Janie
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Janie's Book and Story
My Formidable Beggar Husband
Short stories Here’s the translation of your text into English:
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Andrew became the top scholar of the nation, and immediately turned his back on me, becoming Krista's subordinate. Krista, jealous of Andrew's lingering feelings for me, forced me to become a prostitute in front of everyone. The countless stares and curses from the crowd made me lose all hope of living. Just as I was about to end my own life, a beggar reached out to me.
"Don't seek death; I want you," he said. He draped his tattered robe over me and took me away. Krista sat high on her platform, laughing mockingly: "A bitch is well-suited for a beggar; a match made in heaven."
The beggar held me tighter and whispered, "Next time we return, take their heads as your bride price..." I thought this was just empty comfort, but to my surprise, he donned silver armor and led an army of 150,000 to come and fight...
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The Price of Unrequited Love
Gavin Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley.
Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him.
That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!"
He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law."
Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart. My Rival, My Only Hope
Gavin On my birthday, my mother told me it was time to choose a fiancé from New York's most eligible bachelors. She urged me to pick Alexander Booth, the man I loved with a foolish passion in my previous life.
But I remembered how that love story ended. On the eve of our wedding, Alexander faked his death in a private jet crash.
I spent years as his grieving fiancée, only to find him alive and well on a beach, laughing with the poor student I had personally sponsored. They even had a child.
When I confronted him, our friends—the men who had pretended to comfort me—held me down.
They helped Alexander throw me into the ocean and watched from the pier as I drowned.
As the water closed over my head, only one person showed any real emotion. My childhood rival, Darrian Golden, screamed my name as they held him back, his face twisted in grief. He was the only one who cried at my funeral.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in our penthouse, just a week before the big decision. This time, when my mother asked me to choose Alexander, I gave her a different name. I chose the man who mourned me. I chose Darrian Golden. His Celebrity Mistress's Downfall
Gavin I gave up my twenty-billion-dollar inheritance and cut ties with my family, all for my boyfriend of five years, Ignatz.
But just as I was about to tell him I was pregnant with our child, he dropped a bombshell.
He needed me to take the fall for his childhood sweetheart, Everleigh. She'd been in a hit-and-run, and her career couldn't handle the scandal.
When I refused and told him about our baby, his face went cold. He told me to terminate the pregnancy immediately.
"Everleigh is the woman I love," he said. "Finding out you're pregnant with my child would destroy her."
He had his assistant schedule the appointment and sent me to the clinic alone. There, the nurse told me the procedure carried a high risk of permanent infertility.
He knew. And he still sent me.
I walked out of that clinic, choosing to keep my child. At that exact moment, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a glowing article announcing that Ignatz and Everleigh were expecting their first child, complete with a photo of his hand resting protectively on her stomach.
My world shattered. Wiping away a tear, I found the number I hadn't called in five years.
"Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm ready to come home." When Love Turns to Ash
Gavin My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises. His Promise, Her Prison
Gavin The day I was released from prison, my fiancé, Don Ford, was waiting for me, promising our life would finally begin.
Seven years ago, he and my parents begged me to take the fall for a crime my adopted sister, Kelsey, committed. She got behind the wheel drunk, hit someone, and fled the scene.
They said Kelsey was too fragile for prison. They called my seven-year sentence a small sacrifice.
But as soon as we arrived at the family mansion, Don’s phone rang. Kelsey was having another one of her “episodes,” and he left me standing alone in the grand foyer to rush to her side.
The butler then informed me I was to stay in the dusty storage room on the third floor. My parents’ orders. They didn't want me upsetting Kelsey when she returned.
It was always Kelsey. She was the reason they took my college scholarship fund, and she was the reason I lost seven years of my life. I was their biological daughter, but I was just a tool to be used and discarded.
That night, alone in that cramped room, a cheap phone a prison guard gave me buzzed with an email. It was a job offer for a classified position I had applied for eight years ago. It came with a new identity and an immediate relocation package. A way out.
I typed my reply with shaking fingers.
"I accept." When Love Dies: A Spy's Escape
Gavin "You will be declared dead, Gregoria." That's what Agent Christian told me. My life as an FBI agent was about to end, replaced by a ghost. No contact with my past, not even my husband, Darwin.
But then, a week before my staged death, I walked into our home office and saw it: Darwin's laptop, open, displaying a live video feed. My husband, shirtless, with his assistant, Elyssa Daniel. They were kissing. My world tilted.
