Seven Days to a Kiss

Seven Days to a Kiss

Gavin

5.0
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My husband, Ethan, and I had a simple rule for our five-year marriage: we could have affairs, but our mansion was off-limits. It was our only sanctuary. Then, on my birthday, he broke it. He walked in with a girl named Tara, who looked disturbingly like my deceased sister, Gabrielle. Without even looking at me, Ethan' s voice cut through the air: "Jocelyn, I want a divorce. I' m going to be with her." A strange calm settled over me. I should have felt the familiar sting of betrayal, but I felt nothing. Perhaps because two days earlier, I died. On our fifth anniversary, a truck swerved, and I died on impact. Yet, my soul, consumed by obsession for Ethan, refused to leave, binding me to this world. That' s when Papa Legba, a spirit of the crossroads, appeared. He offered me a deal: seven days to get a true kiss from Ethan, and my life would be returned. Fail, and my soul was his. I knew it was impossible; Ethan had never kissed me with genuine emotion. But I accepted. Now, watching my husband replace me, I was already on day two. "Ethan, please. Just one kiss," I begged, but he scoffed, "I only kiss women I love." Then, he kissed Tara deeply, passionately, right in front of me. The pain was so sharp, it felt like I was dying all over again. I was trapped, a phantom in my own life, with a magical red thread on my wrist visibly fading, signaling my impending eternal demise. And no one, especially not the man I loved, believed me.

Introduction

My husband, Ethan, and I had a simple rule for our five-year marriage: we could have affairs, but our mansion was off-limits. It was our only sanctuary.

Then, on my birthday, he broke it.

He walked in with a girl named Tara, who looked disturbingly like my deceased sister, Gabrielle. Without even looking at me, Ethan' s voice cut through the air: "Jocelyn, I want a divorce. I' m going to be with her."

A strange calm settled over me.

I should have felt the familiar sting of betrayal, but I felt nothing.

Perhaps because two days earlier, I died. On our fifth anniversary, a truck swerved, and I died on impact. Yet, my soul, consumed by obsession for Ethan, refused to leave, binding me to this world. That' s when Papa Legba, a spirit of the crossroads, appeared.

He offered me a deal: seven days to get a true kiss from Ethan, and my life would be returned. Fail, and my soul was his.

I knew it was impossible; Ethan had never kissed me with genuine emotion. But I accepted. Now, watching my husband replace me, I was already on day two.

"Ethan, please. Just one kiss," I begged, but he scoffed, "I only kiss women I love."

Then, he kissed Tara deeply, passionately, right in front of me. The pain was so sharp, it felt like I was dying all over again. I was trapped, a phantom in my own life, with a magical red thread on my wrist visibly fading, signaling my impending eternal demise. And no one, especially not the man I loved, believed me.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

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.

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