esoralimloves
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Serve Me, My Lord
Wo Ruo Emmett was a loyal footman at the wealthy Patterson estate, desperate to scrub the slum out of his blood.
He abandoned his family and gave his absolute devotion to the beautiful young miss, Clara.
But when the estate faced bankruptcy, Clara ruthlessly framed him for embezzlement to protect her family's wealth.
He was shoved into a police carriage in the freezing rain. Through the window, he saw Clara watching him with fake pity, looking at him like a stray dog being put down.
The judge slammed his gavel, sentencing him to a slow, agonizing death.
Because he had spent all his wages on tailored uniforms to fit in, his mother died in a cheap coffin from an untreated illness, leaving his siblings to starve.
As the thick, coarse rope crushed his windpipe, Emmett was filled with agonizing regret.
He didn't understand how the woman who smiled so sweetly could send him to the gallows without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening his eyes again, Emmett found himself back in the servant's quarters, exactly three days before the Patterson family's downfall.
This time, he wouldn't be their loyal dog. He was going to be their executioner.
He planned to watch Clara sell herself to the savage new heir, Kearney Bernard, just to keep her luxury.
But at the welcome dinner, the terrifying new master ignored Clara completely, locked his dark, obsessive eyes on Emmett, and whispered.
"You are mine. Nobody touches you." Beyond Betrayal: Her Game Begins
Julian Reid The rain lashed against my office windows, a sudden storm mirroring the chaos that erupted when Dr. Chen' s call came, breathlessly telling me, "It's David."
My husband, David, was in an accident, and when I arrived at the hospital, the world shattered-he was holding another woman's hand, looking at me with cold, polite confusion.
"Can I help you?" he asked, as she, his executive assistant, Chloe, tightened her grip on his hand, a triumphant flicker in her eyes.
He then scoffed when I told him I was his wife of ten years, declaring, "Chloe is my girlfriend," dismissing me as "crazy" when I listed our shared memories, our dog, our wedding.
He even compared being married to me to being "a piece of sensible, well-designed, but ultimately unexciting furniture," a crushing blow that twisted every cherished moment of our life into a lie.
Then, the final, undeniable proof came: a video of David and Chloe, intimate in our bed, sent by Chloe herself, a trophy of her victory, after he refused to help my ailing mother.
The last ounce of love I had for David died, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve.
I called Mark, David's estranged best friend and an investigative journalist, who had looked at me with aching worry in the wake of David's betrayal.
I was Sarah Miller, celebrated architect, and David Thompson had just made the biggest mistake of his manipulative life.
I was done being the victim.
It was time to play his game. Mafia's First LOVE
Koya_Shush_ "Please don't do this. You will regret it." He cried loudly as I threw him on the bed and hovered above him. He was struggling to free himself from my cage but couldn't as his legs and hands were tied to the ropes.
"This beauty is under me; I would love to ruin it." I caressed his cheek with my knuckles and then travelled my fingers to his neck and then to his collarbone. I held his shirt and pulled it with such force that it got torn, and his naked chest was visible to me.
I smirked at my sight and attacked his collarbone. "Ahhhh..." He screamed and then cried, "Please leave me." I was biting and licking his collarbone, and he was crying continuously and trying to stop me by moving himself.
"Slap". I got irritated, and slapped him, and said angrily, "If you spoil my mood, then someone else will suffer the punishment for your mistake." Hearing me, his eyes widened. He turned his head to one side and pursed his lips to stop his crying sound. I chuckled at my win and then leaned against his chest.
**************************************
Alex Kelly (AK) is the smoking hot CEO of a very big company who is ruthless and heartless. He is also a mafia king who has no emotion left in his heart, and very few people know about it as no one has seen him as a mafia boss. He is known by his name, Mafia King AK. He is a devil in human form. He has only one aim in life: revenge by killing the man and his family who killed his parents. He doesn't believe in love; for him, love makes humans weak.
Steve Martin is a doctor and works as a general surgeon in the biggest hospital in the city. He is sweet, kind, and full of positive vibes. He has never dated anyone, first because of his studies and now because of his job. He hates the mafia because of his past and never wants to encounter them in life. He left his family and lived his life by himself.
But what will happen when he catches the eye of the mafia? What will happen when the mafia wants him at any cost? And when will his past stand with a sword at his throat? Will he be able to survive the upcoming danger and find his love?
The Unseen Love: A Mother's Secret
Wo Ruo For my entire life, I lived in my brother Jack's shadow.
He was the charming, reckless musician; I was Emily, the quiet, responsible daughter, always overlooked.
As my mother, Susan Carter, lay dictating her will, I braced myself.
The old lawyer read it aloud: "To my son, Jack, the house and all my savings."
A predictable inheritance for the favored son.
But for me: "To my daughter, Emily, I leave my collection of old family recipe books, and the contents of the cedar chest in the attic."
Recipe books. An old chest. Worthless junk. It was the ultimate dismissal.
While Jack got new bikes, I patched my holed shoes.
While Mom funded his music dreams, I worked two jobs for my teaching degree.
My A' s uncelebrated; his D-grade parties.
Even in death, I was utterly alone, replaced by his triumphant smirk.
How could she? After everything I'd done for her – doctor appointments, meals.
This wasn't just neglect; this was personal.
A deliberate statement: "You are not valued. You are not loved. Not like he is."
My heart pounded with agonizing injustice.
Could there be anything more? Anything at all?
Mark, my husband, eyed my "worthless" inheritance.
"What if your mom didn' t know?" he suggested.
"Or what if… she left them for a reason, Emily? You love history. You' re the teacher."
The bitterness remained, but a defiant spark ignited.
What if this seemingly worthless inheritance held a secret, a different kind of legacy? Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal
Johan Gorski The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, David, was in an accident.
At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife.
When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?"
He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry.
It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure.
I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper."
Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her.
"She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed.
He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle."
My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed.
"Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe.
Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone.
My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break."
My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away.
A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do.
When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"