Samuel Gray
12 Published Stories
Samuel Gray's Books and Stories
The Midnight Iris of Betrayal
Modern After fifteen years of marriage, my husband finally noticed my nail polish. The shade was 'Midnight Iris.'
It was also the favorite shade of his new assistant, Cheri.
When I confronted him, Brennan called me ridiculous. "Maybe you should get a job," he sneered. "Stop obsessing over meaningless things."
But the deepest cut came from my son, Bird.
"You don't even do anything all day," he said, his words a mirror of his father's. "And Cheri is picking me up today. She's way more fun than you."
Later, he texted, asking me to buy a birthday present for Cheri. My own birthday had been the week before. He hadn't even mentioned it.
He hadn't forgotten. He just didn't care. I had been replaced in my own home, in my own son's heart.
Before the tears could blind me, I sent a text to my lawyer.
"I want to give up custody. Completely. I can't be a mother to a child who doesn't see me." Gilded Cage: The CEO's Unwilling Bride
Romance I was the "diamond" of the Sargent Foundation, a perfect orphan polished for the cameras and high-society galas. But beneath the glittering chandeliers, I was suffocating. When the pressure finally broke me and I tried to flee the Sargent Gala, I wasn't met with comfort. I was hunted down by security and dragged into a sterile, white-hot spotlight in a room I was never allowed to enter.
Adrien Sargent, the cold-blooded CEO who controlled my every move, didn't want to help me. He wanted to devour me. He presented a legal cage: sign over my voting shares for his unethical hostile takeover, or he would have my only friend—the elderly butler who raised me—killed in his nursing home bed.
I became a prisoner in the East Wing, stripped of my phone and watched by hidden cameras. During a midnight storm, I tried to steal a security card to escape, but Adrien caught me in his study. Reeking of whiskey and corporate rage, he didn't just stop me. He pinned me to his desk and branded my neck with a bite so deep it bruised, treating me like a thief who deserved to be claimed.
The next morning, the house turned into a battlefield of lies. His PR consultant tried to claim she was the one in his bed, but Adrien found a pearl button from my pajamas under his desk. He didn't feel guilt; he felt violated. He accused me of orchestrating the entire encounter to blackmail him, his eyes filled with a terrifying, possessive fury.
When his grandmother caught us, she didn't see a victim; she saw a liability. To save the family stock price, she gave us an ultimatum: marriage.
"I’ll do it," I said, looking at the massive diamond ring that felt more like a shackle. Adrien thought he had finally broken me, but he didn't know about the encrypted file I just received. The corporate crisis he’s fighting was an inside job, and the trail leads straight to his own front door.
I looked at my new husband on our wedding night and let my silk dress hit the floor. He thinks he’s trapped a rabbit, but I’ve just gained total access to his world. I will sleep with the enemy, learn every dark secret he’s hiding, and then I am going to burn his empire to the ground. His Betrayal, My Fierce Comeback
Modern I was the moral compass of modern media, a journalist with a flawless record and a penthouse life with my husband, Britton.
Then one phone call shattered it all. He blackmailed me, using a dark secret I kept for him, forcing me to retract a story and destroy my own career to protect his intern, Baylee.
The fallout was brutal. My reputation was ruined overnight. Fleeing the city, I was in a horrific car accident and woke up in the hospital to learn I'd had a miscarriage.
The final blow came when I called him for help, only to hear his intern giggling in the background.
The man I loved since we were kids, the one who swore to protect me, had orchestrated my ruin and cost me our child.
He left me for dead at the bottom of a cliff.
But he made one mistake: he didn't make sure I was dead. Pulled from the ocean by a mysterious stranger, I was reborn. Now, I'm coming back to reclaim everything he took-and make him pay. My Peace Beyond His Regret
Modern My boyfriend, Damien, chose a Vegas trip with his toxic best friend, Branden, over our relationship, ignoring my ultimatum that if he walked out, we were over. He walked.
A week later, he was back, dangling a designer handbag as a peace offering. But while he was partying, I was in the ER with a severe, stress-induced anxiety attack.
The final blow came when I saw Damien had 'liked' Branden' s social media post mocking my pain.
He stood outside my apartment, laughing with Branden, calling me "dramatic" and "clingy," completely unaware I had already packed his entire life into boxes.
"What... what is all this, Cecil?" he stammered, his face turning from shock to rage as he saw his belongings ready for the movers. "What have you done?"
I looked him dead in the eye, my voice cold and steady. "We're over, Damien. So, are these boxes going to your place, or to Branden's?" From Mafia Wife To Free Woman
Mafia For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence.
But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel.
Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child.
