Confucius Ads Library: Ads

Id	Vlad	Saved	Scrape Time	Status	Scrape Result	Title	Body	Cta Type	Link Url	Page Name	Page Profile Uri	Page Like Count	Enddate	Cta Text	Caption	Display Format	Link Description	Link Url	Creation Time	Page Profile Picture Url	Page Entity Type	Current Page Name	Startdate	Actions
2,707,286	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706811}'	No	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Continue watching more series 👉👉👉	🔥Jessica, the Wolf Queen, grew tired of war and bloodshed, so she disguised herself as a plain healer in the woods. To ensure a normal, happy life for her daughter, she sent her to the Russo pack. Little did she know, she had sent her daughter into a living nightmare. Her daughter was treated like a slave—humiliated, abused, beaten, and nearly raped, simply because she had no fame or power. Realizing her mistake, Jessica resolved to save her daughter and make those who mistreated her pay. Meanwhile, she discovered that the Russo pack had betrayed their country and collaborated with Lord Kilian Darkmoom. Finally, Jessica defeated them and restored peace to the wolf world once more. 👇Download ReelShort TV to watch more series🥰	WATCH_MORE	http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.n	Reelshort-Video stories	https://www.facebook.com/100090841033078/	608,961	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch more	play.google.com	VIDEO		http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.newleaf.app.android.victor	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481268088_2118217648621858_4582392276519141337_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=3RG2PgWiDOoQ7kNvgGPu-AF&_nc_oc=AdiGQv-s86Na_isGK_wju0qyderln_TZIcxaLpFM-MRskrrTRy1h0mc891Y74OfWI__rG2ndHaoIc3EDd4YVF7vn&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AnBDYmReg_8rhxZYQa2-VQa&oh=00_AYDWIudWgzqieMA600DyZ_LRTLPLLF1aP56u-VZ3Ld6qkg&oe=67C73ACD	PERSON_PROFILE	Reelshort-Video stories	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,706,917	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706883}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	🔥🔥 Click to Read 👉🏻👉🏻	"Francesca! Francesca, what are you … I mean … Francesca, how … how did you know?" Mark stuttered. "You are the lowest of the low, Mark Kirwan." She spoke in a cold, clear voice. It took her husband by surprise and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet her contemptuous stare. "How dare you treat me like dirt? How dare you come from that bimbo's bed to mine?" "Francesca, stop that," Mark snapped. "You. Don’t you tell me what to do. You liar. You sly prick. I never want to see you again." ———————— ‘I’ll ring tonight.’ Mark leaned over, pecked her perfunctorily on the cheek, got out and took his luggage from the back of the car. He didn’t look back or wave as he strode towards Departures. He’d overdone the aftershave a bit, Francesca thought as she eased herself over to the driver’s side and adjusted the seat to accommodate her shorter length. Mark spent more time on planes than he did at home. She shook her head. The joys of being an international banker. Mark glanced at his watch as he hurried towards the automatic doors to Departures. His eyes raked the monitors looking for his flight number. Delayed. Mark heaved a sigh of relief … there was a God. For the first time that morning he felt his tension ease. He was here now. He hadn’t missed the flight. He hurried over to the information desk to collect his ticket, anxious to get to Check-in. ‘Would Mr Mark Kirwan pick up a courtesy telephone, please. Mr Mark Kirwan please pick up a courtesy telephone.’ The Tannoy message echoed through Departures. Mark grinned. He knew exactly who was at the other end of the phone. Francesca leaned across the dashboard to switch the CD player on and cursed as she saw Mark’s mobile phone plugged into the recharger. He’d go ballistic without his phone. He’d been in such a tizzy this morning. It was most unusual for him, he was usually so organized about things. She sped back in a semicircle. Maybe, if the security man was sympathetic, she could park on the double yellows outside Departures and catch Mark before he went airside. She saw an airport policeman and breathlessly explained the problem to him, waving Mark’s phone to emphasize the urgency of the situation. ‘That’s OK, go on. Try not to be too long,’ the policeman said kindly as a Tannoy announcement declared that Departures was a set-down area only. Francesca gave a wry smile and ran. What was the Check-in-desk number for Brussels? She was about to stand back to look up at the big monitors when by chance she glanced over at the escalators and saw her husband’s tawny head disappear from view. Relief flooded her. Great! She called his name but he didn’t hear her. What on earth was he going downstairs to Arrivals for? she thought, perplexed, as she made her way over to the escalators. She could see Mark at the very end and was about to step on the escalator herself and call his name when her eyes widened in shock and her voice caught in her throat. A young woman had stepped forward to greet him and, to Francesca’s absolute horror, Mark wrapped his arms around her and pecked her ardently. FRANCESCA FELT THE blood drain from her face. Her heart lurched sickeningly. It was as though someone had just punched her hard in the solar plexus. She couldn’t breathe. You’re dreaming, she told herself, incredulously. She looked down again. No! It was no dream. Mark and the young woman were moving away, talking and laughing animatedly. Fear gripped Francesca. What was going on? She vaguely remembered the glamorous brunette. She worked in the Acquisitions and Mergers department of Mark’s bank. She’d seen her at a few functions but hadn’t taken much notice of her. She couldn’t remember her name. Hesitantly, she moved towards the stairs that paralleled the escalators. She took a few steps down and saw Mark and the woman striding purposefully along. They weren’t checking in for a flight to Brussels. They seemed to be heading for Area 9, the Check-in area for domestic flights. She shadowed them, loitering in O’Brien’s Sandwich Bar until they had checked in and sauntered towards their boarding area, obviously now in no rush. Francesca walked past the small queue at the desk and looked at the flight destination. Cork. Mark and the woman were on their way to Cork and she knew exactly where they were going. How could he? How could he have an affair and bring his tart to the hotel that he’d taken Francesca to, just a few weeks ago, to celebrate her fortieth birthday? But he couldn’t be having an affair. It wasn’t possible, she thought frantically, not knowing what to do. Should she follow them and confront them? She felt sick. She started to shake as shock set in. Taking a deep breath Francesca turned and retraced her steps. She needed to get to the car, needed to be alone to try and make sense of this nightmare that her life had suddenly become. Why was this happening to her? To them? How could one’s life be flowing along smoothly one minute and the next be an absolute catastrophe? How long had Mark been seeing this woman? Did he come from her bed to Francesca’s? The thought made her feel nauseous. How had he been able to keep it from her? What did this mean for their marriage? How could she tell the boys that their father was a philanderer? What was she going to do? Francesca's phone rang, Mark’s voice came tetchily down the line. ‘Francesca, it’s me. I wish you’d bring your phone with you and keep it switched on. I’ve left mine in the car, make sure to take it with you before you leave it in for a service. I won’t be able to take calls and I’ll be late getting back to the apartment so I’ll call you later. Bye.’ Francesca stared at the phone in disbelief. How dare he leave a message like that for her? How dare he rebuke her for not having her phone, he who had left his own phone in the car, and then how double dare he lie to her? Late back to the apartment. The apartment was in Brussels and he was phoning her on his way to Cork! ‘That’s it, Mark Kirwan. You’ve played me for a fool once too often. By God, that’s the end of it.’ She raced upstairs in a fury and pulled two large suitcases from the top shelf of the walk-in closet. Suits, jumpers, tracksuits, underwear, including the giveaway Calvin Kleins, went higgledy-piggledy into the cases. Shoes, trainers, anything that she could find, were dumped in until the cases were bulging at the seams. She struggled to close the zips, but her anger gave her strength and finally the cases were fastened. She inhaled deeply like a runner who has just finished a gruelling race. Her jaw jutted with a determined set. Her eyes were uncharacteristically hard. Her anger was mounting by the minute. It was time her husband found out that their marriage was well and truly over. And he was going to find out personally, from her, before this day was out. THE TRAFFIC HAD eased as she made her second journey to the airport in less than an hour. A quick phone call to the Oaklands Hotel had elicited the information that yes, Mr Mark Kirwan was booked in but had not yet checked in. The receptionist very obligingly gave her the room number when Francesca said that she’d call later. Another call to Aer Lingus strengthened her resolve when she learned that there was availability on the lunchtime flight to Cork and on the early-evening return flight. She could pay for her tickets by credit card and collect them at the airport. Francesca conducted the transaction in double-quick time. She was anxious to get under way. Now that she had decided on her course of action she was determined to carry it through. Francesca smiled at the receptionist. ‘Hello. I’m just dropping my boss’s luggage up to him in room 311. He’s expecting me. He’s checked in. Mark Kirwan?’ She looked expectantly at the smartly groomed redhead. ‘Yes, indeed. Mr and Mrs Kirwan checked in earlier. John can help you there.’ She nodded towards the young porter who was hefting the cases onto a luggage trolley. ‘John, suite 311, please,’ she instructed. The nerve of Mark! How dare he call his trollop Mrs Kirwan, how dare he dismiss Francesca’s right to the title so easily? she raged as she followed the porter into the lift. It glided silently to the third floor. ‘Just open the door, please, and put the cases inside,’ she said briskly, handing the young man a fiver. ‘Certainly, madam.’ The porter was delighted with his tip and inserted the key into the lock without further ado. With youthful vigour he deposited the cases in the hall, then departed swiftly, whistling to himself. Francesca eased the door shut and surveyed the scene. She could hear a woman’s laughter behind the door on the left-hand side. She took a deep breath, swallowed and opened the door. Mark and the woman looked over from where they were sitting, surprised. Surprise gave way to shock as Mark recognized Francesca. He paled and jumped to his feet as she walked over to the table. The woman’s eyes opened wide and her hand went to her mouth. ‘Francesca! Francesca, what are you … I mean … Francesca, how … how did you know?’ Mark stuttered as he pulled his robe tighter around him and tied the belt. Francesca stared at him. He looked so handsome and relaxed in the white towelling robe, his hair, still damp from his shower, curling against the collar. Up until now she hadn’t really believed what was happening. Had hoped against hope that it was all a big mistake. But there was no mistaking their intimacy. She was the outsider here. The shock was very physical. She felt quite dazed. It was an effort to pull herself together. But she had to. For her own pride. Pride was all that would get her through this. ‘You are the lowest of the low, Mark Kirwan.’ She spoke in a cold, clear voice. Surprisingly strong. It took her husband by surprise and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet her contemptuous stare. ‘I hope our sons haven’t inherited any of your sly, lying, cheating ways. How dare you treat me like dirt? How dare you come from that bimbo's bed to mine?’ She turned to Nikki and said icily, her eyes full of scorn, ‘Did he tell you that our marriage was over? That we weren’t making love any more? He lied. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe you just don’t mind sharing a man. Well, I do. I have some self-respect. So you can have him … with pleasure. He’s obviously found his level in life and it’s pretty low.’ ‘Now just a minute.’ Nikki stood up, eyes glittering. She turned angrily to Mark. ‘I won’t have her say things like that about me.’ ‘Francesca, stop that,’ Mark snapped. She turned on him furiously. ‘You. Don’t you tell me what to do. You liar. You sly prick. I never want to see you again.’	LEARN_MORE	https://a.icomicapp.com/ad/ZVJlYWRlci80NDI0MTYvMjA	ICo010	https://www.facebook.com/100093538782712/	77	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	a.icomicapp.com	VIDEO		https://a.icomicapp.com/ad/ZVJlYWRlci80NDI0MTYvMjAyNTAyMjcxNTIzMzYvcGFnZQ==?adid={{ad.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481242959_1385907359064014_8429198670270481416_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=FDcAfXKMuV4Q7kNvgHf-cLr&_nc_oc=Adh9SIQ7GRxVnYzq4Q6nsBlOHXQHd0-0LyM2UFJy-kAOMh4pV6c0da_qbR63YEBMIiJl7KWJ0DWGOo6rn-KwT8KW&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A77LaBfyZ7asaS7SrKZnSgQ&oh=00_AYCJevY2bg4Wgu6E0LBJQk_JvaPYFKnydwD6CHDUVVJfIw&oe=67C72080	PERSON_PROFILE	ICo010	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,706,693	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	A1C Support Starter Pack	BLOCK CARBS & SUPPORT HEALTHY BLOOD SUGARS with Dr. Stephanie's: The GOLD STANDARD for supplements. ❤️ Boost your health naturally with powerful ingredients at doses that work. ✅Available at Walmart, CVS, Walgreens, & more. ✅Formulated by a doctor. ✅Clinically Studied Ingredients ✅ Tested for safety & purity.	SHOP_NOW	https://drstephanies.com/collections/blood-sugar-s	Dr. Stephanies	https://www.facebook.com/DrStephanies/	32,859	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	drstephanies.com	DCO	Dr. Stephanie's	https://drstephanies.com/collections/blood-sugar-support	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481043577_2395870630750333_319696910446558972_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=QKuHdiYPdDYQ7kNvgFFMKb_&_nc_oc=AdhDKEGoyHj7F9S5yKalN_Py0hmPpqWNKxatGOACa_GNgfIm4UZNBsCLaNNiWrVkt3EzKurWiG3di1oxOarRujcR&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AHKJlok4DNU1pDju8UVj2w_&oh=00_AYD_R0NBZjQcyTjIdSqYDOTy5RCk1LvoFQlyXM8RJxQsDg&oe=67C71678	PERSON_PROFILE	Dr. Stephanies	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,706,695	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706693}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	A1C Support Starter Pack	BLOCK CARBS & SUPPORT HEALTHY BLOOD SUGARS with Dr. Stephanie's: The GOLD STANDARD for supplements. ❤️ Boost your health naturally with powerful ingredients at doses that work. ✅Available at Walmart, CVS, Walgreens, & more. ✅Formulated by a doctor. ✅Clinically Studied Ingredients ✅ Tested for safety & purity.	SHOP_NOW	https://drstephanies.com/collections/blood-sugar-s	Dr. Stephanies	https://www.facebook.com/DrStephanies/	32,859	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	drstephanies.com	DCO	Dr. Stephanie's	https://drstephanies.com/collections/blood-sugar-support	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481043577_2395870630750333_319696910446558972_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=QKuHdiYPdDYQ7kNvgFFMKb_&_nc_oc=AdhDKEGoyHj7F9S5yKalN_Py0hmPpqWNKxatGOACa_GNgfIm4UZNBsCLaNNiWrVkt3EzKurWiG3di1oxOarRujcR&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AHKJlok4DNU1pDju8UVj2w_&oh=00_AYD_R0NBZjQcyTjIdSqYDOTy5RCk1LvoFQlyXM8RJxQsDg&oe=67C71678	PERSON_PROFILE	Dr. Stephanies	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,706,656	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706655}'	No	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Free Neuropathy Educational Class	Sign Up for Our Free Neuropathy & Nerve Pain Class. March 15th, 10 AM at FYZICAL Therapy & Balance Centers in Waukesha, WI. For many, neuropathy isn’t just discomfort—it’s life-changing. The burning, tingling, numbness, and sharp pain in the feet can make even the simplest tasks unbearable. Walking feels unstable, standing for long periods is painful, and restful sleep becomes a thing of the past. Many have been told that nothing can be done. But that’s simply not true anymore. Join a free workshop on March 15th at FYZICAL Therapy & Balance Centers - Waukesha, to learn about new treatments that is revolutionizing people's approach to Neuropathy & Nerve Pain. In this one-time event, attendees will discover: 🔹 The real cause of burning, tingling, and pain in the feet—and why it gets worse over time 🔹 The latest breakthrough treatments that are helping people regain feeling and function 🔹 What can be done now to start improving symptoms before they get worse This isn’t just another discussion about covering up symptoms. It’s about real solutions that are helping people experience relief and take back their mobility. Seating is limited—reserve a free spot now! 📍 W229N1416 Westwood Drive, Suite 4, Waukesha, WI, 53186 📅 March 15th, 10 AM	LEARN_MORE	https://info.fyzicalwaukesha.com/march-neuropathy-	Fyzical Therapy & Balance Centers- Waukesha	https://www.facebook.com/FyzicalWaukesha/	499	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	https://info.fyzicalwaukesha.com/march-neuropathy-...	DCO	{{product.description}}	https://info.fyzicalwaukesha.com/march-neuropathy-workshop	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480539699_1673790793561010_3181188659387636907_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=qU39U6LdGGUQ7kNvgFTx2h9&_nc_oc=Adg8bleenWhx6hyUfzkXevEq1OTMCqX-ydAhSmsOhXY9RcLT0H3qPMnre37jIJyPZybxKczb7R_ZbxB366uD2xwC&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A9F0tfwLKu62ZBgX_v21iLR&oh=00_AYD55HE8EdnIA0MSihbURbZECAV0vibk2JnvsFkjcKZ1KA&oe=67C73637	PERSON_PROFILE	Fyzical Therapy & Balance Centers- Waukesha	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,511	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706555}'	No	2025-02-28 00:31	active	2651	Take back your life and start living pain-free.	Struggling with nerve pain, and sleepless nights? Whether your discomfort is due to diabetes, age, or underlying health conditions... nerve pain can disrupt your life and sleep. It's essential to find a solution before another night of pain and discomfort takes its toll... Mama Bear Nerve Relief Lotion harnesses the power of magnesium to offer relief from nerve pain and sleep disturbances almost instantly. This special blend seeps deep into the skin, targeting the root cause of your neuropathic discomfort. Just a dab before bedtime is all it takes, and you can drift into a peaceful, deep sleep, free from nerve pain. Mama Bear Nerve Relief Lotion also comes with FREE Shipping & a 90-Day Money-Back Guarantee. Experience pain relief and restful nights or get your money back, guaranteed. ✅ Alleviates nerve pain ✅ Natural magnesium blend for effective pain relief (no harsh chemicals) ✅ Endorsed & loved by those suffering from neuropathy across the country for its effectiveness	SHOP_NOW	https://mamabearoasis.com/blogs/news/neuropathy?ut	Mama Bear Oasis	https://www.facebook.com/100088425910904/	4,507	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	mamabearoasis.com	DCO	{{product.description}}	https://mamabearoasis.com/blogs/news/neuropathy?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=paid&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{adset.name}}&utm_term={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/469798112_1722009608365653_6698305205902355028_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=gcJVJjbpE5AQ7kNvgGhN6sf&_nc_oc=AdhUywTyH8BMoMmUq45nNZ1HKMZuMHsuP3tqxwnZjx1OIzM_GZLdiqipWCpzpo_QHBmo1cJIIO8Tb1M6Y-sgk_us&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AduyuvuBqIgF_eqYRwt8uE9&oh=00_AYC56FV4DVBfiaXwFxqzkN_hC57RE7bEiOPmBQnQmV5Fag&oe=67C73AD3	PERSON_PROFILE	Mama Bear Oasis	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,706,894	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706885}'	No	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Watch more episodes on ShortMax🎬	😹This series is so incredible! I can't stop watching! Next episode is amazing!	INSTALL_MOBILE_APP	http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=live.	Short TV	https://www.facebook.com/61567660656967/	1,422	1969-12-31 18:00	Install now	play.google.com	VIDEO		http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=live.shorttv.apps	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/476906734_9104782002939323_6721571862025146689_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=izK1CYG4pLcQ7kNvgGXar0A&_nc_oc=Adi50ISr0abneX3ji1hXjJ5ovcHkKwwwGt6sxX8XI3kKX2YrWBFKg7uB0I0WomPPgFu01w5Gkdk4oAPa7Z3MEVrX&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ApCilCjXhPBKipbIcmxpMvC&oh=00_AYAXoTl7I_XUDKayOCxp0tpStPMJ4bzqirYVCIESaUvujw&oe=67C70FC5	PERSON_PROFILE	Short TV	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,068	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	New Drama short📺 True Love Waits ：Suddenly Married to a Billionaire	💞💓❤️😍This drama is really top-notch.Like💞 Lucky😍 I have no acting skills in emotional scenes.	