my path was blocked by two massive, highly intelligent prime male cheetahs.
But the alpha, Bradley, didn't want to kill me for my territory.
His intense gaze raked over my naked, bleeding human body with a dark, possessive hunger.
"You are full of surprises."
He purred smoothly, teaching me to magically summon a fur skirt before demanding I join his coalition.
"Oh, you'll come to me. I guarantee it."
Looking into his predatory eyes, I realized I was no longer just surviving the wild; I was the prey of a completely different kind of beast. The Trophy Wife's Fiery Escape
Modern My fiancé, Griffin Cooper, was turning me from a wild heiress into his perfect trophy wife. My father approved, eager to tame the rebellious spirit I' d inherited from my mother.
A near-fatal car crash was my wake-up call. But the real horror began when Griffin punished me for defending myself at a gala by throwing me into an icy fountain.
As I shivered, bleeding from my period into the freezing water, his orders were chilling.
"Let her bleed," he told his guards. "Perhaps it will teach her a lesson."
That was before he scalded me with boiling water and locked me in a panic room, where my venomous stepsister tasered me until I passed out.
I finally understood. He didn't want a partner; he wanted a prisoner to break.
So on his wedding day, I arranged a little surprise. I sent my stepsister down the aisle in my place, blew our family mansion to smithereens, and boarded the first flight to freedom. My revenge had just begun. Betrayal on the Wedding Day
Romance On my wedding night, the woman I had loved for ten years, Olivia Stone, told me our marriage was a mere convenience. Standing by the window, her back to me, she declared her lack of desire for me, her words colder than our untouched bed.
The next morning, I overheard her telling her assistant, Alex Miller, how disgusted she was by me, even referring to me as "a sick, dying man who can' t even give me a child." My hopeful decade crumbled.
Heartbreak was physical, a searing pain. I signed divorce papers without hesitation. Later, I saw her laughing with Alex, and she signed the agreement, not even bothering to read its terms. Just annoyance flickered in her eyes. It was clear then: I was an intruder in my own home, a long-suffering fool. She' d never seen me, only what I could give her.
The pain of her indifference was immense, a drowning sensation. My meticulously built world, centered on her love, was obliterated in twenty-four hours.
I sold our house, severed ties, and prepared for aggressive treatment for my genetic illness abroad. But Olivia, consumed by greed, followed me, threatening to expose my infertility to the world if I didn't acknowledge her child with Alex as my heir.
"I' m pregnant, Ethan," she said, her voice clear. "And Alex is the father." She believed she had me trapped, that I, the pathetic, dying man, would succumb to her manipulation. She was wrong. I Once Loved My Foster Brother
Romance For ten years, I lived a lie, pretending to be part of the wealthy Peterson family who took me in after my parents died. I, Scarlett Hayes, the orphan they graciously adopted, secretly cherished a forbidden love for their son, Brandon.
My carefully guarded world shattered on my eighteenth birthday when I finally confessed my feelings. "I… I love you. Not like a sister," I stammered, only to be met with his cold, dismissive laugh. "Scarlett, don' t be ridiculous. You' re my sister. That' s all you' ll ever be."
His words clipped my wings, but my foolish heart clung to hope for four more years, enduring his casual cruelties. The final blow came when his new girlfriend, Tiffany Chen, publicly humiliated me at his birthday party, accusing me of something I didn' t do. Instead of defending me, Brandon slapped me across the face in front of everyone, his act a brutal testament to his indifference.
The pain, both physical and emotional, was a constant throb. How could the boy who once promised to protect me become my tormentor? How could I have been so blind, so foolishly devoted to someone who saw me as nothing more than a burden, a "guest" in his perfect life? And why did he give away the last piece of my dead parents to her, the music box, as if I simply didn't exist?
But that slap, that utter dismissal, became my turning point. I had to choose myself. With a full scholarship to London for art, my true passion, I packed my single suitcase. I was done loving him. I was leaving, a one-way ticket to a new life where I would finally be free. Beyond The 99 Percent
Fantasy The music vibrated through the floor at Vance Architecture's biggest project win in a decade.
My husband, Ethan Vance, CEO, stood in the center, smiling, but his gaze was fixed on Sophia Miller, so close they were almost touching.
She was back, and I felt like the invisible woman in my own life.
"To Sophia," he announced, his voice warm with a feeling he' d never shown me, "for coming back. The firm wasn't the same without you."
Waves of applause crashed around me as I stood by the wall, my untouched juice a stark contrast to their champagne, the bitter truth settling in: it was all over.
A quiet, mechanical voice echoed in my head, a secret only I could hear: [Host, your mission completion is at 99%. Are you certain you wish to terminate the task?]
I didn' t need to say yes aloud. My thoughts were enough: Yes, I'm certain.