I watched, frozen, as he kissed her. The sounds they made were obscene. I recognized the unique lines of his body, the watch I gave him for our anniversary. I stumbled back, my hand shaking as I reached for my phone. I had to confront this nightmare.
I hit the call button. On the screen, Darwin froze, then answered my call. "Hey, honey. What's up?" His voice, so normal, so full of lies, broke something inside me. The phone slipped from my grasp. My heart, my love, my entire world had been a lie.
I spent the night on the office floor, replaying the video. The evidence of his betrayal was a digital tombstone for our marriage. Each time I watched, disgust and pain grew. I looked at my wedding ring, a mark of my foolishness, and threw it across the room.
He thought I was weak, predictable. He thought I loved him so much I'd believe the sky was green. But the woman who loved Darwin Mcintosh died on that office floor. And in that moment, my mission, my fake death, felt like an escape. The Ex-Wife’s Grand Return
Gavin My husband, Brady, was supposed to be the love of my life, the man who promised to protect me forever. Instead, he was the one who hurt me the most.
He forced me to sign divorce papers, accusing me of corporate espionage and sabotaging company projects, all while his first love, Hettie, who was supposedly dead, reappeared, pregnant with his child.
My family was gone, my mother disowned me, and my father died while I was working late, a choice I'd regret forever. I was dying, suffering from late-stage cancer, and he didn't even know, or care. He was too busy with Hettie, who was allergic to the flowers I tended for him, the ones he loved because Hettie loved them.
He accused me of having an affair with my adoptive brother, Callum, who was also my doctor, the only person who truly cared for me. He called me disgusting, a skeleton, and told me no one loved me.
I was terrified that if I fought back, I would lose even the right to hear his voice on the phone. I was so weak, so pathetic.
But I wouldn't let him win.
I signed the divorce papers, giving him Simon Corp, the company he always wanted to destroy.
I faked my death, hoping he would finally be happy.
But I was wrong.
Three years later, I returned as Aurora Morgan, a powerful woman with a new identity, ready to make him pay for everything he had done. Discarded Love, Found Happiness
Gavin I stood just outside the glass patio doors, holding a tray of fresh towels. Tonight was a celebration of Coleton Barron' s full recovery, the tech world' s golden boy back on his feet after three years of my dedicated physical therapy.
But then, his ex-girlfriend, Charly Mack, appeared. When a stray splash from the pool hit her dress, Coleton shoved me aside to protect her, sending me headfirst into the concrete edge of the pool.
I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, only to see Coleton comforting Charly, who was faking tears. He didn' t defend me when she claimed we were "just friends." His mother, Esther Cotton, then sent me a text with a five-million-dollar check, telling me I didn' t fit into his world.
Back at his penthouse, Charly accused me of poisoning Coleton with soup and breaking his father' s cherished wooden box. He believed her, forcing me to drink the soup and leaving me to collapse on the kitchen floor. I ended up in the hospital again, alone.
I didn' t understand why he would believe her lies, why he would hurt me after everything I had done. Why was I just a temporary fix, easily discarded?
On his birthday, I left him a text: "Happy Birthday, Coleton. I' m leaving. Don' t look for me. Goodbye." I turned off my phone, dropped it in a trash can, and walked toward a new life. Three Years, One Big Lie
Gavin I donated my kidney to save my fiancé's sister. For three years, I loved him, cared for her, and planned our future, never knowing the life I was building was a lie.
Then, a text from an unknown number arrived. It was a picture of a marriage certificate from two years ago. Groom: my fiancé, Dock. Bride: his "sister," Brianna.
He admitted it all when I confronted him. He was already married to her when he proposed to me. My love, my sacrifice, was just a way for her to get on his insurance to cover the transplant. He told me she was coming home from the hospital, and I needed to pack my things and leave.
Just hours before, my own doctor had called. The donation had put me at high risk, and now I had aggressive, terminal cancer.
As I drove away from the house we shared, my phone buzzed again. Pictures from Brianna. Them kissing on a beach. A positive pregnancy test. I had given them my health, my future, and my heart, and they had left me with nothing but a death sentence.
The world spun into a blur of headlights and screaming metal.
But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the wreckage. I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache radiating from my side. The anesthetic from my kidney donation surgery was just wearing off. Through the door, my fiancé walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. This time, I knew the truth.