WATCH_MORE	https://pages.farsunpteltd.com/?channel_id=28516&c	FlickReels 6	https://www.facebook.com/61566894822455/	7,462	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch more	pages.farsunpteltd.com	VIDEO		https://pages.farsunpteltd.com/?channel_id=28516&campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&campaign={{campaign.name}}&adgroup={{adset.name}}&ad_name={{ad.name}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481155513_1861271698023216_1845094102499818623_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=cJiZt7QF7NgQ7kNvgGcws2_&_nc_oc=AdhuYUvX2x7KFca3Zq33mczH02EpIvNZD8D9X34HZ-Jq7vGnl0QdAeU-KjVvaMRsp5aJ3SAQpK6RvIiWj-fHpC-a&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AsQsRN8fxRTOuJ0ShrcTO2v&oh=00_AYBpNpykqe9qEVOCw7Zivg6nVmJDlgb7B5paOp6Ra8D0Wg&oe=67C73E2E	PERSON_PROFILE	FlickReels 6	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,707,444	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2707436}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:31	active	2651	❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️	Chapter 1 She's Back At dawn, Odalys Stone cracked open her eyes, the sunlight pouring through the window making her squint. For a moment, she stared blankly, her mind groggy, before her gaze fell on the crooked calendar on the wall. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. She was back. Back to this godforsaken day—the day her life had been ripped apart. The day she was sold into a marriage from hell, betrayed by the very people she had called family, and ultimately killed. Hatred boiled in her veins, rising like a tide that threatened to drown her. But just as quickly, she forced it down, letting icy calm take its place. Her past life had already wrung every last drop of emotion out of her. Not this time. This time, she wasn't that naive, helpless girl. She was alive. And she was here to make them pay, every single one of them. The sound of heavy footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. A sharp knock rattled the door, followed by louder, more impatient banging. Before Odalys could even move, the door burst open with a deafening crash. A tall figure stormed in, grabbing her arm roughly and yanking her up. "Odalys Stone, are you fucking deaf?" Henry Bennett barked, his grip bruising, his expression one of pure rage. Her face turned glacial, her lips curling into a sneer. Without hesitation, she twisted his wrist sharply and shoved him away with enough force to make him stumble. As he regained his balance, blinking in stunned disbelief, Odalys calmly reached for her phone, pressing the record button without missing a beat. Henry gawked at her, his jaw slack. This wasn't the meek, obedient sister he knew—the one who flinched at his every word. She wasn't cowering or apologizing. She had fought back. "What the hell's gotten into you?" he spat, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "Do you think this is some kind of joke? The Stewarts are coming today, and you're still lying in bed? Do you want them to take Sophia instead? Is that it?" Odalys's gaze hardened, her voice cutting through his tirade like a knife. "Why, Henry? Isn't she the one engaged to him? Or is it because their son is dying that you want me to take her place? You're scared she'll end up a widow, but me? I'm just expendable, right?" His mouth opened and closed, his face turning an ugly shade of red. "Sophia is different," he muttered, his eyes darting away. "If people find out she's been married before, her life will be ruined." A bitter laugh escaped her lips, sharp and cold. "Oh, I see. Her reputation is sacred, but mine? That's disposable? How fucking convenient." Henry's fists clenched at his sides, his face twisting with anger. Before he could lash out, a frail figure appeared at the doorway. "Henry, stop," Sophia Bennett said, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She looked heartbreakingly pitiful, her wide eyes shimmering with sorrow. "I'll do it. I'll marry him, okay? If he dies, then... then I'll..." Her voice broke into sobs, her frail body shaking as though she might collapse. "Enough!" Hannah Bennett's voice sliced through the room like a whip. Odalys turned her gaze to her mother, who stood at the doorway flanked by her two brothers, Caspian and Atlas Bennett. Their faces were etched with fury, their contempt for her palpable. "Odalys," Caspian snapped, his fists tightening, "how can you be so heartless? Sophia is your sister. Are you really going to let her face this alone?" Atlas crossed his arms, his tone dripping with disgust. "We're not asking you to die. Just marry him for a while. Once he's gone, you'll come back safe and sound. What's the big deal?" Their audacity was almost laughable. Before her time travel, this might have broken her. She might have screamed, begged them to see reason, only to be crushed under their blackmail and cruelty. She had been drugged, stripped of her dignity, and forced into that cursed marriage. And when it became too much, she had ended it all in despair. But not this time. "Fine," she said coolly, her tone so steady it was almost unnerving. "I never said I wouldn't marry him." Taking a deep breath, Odalys straightened her shoulders, her lips curling into a calm, almost serene smile. Without a word, she walked to her desk, picking up a pen and paper. Her phone, still recording, caught every calculated move. The room fell silent. They exchanged confused glances, trying to figure out what game she was playing. A moment later, she turned back to them, holding out a document she'd just written. "Here's the deal—you're all signing this agreement to sever any and all family ties with me. I want it airtight, legally binding, and notarized. No bullshit, no loopholes. Once that's done, I'll marry the guy. Simple as that." Their stunned silence quickly turned to outrage. Atlas grabbed the document with a sneer, his voice dripping with mockery. "You? Cut ties with us? Who the hell do you think you are? Spit it out—how much do you want?" Henry didn't even hesitate. He pulled a sleek black card from his wallet and tossed it onto the table with a cold, detached expression. "Thirty thousand dollars. Take it and get out. Stop playing the victim—it's just a goddamn wedding. You're acting like we're sending you to the gallows." Sophia's eyes flickered with a momentary spark of relief when she saw the agreement, but she quickly smothered it with crocodile tears. "No, no, don't do this, sister!" Her voice cracked as she shook her head, her tone full of exaggerated despair. "I'll go. I'll marry him if that's what it takes. Please, don't fight with Mom and the boys because of me. It's my fault—I should've left the house the moment you came back if I'd known you felt this way." She spun around dramatically, her frail frame trembling with grief, and collapsed conveniently into Henry's arms. "Sophia," Henry murmured, holding her close like she was made of porcelain. He shot Odalys a glare filled with venom. "Is this what you wanted? To tear this family apart?" Odalys met his fury with icy detachment. "I'm not tearing anything apart. Just sign the damn agreement, get it notarized, and I'll go play your sacrificial lamb." Their angry, incredulous faces only fueled her inner amusement. 'Why did I waste so many years trying to please these people? Why did I beg for affection from people who wouldn't piss on me if I were on fire?' Once, she'd been their discarded daughter, tossed aside like trash while they paraded around their "replacement" — a shiny new girl they'd adopted to fill her spot. Meanwhile, Odalys had been left to fend for herself in the streets, barely surviving. If not for her mentor, she'd have been dead long ago. And yet, despite all that, she'd come back, hoping to earn their love, only to be betrayed in the cruelest way imaginable. But this time? This time, she wasn't here to beg. "You'll regret this!" Hannah's shrill voice snapped through the tension like a whip. She turned to the nearest servant and barked, "Get the lawyer. Now!" Her desperation was almost laughable—she wasn't worried about principle, only about Odalys backing out. The brothers exchanged uneasy glances but stayed silent, too afraid to challenge their mother. "Uh... yes, ma'am," the servant stammered before scurrying off. Henry stood frozen, his jaw clenched as he processed what was happening. "Mom, you're not seriously doing this, are you?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. But before he could get an answer, Sophia's soft sobs stole the spotlight. "Mom, let's not take it this far," Caspian chimed in, playing the concerned brother. "She's still family." Hannah's lips curled into a sneer, her eyes flashing with pure disdain. "This ungrateful brat thinks she can just walk away? Fine. Let her try. Without the Bennett name, let's see how far she gets in this world." The lawyer arrived moments later, looking thoroughly confused but professional as ever. Hannah shoved the document at him without hesitation, watching as it was officially notarized. Odalys took the signed agreement, her face calm and unreadable. She snapped a photo of it with her phone before slipping the papers into her bag. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "Move," she said coolly, her voice like a blade. "You're in my way." Hannah stood frozen, her fury simmering beneath the surface. Finally, she grabbed her phone and hurled it toward Odalys's retreating figure. "You selfish little bitch! Are you trying to kill me?!" But Odalys didn't even flinch. Her voice floated up the staircase, steady and sharp. "Are those the wedding gifts from the Stewart family?" "Yes, ma'am," a servant replied hesitantly. Everyone froze, their confusion quickly morphing into curiosity as they followed her downstairs. There, Odalys stood in the entryway, surveying the piles of lavish gifts stacked neatly by the door. She pulled out her ID and handed it to the nearest servant. "Go to the bank. Open a safety deposit box and store everything there." The servant blinked, visibly stunned. "Pardon me, ma'am?" Odalys arched a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. "What's the problem? Aren't these gifts for me?" "Y-yes, ma'am," he stammered, nodding quickly. At her command, a team of guards began loading the extravagant gifts back into the trucks. The grand Bennett estate erupted into chaos as workers scrambled to carry out her orders. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Hannah screamed, her voice hoarse with rage. Chapter 2 Wedding Gifts The Stewart family—everyone knew their name. They were the pinnacle of power, dripping in wealth, and way out of anyone else's league. The wedding gifts they sent weren't just generous—they were mind-blowing. Even without counting, it was obvious they were worth billions. For a family like the Bennetts? Getting tied to the Stewarts was nothing short of a miracle. They weren't even in the same universe. But fate had handed them a golden ticket. William Bennett and Evander Stewart had once fought together, shoulder to shoulder, in life-or-death battles. Somewhere along the way, they'd sealed a promise: a marriage pact between their future children. Initially, the Bennetts planned to marry off Sophia. It was a straightforward enough plan until bad news hit. The man she was supposed to marry was at death's door, and the whispers said he didn't have much time left. No way were they going to send Sophia into a marriage that'd turn her into a widow before it even began. Luckily—or unluckily, seven months ago, the Bennetts had found their long-lost biological daughter, Odalys Stone. And just like that, they had a perfect solution: send Odalys instead. She'd secure the Bennetts' connection to the Stewarts, widow or not. Sophia would be off the hook, and the family would still come out on top. It was a win-win—at least for everyone except Odalys. "What am I doing here?" Odalys said, her voice calm but laced with a sharp edge as she glanced around. She raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. "Well, obviously, I'm here to collect what's mine." She didn't bother hiding the amusement in her eyes. Watching the Bennetts fume while the Stewart family bodyguards loomed nearby was too satisfying. "What's wrong? Were you planning to keep it all for yourselves?" Her voice turned mockingly curious, her tone dripping with fake innocence. "Oh, wait—I get it. You're trying to screw me over because you think I'm just the backup bride, right?" Her words hit like a grenade. The bodyguards immediately paused their work, sharp eyes locking onto the Bennetts with unspoken suspicion. Hannah's face went pale, her heavily made-up features twisting in barely contained rage. She spat through gritted teeth, "If the Stewarts gave it to you, then fine. Take it. It's yours." "Damn right, it's mine." Odalys tilted her head, smirk still firmly in place. "Let's go, guys. Load it all up." The bodyguards didn't need to be told twice. They began reloading the boxes of gifts onto the waiting trucks. One of them rattled off the inventory under his breath. "Three boxes with three million dollars each. Two boxes of gold and diamond jewelry, 200 pieces total. One small box containing six property deeds for Crystal Cove villas. One small box with keys to 11 luxury cars." Sophia's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging so hard into her palms that she almost drew blood. Those gifts were supposed to be hers. Sure, she didn't want to marry into the Stewarts, but she'd never said she didn't want the spoils. And now, she thought Odalys was walking out with everything. Every last thing. Her chest tightened with rage, her breaths coming quick and sharp. 'Why? Why does she get to take what should be mine?' "Odalys Stone, don't you have any shame?" Hannah snapped, stepping forward with a trembling hand pointing at her. Her voice cracked with the effort to keep her anger in check. "Aren't you afraid people will laugh at you? Taking all this—it's disgusting." "Laugh? At me?" Odalys turned, her expression cool, her voice calm and mocking. "For what? Taking what my husband gave me? No, Mrs. Bennett, people aren't going to laugh. They're gonna be jealous as hell." Her lips curled into a cold smile, her eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Or is it you who's jealous?" Her gaze swept across the room, pausing on each familiar face. To her surprise, she didn't feel the anger she thought she would. The Bennetts didn't deserve her rage. What she felt instead was an eerie calm. She'd been here before, in another timeline. This time, she wasn't here to please anyone. This time, she was here to cut ties, burn bridges, and take what was hers. "These gifts belong to me because the Stewarts are marrying me. You got a problem with that?" Her voice was soft but carried an unmistakable edge. Each word hit like a slap. Her eyes scanned the room, finally settling on Sophia. Slowly, deliberately, she stepped forward. Sophia froze, her eyes darting nervously to the side as she stumbled back a step. Her gaze flickered to the boxes of gifts, jealousy and frustration swirling in her tear-filled eyes. She'd never wanted this to happen. Sure, she'd agreed to let Odalys take her place in the marriage, but she hadn't agreed to give her everything. And now, Odalys was walking away with it all. The thought made her stomach churn with rage and humiliation. "Odalys, how could you do this?" Sophia's voice wavered, trembling with fake sweetness as she bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. "You're upsetting Mom. If you take everything, what will the Stewarts think of our family?" Odalys Stone chuckled coldly, her hand gripping Sophia Bennett's chin with just enough force to make the other woman flinch. Leaning in, she lowered her voice, her tone dripping with venom. "And just who the hell do you think you are? A nobody foster kid, and you've got the balls to come at me?" Her lips twisted into a smirk, her gaze sharp and mocking. "What the Stewarts think of you? That's your problem, not mine." She added with a scoff, "Jealous, huh? Pathetic little bitch." Sophia froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. The insult landed like a slap, and for a moment, she couldn't even process it. She wanted to lash out, but with the Stewarts' people watching, she bit her tongue. All she could do was stomp her foot in frustration, her chest heaving as she struggled to keep her composure. "Odalys Stone, what the fuck is your problem?" Atlas barked as he stormed forward, his expression dark. He pulled Sophia behind him protectively, glaring at Odalys like he wanted to snap her in half. Odalys raised a brow, her smirk deepening. Without a word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door. When she reached it, she pulled a key from her pocket and flung it onto the floor. The sharp clink echoed through the room. Pausing in the doorway, she tossed a cold glance over her shoulder, her voice dripping with mockery. "And what are you gonna do about it? Or better yet, maybe she should be the one marrying instead?" The room fell into stunned silence as she walked out, her ponytail swishing in time with her confident strides. The Bennetts could only stand there, fuming, as the Stewarts' bodyguards continued hauling out the extravagant betrothal gifts without a care in the world. Hannah staggered, her face pale as she watched millions—billions—of dollars in gifts disappear. Her instincts screamed at her to do something, to stop them, but before she could act, Sophia grabbed her wrist in a panic. "Mom, don't! She's just trying to piss you off!" Sophia's voice cracked, panic lacing her words. "Once she calms down, she'll bring everything back. She's just throwing a tantrum—nothing more." But even as she said it, doubt flickered in Sophia's eyes. The truth was, everyone in Crownridge knew the situation with the Stewarts. Their patriarch was already at death's door, with the hospital issuing what was essentially a countdown to his final moments. Years ago, the Stewarts and Bennetts had been close, and the marriage was supposed to strengthen their bond. But now the Stewarts were rushing the wedding to bring some semblance of good fortune to a dying man. There wouldn't even be a ceremony. They'd sent the wedding gifts today with plans to take the bride immediately. The Bennetts, unwilling to let Sophia marry into such a grim situation, had shoved Odalys into the role instead. After all, she'd only recently been found after years of being lost and had no real connection to the family. The plan was simple: send her off, let her deal with the mess, and once the Stewart patriarch passed, bring her back. It was, in their minds, the perfect solution. Henry snorted, his tone filled with contempt. "She really thinks she can pull this shit? That's what happens when you let someone think they're equal to us. Time to remind her where she stands." Caspian leaned lazily against the wall, his lips quirking into a cruel smile. "Relax. Let her have her little moment. Once the bridegroom kicks the bucket, we'll drag her back here and teach her a lesson she won't forget. Let's see if she still thinks she's hot shit after that." But as they watched Odalys climb into the waiting car without so much as a glance back, a cold wind swept through the courtyard, sending a shiver down everyone's spine. The atmosphere shifted, the air growing heavy and unnervingly still. For the first time, an inexplicable unease settled over the Bennetts. In the backseat of the car, Odalys sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. The Bennett mansion shrank in the distance, shrouded in swirling clouds that seemed to darken the skies around it. The house looked cursed, like it was being swallowed whole by its own greed and malice. A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. Her mind was flooded with memories from her past life—memories that stung like open wounds. She could still feel the humiliation, the betrayal. The people she had once trusted—her own family—had stripped her bare, literally and figuratively. They'd recorded her, used the footage to blackmail her, and forced her to take Sophia's place. All for their own selfish gain, all to secure their position with the Stewarts. Chapter 3 You're Dying After her death, Odalys's soul drifted aimlessly, trapped in a limbo that felt endless. She couldn't move on, couldn't reincarnate—until an unknown, powerful force yanked her back into the living world, slamming her into a reality she wasn't sure she wanted. The memory made her fists clench tightly, her nails biting into her palms as her jaw set with cold determination. The sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of a sprawling courtyard mansion, its grandeur weighed down by an eerie stillness. The house seemed more like a relic than a home, its walls steeped in secrets and shadows. "Madam, Mr. Stewart is waiting for you upstairs," the butler, Dorian Huxley, said as he stepped aside, gesturing politely for her to follow. His tone was calm and measured, but it carried a quiet urgency. Odalys didn't respond. She stepped out of the car and into the courtyard, the oppressive silence pressing down on her like a physical weight. As she crossed the threshold, her gaze swept over the carefully arranged antiques in the living room—each piece meticulous, imposing, and completely lifeless. Her heels clicked against the polished wood floor as she climbed the stairs, each step reverberating in the stillness. At the top, she paused. A tall figure stood inside the room, his back to her, framed by sunlight filtering through the window. The light scattered across his broad shoulders, softening the harsh lines of his frame. She couldn't see his face, but his presence was unmistakable—commanding, unyielding, and suffocating. "You're Percival Stewart?" she asked, her voice steady, but low and cautious. The man turned slowly, deliberately. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Those eyes were cold, bottomless, and completely detached, like looking into a frozen void. He held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary before shifting his eyes away, the indifference in his expression sharp enough to cut. The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense, before he finally spoke. "This marriage? It's just my grandfather's dying wish," he said, his voice deep and rough, every word laced with disdain. "Don't waste your time thinking it means anything. There won't be a ceremony, no legal documents, nothing. Once I'm gone, you're free to leave." The bluntness of his words caught her off guard, but she didn't flinch. She just stared at him, taking in the man who had been a shadow in the past. In truth, she knew next to nothing about Percival Stewart. Before her time travel, she had died before the marriage ever happened. All she'd heard was that he was twenty-eight, the head of the Stewart family, and dying from some incurable illness. Beyond that, he was a mystery—a figure hidden behind the impenetrable walls of the Stewart dynasty. He was like an invisible king, ruling from the shadows, unchallenged but utterly alone. Before she could respond, a harsh, violent cough broke the silence. Percival's tall frame trembled slightly, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood filled the air, cutting through the faint scent of scented candle burning in the corner. "Mrs. Stewart, perhaps it's best if you retire to your room," Dorian said, stepping forward quickly. His voice was polite, but the urgency in his movements was impossible to miss. Odalys didn't move. Her sharp gaze stayed locked on Percival, ignoring the butler entirely. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing as the scent of blood grew stronger. It wasn't just a hint—it was thick, suffocating, and impossible to ignore. Percival felt her approach and shot her a warning glare, his expression hardening. "Go back to your room," he said, his voice rough and authoritative. He turned abruptly, his steps hurried and uneven as if trying to escape her scrutiny. But just as he moved past her, Odalys reached out and grabbed his arm. He froze instantly, his body tensing under her touch. He made a move to pull away, but she was faster. Twisting her grip, she held him in place, then reached up and grabbed his collar without hesitation. The sound of fabric tearing cut through the room like a slap. Percival's shirt split open, revealing a chest sculpted like stone, his bronze skin catching the fractured sunlight pouring in from the window. The room fell silent. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. Dorian stood frozen, his jaw slack with shock, his gaze darting between his mentor and the woman who had just ripped his shirt like it was nothing. No one saw it coming. Odalys, without hesitation, tore open Percival's shirt with a single, fluid motion. No one had ever dared to get this close to him before—let alone touch him. The speed and boldness of her actions left everyone in the room frozen, mouths agape. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Percival growled, his hand shooting up to clamp around her wrist with an iron grip. Her wrist was locked in his grasp, but Odalys didn't so much as flinch. Her eyes stayed locked on his chest, unblinking, studying his skin with laser focus. Beneath the smooth surface, something was moving—twitching, writhing, almost alive. It looked ready to tear through at any second. His veins bulged unnaturally, pushing against his flesh as though ready to explode. The air grew thick, the metallic tang of blood sharp enough to taste. Percival's body was a battleground, wracked with excruciating pain. It felt like shards of glass were tearing through him, breaking him apart piece by piece. His skin stretched taut, veins pulsating beneath it as if threatening to burst, and every nerve in his body screamed for relief. "Shit," he hissed through gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his temples. His face had gone pale, his jaw tight as he tried to suppress the pain. With great effort, he turned his icy glare on Dorian, who was frozen in the doorway, and the bodyguards lingering nearby, too stunned to move. "Take her back to her room," he ordered, his voice rough but unwavering despite the agony gripping him. "Yes, sir!" Dorian stammered, snapping into action and rushing toward Odalys, his face pale with fear. But before Dorian could reach her, Odalys made her move. She ignored the butler completely, her free hand lifting to press lightly against Percival's chest. The touch was almost playful, her fingertips tracing slow, deliberate patterns on his skin. Then, without warning, she shoved—hard. Percival froze, his entire body locking up. The moment her hand made contact, it sent a shockwave through him, like a current of electricity surging through his veins. The chaos beneath his skin—veins ready to rupture, blood cells fighting a violent war—suddenly stilled. The energy that had been raging inside him recoiled, like a storm abruptly silenced. His blood, moments away from tearing through his flesh, began to reverse its course. Thickened, frozen, and pushed back as though retreating from an unseen force. His heart seized painfully in his chest. "Ugh!" The sound ripped from his throat as dark blood spewed from his lips, splattering onto the floor. The black, foul-smelling liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth, its acrid stench filling the room. He staggered back a step, his pupils blown wide, his body trembling like it was ready to break apart. And then, suddenly, everything stopped. The agony gripping him moments ago faded to a dull ache. The sharp, relentless pressure vanished. His breathing steadied, his chest no longer heaving in pain. Slowly, cautiously, he glanced down at his body, expecting to see the usual horrors: split skin, torn veins, blood pouring from open wounds. But his skin was intact. No ruptures. No shredded flesh. No rivers of blood pooling at his feet. Aside from the dark blood he'd coughed up, he was fine. Whole. The pain, the chaos, the destruction that had always followed these episodes—it was gone. Percival's eyes snapped back to Odalys, shock flickering across his normally stoic face. She stepped back, her hand falling away as she regarded him with a calm, almost clinical detachment. Her gaze swept over him like she was piecing together a puzzle. "So the rumors are true," she said, her tone flat and disinterested. "You really are knocking on death's door." As she spoke, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping her fingers clean. "But since you already made it clear this marriage is just your grandfather's idea to 'ward off bad luck,' and you don't actually want to marry me, that works out perfectly. I wasn't planning on getting married anyway." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes sharp and calculating as they locked onto his. "Let me guess. Your doctors told you you've got less than a month to live, didn't they?" His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't deny it. Odalys smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth curving upward in a way that was both confident and infuriating. "So, here's the deal. I'll keep you alive for the next month. In return, you let me walk away when it's over. No strings attached." Percival's eyes narrowed, suspicion mingling with disbelief. "You're saying you can keep me alive for a month?" "That's exactly what I'm saying," she replied, her tone as steady as her gaze. She stepped closer, reaching out again. This time, her fingers brushed against the corner of his mouth, wiping away the blood that still lingered there. She brought her fingers to her nose, sniffing lightly before speaking again. "You're not dying as fast as they think. You're poisoned—badly—but it's not terminal yet. I can stabilize you. Give you some time." With that, she wiped her fingers clean on the handkerchief and tossed it into a nearby trash can, her movements smooth and deliberate. She met his gaze again, her expression unreadable but unshakable. "Clock's ticking, Stewart. Your move."s ------------------- There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book)	LEARN_MORE	https://fqwebsite.novellairs.com/share/middle/lsjv	Novellair-The Reading Room	https://www.facebook.com/61558704884181/	496	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fqwebsite.novellairs.com	VIDEO		https://fqwebsite.novellairs.com/share/middle/lsjvoxuerezeq002ezsi5usq?campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&campaign={{campaign.name}}&adgroup={{adset.