"But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
"She served her purpose," Dante said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A broodmare is only valuable when it can produce. After that…"
He didn't have to finish. In his world, useless things are discarded. Violently. Every touch, every calculated smile had been a lie to secure his dynasty.
He saw a legacy, not a child. He saw a vessel, not a wife.
The only way to win his game was to knock the whole board over. I pulled out my phone and called the clinic my friend had told me about.
"Yes," I said, my voice a stranger’s, hollow and steady. "I'd like to schedule a termination." The Beta Rejected Me, So I Claimed His King.
Werewolf I stood at my mating ceremony, about to be joined with my pack's Beta, Brendan, under the watchful eye of the powerful Alpha King.
But just as the rites began, Brendan abandoned me at the altar. He ran off into the woods for another woman—a fragile rogue named Marina he had taken in.
He left me to face the humiliation alone. Then, a message came through the public leadership channel for all to hear. It was Brendan, announcing that Marina had attempted suicide and he couldn't leave her.
He then had the audacity to command me to apologize to the Alpha King on his behalf for the "disruption."
The man I had loved for six years, who had promised me forever just the night before, had traded my honor for a lie. He made me a laughingstock in front of the entire continent.
That night, drowning my sorrow in a human bar, I ran into the Alpha King himself. Fueled by whiskey and heartbreak, I made a reckless offer.
"He doesn't want me anymore," I slurred. "Alpha, do you want me tonight?"
To my shock, he accepted. And in his arms, I discovered a stunning truth: the Alpha King, my ex-fiancé's uncle, was my true fated Mate. My revenge had just begun. Woke Up as My Nemesis's Wife
Billionaires I, Selena Grant, was the most cherished daughter of the Grant family in Seaview City, a princess in all but name. Countless men longed to draw near, not for love, but for the status and glory that came with me.
But men never interested me. My only passion was my work, and my ambition was to see my empire stretch across the globe.
For a long time, I believed I would burn out in my relentless work, destined to grow old alone.
Until the day I woke in a bathtub.
From the phone came a voice, sharp with impatience, "Why aren't you dead already?"
A stranger-a servant-told me I was married, and that I had degraded myself time and again, staging suicide attempts just to win a glance from this man.
I didn't believe a word of it.
I could be relentless for my work, but never for a man.
I picked up the phone and glanced at hundreds of rejected call records and countless unsent messages, all beginning with the same desperate words, "I love you."
In that instant, I believed it.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared up at the ceiling.
Although I had lost three years of memories from this marriage, anyone who dared to treat me with such contempt would not escape the consequences. Stolen Identity, Stolen Love
Modern The plane landed, and Ethan Miller, world-renowned chef, felt the thrill of victory – the "Global Culinary Masters" trophy securely in his bag. He envisioned his fiancée, Sophia, and The Alchemist\'s Table, his restaurant that had just earned its third Michelin star.
But joy turned to ice as two burly guards blocked his entrance, demanding an invitation to his own restaurant. Laughter and champagne clinked inside, and a video played on a loop, showing "Chef Ethan Miller," holding his trophy, kissing it for the cameras-but it wasn\'t him.
The police arrived, called by the imposter, who claimed Ethan's ID was stolen. "The system says this ID was reported stolen two weeks ago. By Mr. Ethan Miller." They dragged him away, a man pleading, swearing he was the true Ethan.
He saw the imposter, his doppelgänger, putting an arm around Sophia, who leaned into him with a look of pure love. "Who am I?" he whispered, as his world crumbled, every memory, every achievement, every relationship with his fiancée replaced.
Humiliated, abandoned, and facing a life he no longer recognized, Ethan knew one thing: he had to reclaim his identity, no matter the cost. Back From The Dead For A Blank Check
Billionaires I poured everything into him.
As a struggling artist, I lived for Julian, my charming musician.
I paid his bills, cooked his food, convinced myself our love was worth more than money.
Then the black Escalades came.
My Julian, the man I loved, was Julian Vance, a billionaire heir.
He didn' t even look at me as his fixer handed me a check for $500,000, calling it a "thank you for your time."
My world shattered.
I tore the check, screamed my love wasn't for sale.
I was a romantic idiot.
To keep him, I leaked our story to the tabloids, forcing his family to make him marry me for appearances.
The marriage was hell.
Julian treated me with open disgust.
His monstrous grandfather systematically dismantled my life, isolating me, sabotaging my art, whispering poisons until I questioned my sanity.
The final blow: Julian on Page Six, laughing on a yacht with "his longtime companion," Serena.
My "love story" was a brutal nightmare, my grand romance a calculated humiliation.
The pain of betrayal, the sheer injustice, choked me.
How could something so pure turn so monstrously toxic?
I was a pawn.
That night, in our cold, empty penthouse, I ended my life.