He doesn't love me. He loves her. All this time, I was just a substitute – a ghost he loved through me.
My five years of devotion, every effort, every believed promise, every step closer… it was all a lie.
Then, just last night, I' d heard his confession, heard him admit I was just a "substitute."
My world shattered.
[Understood. Processing request for termination. A 30-day buffer period has been initiated.]
I wasn' t Chloe Davis originally. I was a soul from another reality, with a mission: win 100% affection to go home, healthy and whole.
I escaped an abusive adoptive family, only to be "saved" by Ethan Vance, who built my world, offered me everything, and then asked me to marry him.
I genuinely believed he loved me for me, switching my mission target to him, and the progress bar leapt to 80%, slowly crawling to 99%… and stalling.
Now I knew why.
He wouldn' t even notice I was gone.
I was done.
I was ready to leave this world. Stolen Canvas
Modern The cheap paint fumes were the last thing I smelled, trapped in my icy attic room, a constant reminder of the art that had become my death. My body, ravaged by a cough, lay on a lumpy mattress, my vibrant, unsold canvases mocking me from the walls.
My phone, clutched in a trembling hand, was my only window to the life I should have had, glowing with a live stream from a grand art gala. And there she was: Evelyn Hayes. My adoptive mother. My mentor. My destroyer.
She stood on a brightly lit stage, elegant and poised. Behind her, a painting. My style. The style she' d once called "immature." Now, the art world called it "revolutionary," as the chyron flashed: "Evelyn Hayes's Masterpiece Sells for Record-Breaking $10 Million."
A bitter, silent scream trapped in my chest, the phone slipped from my fingers. The world went dark.
Then, a gasp for air. My body shot up, but the air was clean, fresh. The crippling cough gone. My hands smooth, strong. This wasn't my dying attic. It was my high school bedroom, six years in the past.
I was alive. I was healthy. I was back.
The realization hit me like a tidal wave. Evelyn hadn't just stolen my art; she had built her career on my destruction, leaving me to die alone. The pain, the betrayal, the memory of her smiling face on that stage - it all ignited a fierce, burning resolve.
"Never again," I whispered, my voice trembling with a power I hadn't felt in years. "You will not destroy me again, Evelyn. This time, I will expose you for the fraud you are." The game had begun. A Path to Healing
Modern My mother, Susan, taught public school for thirty years.
She loved her students and her job.
Two years ago, she died, and my wife, Olivia, was my rock.
Then at a company "Day of Service," I saw Olivia spoon-feeding an elderly woman.
Olivia, who told me she was flying to California for a "wellness retreat."
She looked up, and asked, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
I was left stunned, publicly accused of harassment, and suspended from my new promotion.
Olivia returned home with tearful excuses, claiming she was secretly caring for Mrs. Peterson because she reminded her of my mother.
But small, unsettling details – a discount body wash, our forgotten anniversary, a malicious serving of cilantro – chipped away at her story.
Was I going crazy, or was Olivia deliberately trying to obscure the truth of her life from me?
My heart pounded with a sickening dread.
This wasn't just a distraction; it was a calculated, devastating betrayal.
The final straw was a booking confirmation on her tablet for The Cascade Inn, a luxury hotel, for that very night.
Cold fury turned to icy resolution.
I knew her supposed "retreat" was a lie.
I had to know who she was meeting.
I grabbed my keys. Reborn and Ruthless: The Midas Touch Returns
Fantasy They called my family's gift the "Midas touch," uncanny luck ensuring prosperity for those in our orbit.
Julian Thorne, from a lineage cursed with men dying before thirty, desperately needed it for his survival.
His mother, Victoria, proposed a lucrative partnership to save her son.
In my first life, I accepted, pouring my essence into his success, helping him defy fate, celebrating his 30th birthday.
But he paraded his new love, Isabelle, and publicly denounced me as a fraud, shattering my reputation.
My assets frozen, my name disgraced, everything I had vanished by morning.
He then abandoned me at a desolate, chemical waste site, where I died alone and terrified, my hometown withering under his cruel hand.
The metallic tang of chemicals, the stench of decay – that memory seared into my soul, a cold reality of his ultimate betrayal.
How could the man I saved condemn me to such a horrifying end?
Then, I blinked.
I was back.
Reborn, on the very day Victoria Thorne first offered that cursed contract.
My hands steady, I pushed it back.
"No," I said, my voice quiet but cutting, shattering the chains of my past and forging a new destiny. You might like
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire
Rollins Laman For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power.
But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins.
It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola.
When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel.
Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry.
"You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch.
"But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job."
He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash.
He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him.
I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone.
Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?"
I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected.
"The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all."
Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street.
Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary.
He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi. Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" 
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