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481196147_1141523951034953_2855797343343592727_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=CMQ4I1Z3Fs4Q7kNvgHBoucG&_nc_oc=AdgIwGgB4UPs7IfwhBHvzgPC_jlcuXI0Qoi0Alt1fcPuboIwFguE7-wC4fi1X3jDIQ905K1I7hsujbik3ijuH2Cf&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=An1a0VAwW_Q6qHZz1Xgg63V&oh=00_AYDVpavqf3tKSeCp3JVRWZDGzyDVMSsrJXlckV60rTFqbA&oe=67C73C79	PERSON_PROFILE	Novellair-The Reading Room	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,707,335	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2707166}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	❤️😍Continue reading👉👉👉	"Be honest. Did you ever sleep with Elaine?" The deep, low voice cut through the crack in the door, freezing me in my tracks. My hand hovered over the doorknob. Through the narrow gap, I could see Logan Mercer lounging on the couch, his jaw tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. "She's tried," he said flatly. "But I wasn't interested." "Come on, Logan," his best friend, Caleb Turner, replied with a laugh that carried a hint of disbelief. "Don't sell her short. Everyone knows Elaine's gorgeous. She's got half the guys in our circle chasing after her." Logan tipped his head back slightly, his brows pulling together. "You don't get it. We've known each other too long. It's like…" He hesitated, searching for the words. "It's like knowing what's behind every door before you open it. There's no mystery left." My chest tightened as I listened from the hallway. I first met Logan when I was fourteen. Back then, everyone told me he was the person I'd marry. I was sent to live at the Mercer estate, and for ten years, we'd been tied together—sharing a house, a life, a future, or so I thought. Caleb chuckled, breaking my thoughts. "So you're saying you see too much of her? What, you know how many times she sneezes in a day? How often she checks the mirror?" His teasing tone shifted into something more reflective. "You know, Logan, relationships don't work like that anymore. People want excitement. They crave the chase. It's only fun when you can't have what you want." Logan didn't respond. He just sat there, smk curling up from the cig he'd lit. "So," Caleb pressed, leaning forward, "are you still going to marry her?" My breath caught. Logan' parents had pushed for us to get married, but he'd never given me a clear answer. I hadn't dared to ask. Now, Caleb was doing it for me. Logan exhaled a slow stream of smk, his silence stretching into the room. "Not answering, huh?" Caleb smirked. "Let me guess. You don't want to marry her." "That's not it," Logan replied, his tone clipped. "Then what? You're willing to marry her, but you're not exactly thrilled about it?" Caleb's grin widened, as if he'd struck a nerve. He knew Logan too well. Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ever heard this saying?" he asked. Caleb raised an eyebrow. "What saying?" "Some things hold no real value, but you still can't seem to let them go." The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My grip tightened on the marriage license application I was holding, the paper crumpling slightly beneath my fingers. "So," Caleb said, his voice quieter now, "what's it going to be? Are you marrying her or not?" Logan glanced up, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. "Why do you care so much? Are you interested in her? If you want, I'll give her to you." It wasn't just the words, but the way he said them—detached, careless, as though I were an object he was ready to discard. I felt something inside me crack. Logan might not have cared, but I had given him ten years of my life. Ten years during which he'd become my whole world. And now, he was treating me like nothing. Caleb scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that desperate." He stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "But seriously, Logan, if you don't want her, let her go. She deserves better." Logan stubbed out his cig, the motion sharp and deliberate. "Get out, Caleb. You're just here to stir up trouble." Caleb shrugged. "I'm not the one stirring up trouble. That's all on you." He turned toward the door. When he opened it, he froze. I was standing there, still clutching the marriage license application. My legs felt stiff, my fingertips numb. "Elaine," Caleb said, his voice unusually cautious. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then forced a small smile. "Were you looking for Logan? He's inside." I couldn't speak. My throat felt dry, and my heart was pounding in my ears. Caleb's gaze flicked to the paper in my hands. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "You should think about what you really want." His shoulder brushed mine as he walked past, leaving me standing there, motionless. The application form felt unbearably heavy in my hands, the weight of it pressing down on me like a stone. After what felt like an eternity, I swallowed hard, forced myself to breathe, and pushed the door open. Chapter 2 The soft rustle of paper caught Logan' attention. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. I didn't need a mirror to know how grim my expression was. "You look pale," he said, frowning slightly. "Are you feeling unwell?" Without answering, I walked over to his desk, my fingers tightening around the marriage license application in my hand. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I finally spoke. "If you don't want to marry me, I can tell your mom myself." His frown deepened. He knew I'd overheard everything. My voice cracked as I continued, "I never thought I'd end up being a burden to you, Logan—" "Elaine," he cut in, his tone calm but firm. "To everyone else, we're already like a married couple." I froze. Was that why? Because it looked right to everyone else? I wanted him to marry me because he loved me, not because it was convenient. Logan capped the pen in his hand with a quiet click, his gaze dropping to the crumpled application form I was holding. "We'll register next Wednesday," he said, the words flat, emotionless. It was what I thought I wanted to hear. But instead of relief, I felt a heavy ache deep in my chest. I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to force yourself. I'm not some charity case." "Elaine Hart." His voice turned sharp. I flinched and looked up, meeting his impatient gaze. He held out his hand. "Give it to me." I didn't move. The air between us grew tense, heavy. After a few seconds, he sighed, stood, and crossed the short distance between us. His tall frame towered over me as he exhaled softly, his frustration tempered with a strange gentleness. "I was joking with Caleb," he said, his voice quieter now. "Did you really take it seriously?" Was it really just a joke? "You know how men are," he added, his tone almost dismissive. "Prideful. Stupid." He reached out, his hand sliding down my arm until it found mine. His grip was firm yet strangely comforting. Slowly, he pried the document from my grasp. "Don't let something like this get to you," he said, his voice steady, almost coaxing. With that, he turned away and tucked the application form into a desk drawer. Then, grabbing his coat, he added, "I need to step out for a bit." He'd been doing that a lot lately—leaving without explanation, staying out longer each time. Before he could pass me, I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence. "Logan." He stopped. "Do you like me?" I asked, my words trembling slightly but firm enough to demand an answer. He turned slowly, his dark eyes studying me. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening his features. A dimple appeared on his left cheek. Logan looked good when he smiled—too good. I still remembered the first time I saw that smile, ten years ago. I had just arrived at the Mercer estate, a scared girl of fourteen, and he had ruffled my hair and called me "kid." That smile had felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds, warming a part of me I didn't even know existed. Even now, that same smile still had the power to undo me. He reached out, his large hand resting lightly on my head, his fingers ruffling my hair in the same casual, familiar way. "Of course I like you," he said, his voice soft. "Why else would I go across the city to get you roasted pears when you're sick? Or buy you your favorite roses every birthday? Or watch meteor showers with you, even though I hate staying up late?" He paused, his hand sliding from my head to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. "And why else," he added, "would I want to marry you?" His words should've comforted me. They should've been enough. But they weren't. I stared at him, unwilling to let it go this time. "Do you like me romantically?" His hand froze mid-motion. The smile faded from his face. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. His hand dropped to his side, and he let out a soft chuckle, as if I'd asked something foolish. "Don't overthink things," he said lightly. "Come on, let's go home after work. You like fish, right? I'll have someone send over some fresh salmon and cook it for you tonight." Then he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there in the quiet, his words hanging in the air like smoke. He'd dodged the question. Again. The faint scent of his hand cream lingered in the space between us, and the warmth of his touch still burned on my cheek. But my heart felt cold. Logan treated me well. He pampered me. He cared for me. But his affection felt… familial. Like that of an older brother looking after a younger sister. And yet, despite everything, I couldn't stop myself from loving him. I had loved him for ten years. But what now? Should I marry him, knowing that we might spend the rest of our lives together as nothing more than companions, our intimacy stripped of passion and romance? Or should I let him go, even if it meant breaking my own heart, so he could find someone he truly loved? Chapter 3 I couldn't stop thinking about the question all day. It lingered in the back of my mind, unanswered, gnawing at me. By the time Logan came to pick me up that afternoon, I still didn't know what I wanted to do. And yet, I followed him anyway. Habit was a terrifying thing. Ten years was all it took to tether me to this routine—him, the Mercer Estate, and the unspoken understanding that I would always be there. "Why are you so quiet?" he asked, glancing at me as he drove. He must have noticed my mood. I hesitated, my fingers fidgeting with the strap of my bag. Finally, I worked up the courage to say, "Logan, maybe we should—" Before I could finish, his phone rang. The car display lit up with an unlisted number. I saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. It wasn't like him to look nervous. I turned to study his face, but his expression was unreadable. Without a word, he tapped the screen, switching the call to Bluetooth. "Hello. … Yeah, I'm on my way." The call was brief, but his voice was clipped, his tone unnaturally tense. When it ended, he glanced at me, his jaw tight. "Elaine, something urgent came up. I can't