But then, I woke up.
Back in my tiny Brooklyn apartment.
The day before I met Julian for the "first" time.
This time, I knew the script.
And this time, I wasn't here for love.
I was here to collect. When Family Turns Foe
Modern I was eight months pregnant, heading to my parents' home for their "big news."
I expected typical parental updates, maybe about retirement or a new hobby.
Instead, my 55-year-old mother was significantly pregnant, too, chirping "Surprise!"
My childhood bedroom was gone, replaced by a lavish nursery for my "miracle" baby brother, Jacob.
Then came the demands: financial support for Jacob, and even my condo-the only real security I owned.
They wanted me to fund their late-life child, whose existence they used as a weapon against me and my future firstborn son.
I refused, reeling from their blatant greed and emotional blackmail.
My mother's sweet tone turned to venom, threatening my husband Michael's successful career.
She warned she'd accuse him of elder abuse at his tech firm if I didn't comply, claiming "family helps family."
This was a new low, but it didn' t compare to what came next.
My half-brother Jacob, whom they forced upon me, fell critically ill with leukemia.
When I wasn't a match for a bone marrow donation, their demands turned monstrous.
They tried to force my then three-year-old son, Leo, my own fragile child, to be tested.
They spread lies online, publicly shaming me for "letting my brother die" by protecting my son.
I exposed their wicked scheme, posting signed agreements that showed their manipulative nature.
They retaliated with the unthinkable: they kidnapped my son, Leo, from preschool.
They intended to force a marrow extraction from my toddler, claiming it was a "life-saving diagnostic procedure."
That day, terror consumed me.
My own parents had crossed an unforgivable line, sacrificing my child for their selfish, desperate obsession.
I called the police, determined to rescue Leo and break free from their toxic grasp forever. The Charity Case Dare: Her Sweet Revenge
Young Adult Sarah Miller had one shot: Northwood Academy, a world away from her cramped apartment and her dad' s pain-ridden reality.
As a scholarship kid, navigating the gilded halls felt like walking a tightrope, especially with queen bee Tiffany Vanderbilt and her "Legacy Crew" constantly reminding her she didn' t belong.
One evening, sweeping the school theater, I froze, hearing voices from the green room.
Tiffany' s voice cut through the silence: "Chad and Brittany are useless… Ethan, it has to be you."
My blood ran cold as I listened to them plot the "Charity Case Dare" -a twisted game where golden boy Ethan Hayes would wine and dine me, make me fall for him, then publicly break my heart right before graduation.
It wasn't just bullying; it was a calculated psychological operation, a sport for their amusement.
They wanted to see me weep, utterly destroyed.
Their words, "charity case," echoed like a brand.
Every petty cruelty, every snicker, now made sickening sense.
How could people born with every privilege, every advantage, be so casually, viciously cruel?
Didn' t they have souls?
Was I just a disposable pawn in their endless pursuit of twisted entertainment?
The injustice burned, a bitter bile rising in my throat.
They thought they had me trapped, a helpless animal in their cruel game.
But they were wrong.
I wasn' t going to be their victim.
I would play along, I would weaponize their arrogance, their resources, and their monstrous scheme.
And when the final curtain fell, they wouldn' t know what hit them. The Stolen Heiress: A Mother's Fight
Billionaires I woke up with a scream stuck in my throat. It was Chloe's eighteenth birthday – a day that should have been filled with joy, but instead, it felt like a chilling replay. My daughter, my sweet girl, was supposed to celebrate her coming of age.
The nightmare wasn’t just a dream; it was a terrifying premonition of my past life, a future about to unfold. My own husband, Richard, methodically stripped us of everything: our fortune, our home, our very lives. He was poised to hand my family's legacy, down to Chloe's custom gown and heirloom jewels, to his fake orphaned relative, Amber, with his housekeeper Linda by his side.
I remembered it all: Richard's icy declaration that I was "mentally unstable," Chloe's brave defense, the brutal scuffle that left her gravely injured, and finally, the staged car accident that stole our lives. Now, the phone rang, confirming the exact chilling details: Richard's assistant, demanding I present Amber with *the* Hayes family necklace. I saw the bruises on Chloe’s arm, forced to polish Amber’s shoes.
How could this be happening again? The betrayal, the theft, the violence – it was too much. But this time, a fierce, cold rage ignited inside me. I was no longer the broken woman they had destroyed.
As the assistant chirped about the necklace, I walked to the display case holding the fake pieces meant to placate me. With a heavy bronze statuette, I shattered the glass, then smashed the trinkets. "Tell Mr. Thorne," I commanded, "the original plan stands for Chloe's birthday." This time, history wouldn’t repeat. This time, I’d reclaim everything. You might like
Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." 
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