take you home." I knew what he was going to say before he said it. It wasn't the first time. Still, foolishly, I'd hoped he'd at least take me back before running off. My chest ached, but I forced myself to keep my voice steady. "Is something wrong?" He didn't answer. Instead, his gaze shifted to the road ahead as he pulled into a temporary parking spot. "Get off here and grab a taxi," he said, his tone brisk. I stared at him, searching for some kind of explanation, but he offered none. He didn't even bother to lie. What could I say to that? Begging for answers would only humiliate me further. "Text me when you get home," he added, already reaching for the gearshift. I nodded stiffly, clutching my backpack as I climbed out of the car. The cool air hit my face as I stood on the sidewalk, watching his car merge back into traffic. He didn't look back. I already knew. From the call to his unwillingness to explain, I could feel it—something wasn't right. But I didn't ask. I didn't want to peel back the thin, fragile layer of denial that kept me sane. "Be careful on your way home," he called out the window before speeding off. I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty stretch of road where his car had disappeared. My chest felt hollow, my feet rooted to the spot. My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Nora, my best friend. "Elaine, where are you? Want to grab dinner?" Nora was a gynecologist, sharp-tongued and brilliant. She never minced words, which was exactly what I needed right now. "Sure," I said without hesitation. Nora sounded surprised. "Wow, you didn't even check with Logan first? Did the sun rise in the west today?" I managed a dry laugh, but her words hit a little too close to home. For years, I'd lived as if my entire life revolved around Logan. Every plan, every decision—always prefaced with, "Let me check with him first." "Where are you right now?" I asked, changing the subject. She rattled off an address, and I hailed a taxi to meet her. The moment she saw me, Nora's sharp eyes narrowed. "What happened? Did you and Mr. Perfect have a fight?" She was one of the few people I could confide in, so I told her everything. When I finished, her expression darkened. "Men are the worst," she muttered, stirring her drink with unnecessary force. "He thinks you're boring? Insipid? As if he's some kind of prize. Has he even slept with you?" Her bluntness made my cheeks burn. I shook my head, embarrassed. Nora rolled her eyes. "Exactly. What a jerk. If he spent ten years with you and hasn't even tried, it's not respect, Elaine. It's disinterest." Her words stung because they were true. There had been moments—like the time I'd gotten drunk and kissed him. But instead of kissing me back, he'd gently pulled away and sent me to bed. At the time, I thought it was because he respected me, that he didn't want to take advantage of me. But now, I realized it was because he didn't want me. Wasn't there a saying? That if a man loved a woman, he'd want her. He'd desire her. Logan had never shown that kind of desire. Not once. "I think," I said slowly, my voice trembling, "I want to give up." Nora's eyes softened. She reached across the table and clinked her glass against mine. "Good. You deserve better. There are plenty of guys out there, Elaine. With your looks, you could have anyone." She wasn't wrong. At eighteen, I'd won a beauty pageant. There had been offers for modeling, even acting. If Logan hadn't stopped me, I might have had a career in the spotlight. Over the years, countless men had tried to win me over. But I had eyes for only one. And he didn't want me. The thought made my throat tighten. I pushed back my chair and mumbled an excuse, hurrying to the restroom before Nora could see the tears threatening to spill. I was so distracted I didn't notice the man stepping out of the restroom until it was too late. We collided, and I stumbled, knocking him to the ground. "I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, reaching out to help him up. But before I could, he shrieked, "Help! Someone's trying to molest me!" His voice rang through the hallway, loud and panicked. My jaw dropped. What just happened? Chapter 4 I never thought I'd find myself sitting in a police station, accused of indecency. The boy I'd accidentally knocked down—who turned out to be a seventeen-year-old named Kian Vaughn—insisted I'd done it on purpose. His story was as absurd as it was infuriating. "She touched me!" Kian declared dramatically, pointing at me like I was a criminal. The officer leaned forward, his expression carefully neutral. "Where exactly did she touch you?" Kian's face lit up with faux indignation as he pointed to his chest and then below his waist. "Here. And here!" I stared at him, dumbfounded. What in the actual hell? I nearly shouted my disbelief out loud. Me, a woman who hadn't even touched Logan—someone I'd been in love with for ten years—was suddenly being accused of assaulting a brat who hadn't even finished puberty. The officer turned his attention to me, his expression skeptical. "I didn't touch him," I said quickly, my voice firm. "I bumped into him by accident. That's it." "Had you been drinking?" he asked, his tone pointed. I blinked, caught off guard. Was that really relevant? But in this world, a drunk man was just a man. A drunk woman? She was indecent. "Yes," I admitted. "I had a bottle of beer." The officer raised an eyebrow, his disbelief clear. I sighed, frustrated. "Look, I wasn't drunk, and I definitely didn't ‘take advantage' of this kid." My words came out sharper than intended, but I was too irritated to care. The officer made a note of my statement before turning back to Kian. "Are you absolutely sure about your accusation? You're aware filing a false report is a crime, right?" Kian crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm sure. She touched me." I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to strangle him. Before I could say something I'd regret, Kian's face suddenly brightened. His gaze shifted to the doorway. "Selene, you're here!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with childish glee. I turned to see who had arrived, ready to plead my case to his family. But the sight of the two people walking in stopped me cold. The woman was stunning, with long black hair cascading down her back and a flowing white dress that made her look ethereal. She was the kind of woman men imagined as their first love—soft, gentle, perfect. Her name was Selene Vaughn. And standing right next to her was Logan. My heart sank like a stone. "Kian, what happened?" Selene asked, her voice full of concern as she knelt in front of him. Kian ignored her question entirely, his attention locked on Logan. "Hey, Selene, is he my new brother-in-law?" Logan' expression froze. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing, his gaze hardening as it shifted to me. "Elaine," he said, his tone cold and clipped. "What's going on here?" "Brother-in-law, do you know her?" Kian interrupted, pointing at me with exaggerated outrage. "She's a hooligan! She touched me here and here—" He gestured to his chest and groin again, like he was auditioning for a bad soap opera. I didn't have the energy to explain anymore. I just stared at Logan, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He'd been gone for a few hours. Just a few hours. And now he was someone's "brother-in-law"? Was this why he'd left so suddenly earlier? Selene stood and turned to me, her expression polite but distant. "Elaine, right? I'm Selene, Kian's sister." Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. I was surprised she even knew my name. But then again, I was Logan' shadow, his accessory. Anyone who knew him would know me. I swallowed hard, forcing the bitterness down. "I accidentally knocked your brother over. That's all. I didn't do what he's accusing me of." Selene's lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. "I believe you. Kian can be... dramatic." Without warning, she turned and smacked Kian lightly on the back of his head—twice. "Stop causing trouble," she scolded, her tone gentle but firm. She explained the situation to the officer while the police checked the surveillance footage. Unsurprisingly, the video proved my innocence. The officer sighed, looking at Selene. "Since you two know each other, you can settle this privately. Otherwise, the boy will need to be detained for filing a false report." Selene immediately tugged on Logan' sleeve, a small, intimate gesture that sent a pang through my chest. Logan had always been distant with people. His guarded nature kept most at arm's length, and he hated being touched. But Selene? She seemed to bypass all of that effortlessly. And judging by the lack of reaction from Logan, this wasn't the first time she'd done it. There was an ease between them that I didn't want to analyze too deeply. I opened my mouth to say something, but Logan spoke before I could. "It's fine," he said curtly. "It was a misunderstanding. Let's drop it." Before I could process his words, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, firm and unyielding. Without another word, he pulled me out. Chapter 5 Logan' hand gripped mine so tightly that it hurt. He didn't say a word at first, but his jaw was clenched, his anger radiating off him like heat. "Elaine," he said, his tone low and biting. "Did you go to the bar to drink? Is this your idea of revenge? Acting out just because of something I said?" I blinked, stunned. Revenge? Was that really what he thought? His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with an intensity I rarely saw. The raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration—momentarily silenced me. It was almost… possessive. For a brief moment, the bitterness in my chest eased. Maybe, just maybe, he cared. If he only saw me as a sister or a friend, he wouldn't care so much about what happened. "No," I repeated firmly. "I didn't—" Before Logan could respond, Kian swaggered out of the building, wearing his trademark smirk. He whistled as if he hadn't just caused chaos. "Hooligan," he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "What are you trying to do now? Seduce my brother-in-law?" I bit back a groan. Some people were born to test your patience, and Kian Vaughn was one of them. As he walked toward me, his cocky grin widened, and I couldn't help but glance at Selene. She stood nearby, her expression carefully composed, the perfect picture of innocence. But I couldn't forget the way she'd touched Logan earlier—light, casual, intimate. The memory burned in my mind. Acting on impulse, I reached out and took Logan' arm. His muscles tensed under my touch, but he didn't pull away. "You're talking nonsense again," Selene said, her voice soft as she stepped forward and pinched Kian's arm. Her chastising tone came with a faint smile, like she was used to handling his antics. She turned to me with an apologetic look. "Elaine, I'm so sorry." "It's not your fault," Logan said before I could respond. His voice was firm, his eyes locked on Kian. "And you," he added, his tone sharp, "this is your last warning. Cause trouble again, and no one will save you." Kian, defiant as ever, glared up at him. "Who do you think you are? You're not my dad. I'll only listen to you if you marry my sister and actually become my brother-in-law." "Kian!" Selene hissed, her face flushing with embarrassment. She smacked his arm harder this time, but he dodged her, laughing. "Don't act like you don't know," Kian taunted, his voice loud and obnoxious. "He likes you, Selene. Why else would he spend all his time with you? Day and night, taking care of you like you're the only person in the world?" My grip on Logan' arm tightened involuntarily. Day and night. The words struck a nerve. Logan had barely been home these past weeks, disappearing for hours on end without notice. I'd tried to dismiss it, telling myself he was busy with work. But now, hearing Kian's words, the truth felt undeniable. He'd been with Selene. Of course, I knew why. She was his late best friend's widow. It made sense for him to take care of her after her husband's tragic death. But every day? To the point where her own brother saw it as something more? "What are you even talking about?" Selene snapped, her voice trembling as she hit Kian again, harder this time. He raised his hand instinctively to block her, but the motion caught her off balance. Selene staggered, her heels slipping on the pavement. "Watch out!" Logan shouted. I felt a shove, and before I could steady myself, I stumbled backward. By the time I regained my footing, Logan was already by Selene's side. He knelt on one knee, holding her as if she were made of glass. "Selene, are you okay?" His voice was frantic, his hands steadying her. "Where does it hurt?" Her face twisted in pain as she clutched his arm. "My stomach," she whimpered. "It hurts, Logan." "Don't worry," he said, his voice trembling. "I'll take you to the hospital. You're going to be okay." I stood frozen, watching the scene unfold like an outsider. I'd seen Logan in countless situations—calm, composed, in control. But now? He was panicking. For her. Not once in ten years had I ever seen him look at me like that. "Elaine!" Logan barked, snapping me out of my daze. "Get in the car. You're driving." For a moment, I couldn't move. "Hurry up!" Kian shouted, storming over to me. He grabbed my arm roughly, and something inside me snapped. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him. The sharp crack echoed in the air. Kian stumbled back, his cheek already reddening with the imprint of my fingers. He touched his face, stunned, before his expression twisted in anger. "You—" he hissed, lifting his hand as if to strike me back. "Kian!" Logan' voice cut through the tension like a blade. "If you touch her, I'll make sure you go back inside." Kian froze, his hand hovering mid-air. After a moment, he lowered it, glaring at both Logan and me before stomping off. "Kian!" Selene called after him weakly, but her voice gave way to a pained cry as she clutched her stomach again. "Logan… It hurts," she whimpered. "Please, take me to the hospital." Logan didn't hesitate. "Elaine!" he barked again. I swallowed the lump in my throat and climbed into the driver's seat. Selene groaned in pain as Logan helped her into the backseat, his voice low and soothing as he reassured her. "Doctor!" Logan shouted the moment we arrived at the hospital. "She's pregnant, and she just fell. She's in a lot of pain!" Pregnant? The word echoed in my mind, heavy and disorienting. My legs felt like they were weighed down with lead as I stood there, unable to move. My chest tightened, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Selene's husband was dead. How could she be pregnant? My gaze drifted to Logan. His face was taut with panic, his eyes fixed on the door to the emergency room. He looked so anxious, so desperate. Was he... was he worried because the baby was his?	INSTALL_MOBILE_APP	http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.t	ReadStory	https://www.facebook.com/61570605681062/	22	1969-12-31 18:00	Install now	play.google.com	IMAGE		http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.tapread.reader	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480959916_622911757112437_6612953762545331339_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=-Twk3CEZmCMQ7kNvgEiO-4V&_nc_oc=AdgjpaqbQPBnuAk8vAHuy0DVoYZxcGA19xJ6xOZUR8nYNaQJKDTAXln6N0CASCQ7anIa2aprk82dIzH2dCQ3mmV4&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AxN8BIPl7PJcj6alJ1dPeZW&oh=00_AYCZSS2YBKlBj505fulQxovN39beNeYJf4xzhR5YLMVrZw&oe=67C71D45	PERSON_PROFILE	ReadStory	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,128	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2707127}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Cardiologist: Belly fat after 50? Put this in your shoes	New Breakthrough: Japanese Insoles that Help You Lose Belly Fat	LEARN_MORE	https://akusoliinsoles.zeper.site/	IBracket	https://www.facebook.com/61556879296592/	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	akusoliinsoles.zeper.site	DCO	New Breakthrough: Japanese Insoles that Help You Lose Belly Fat	https://akusoliinsoles.zeper.site/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481086714_28752107454434665_3244821328458838382_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=F8zeDwGeGnYQ7kNvgGwfQn-&_nc_oc=AdgXAmUbZ8aZKP93s6lQbtoaOxYSi8B8Q_ugqIJgq9x27WjQBnDxLuSc-iMIj-6VY7icgpAyOMbmeJhD-HyfOu9g&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A0AoMVF0Z6yyibJ8fZDQIFt&oh=00_AYBdOHcKr0WJfBxqE9METbMWsaMvHY0IIr8NsYCdkD8hjQ&oe=67C727AF	PERSON_PROFILE	IBracket	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,034	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706774}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	$39 Spinal Decompression Treatment	Hey Boise! Do You Experience Back Pain, Neck Pain, Headaches, Joint Pain, Stress, Muscle Discomfort, Or Poor Posture? For the Next Week, we are giving away 50 Vouchers for a Full Spinal Decompression Treatment, a Detailed Nerve & Spinal Examination, a Health History Consultation, Digital X-Rays (if required) with a Report of Findings and a Personalized Adjustment Treatment Plan, all for just $39 Dollars! (Normally a $345 Total Value) Ready to take control and start alleviating pain? Click Below to sign up and claim your VOUCHER!⁣	LEARN_MORE	http://fb.me/	Keystone Physical Medicine Boise	https://www.facebook.com/61564522824988/	6	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fb.me	IMAGE	Book Your Appointment Today!	http://fb.me/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480795975_697554472596605_8762278360763372668_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=EdEUcVele-gQ7kNvgHAn6jl&_nc_oc=AdgzrxWcmAv98hItrMrInbXYFPWqvcPjso6KovDDf9CkeMGrutYygxmokpMjQDiwWKK2GBixy3nk6aL4N-JQQMrb&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AHK_PnpbPVEy01dC3uFuyqI&oh=00_AYB6RTlakQSvZZAaTwuTUWABxqEtBsGcbNx7nMKOi7ixGw&oe=67C72BCE	PERSON_PROFILE	Keystone Physical Medicine Boise	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,292	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Try risk-free for 90 days – not satisfied? Money back!	Relieve Back Pain, Herniated Disc & Pinched Nerves – in Just 15 Minutes a Day! Experience long-lasting relief with advanced NMES technology – no medication needed. ✅ Relieves back pain, herniated disc discomfort & muscle tension ✅ Reduces swelling and improves blood circulation ✅ A simple & pain-free solution with no side effects ✅ Try it risk-free for 90 days Up to 60% off, be quick as stock is limited. 👉 shoprelivex.com/products/multifunctional-massager	SHOP_NOW	https://shoprelivex.com/products/multifunctional-m	ReliveX	https://www.facebook.com/relivex.nl/	2,840	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop Now	shoprelivex.com	DCO	{{product.description}}	https://shoprelivex.com/products/multifunctional-massager	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480799855_1695266178080233_8680428899468269581_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=KJEOTSm4TLUQ7kNvgGwsVA7&_nc_oc=AdiG3GoBVTMnai-QokJwMY81bxRIzVBl3ZXp3A9lBi0gR3g6O5sXSX_EtikeB5ysTyKfIRltC622h1LLd2tLZdva&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AnBDYmReg_8rhxZYQa2-VQa&oh=00_AYADGb-Kr2PvhyW6lxr97hglB3f-2phzyiaQD0nlCXzA4A&oe=67C719E2	PERSON_PROFILE	ReliveX	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,311	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2707095}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	For seven years, I've been Castro Harrison's secret lover. Our love was hidden in the shadows, but his kisses and promises kept me willing to stay. I thought he would finally acknowledge me—until that day when I overheard him talking with his friends. It turned out I was nothing more than a substitute. That night, I finally stepped into the room he had forbidden me from entering. On the desk, there was a picture frame—inside, a photo of him and another woman locked in a tight embrace, the Eiffel Tower in Paris in the background. At that moment, my heart turned completely cold. I erased every trace of myself in a single night and left without looking back. One minute before my flight took off, I sent my brother a message. "This afternoon, have the man you chose come and register the marriage." For seven years, I've been in a secret relationship with Castro Harrison, my brother's best friend. Just as I was hoping he'd propose, I tracked his location to a private lounge at an upscale restaurant, where I found they were joking about me. "Castro, now that Oriana's back from London, what are you going to do about that replacement?" Castro remained silent, his lack of response speaking volumes. The tension in the air was broken by another friend's sardonic laugh. "You've got to hand it to Castro–having the nerve to pursue William Blackwood's sister while Oriana was away. Now that you've had your fun, and Oriana's back..." "Well, Oriana deserved it after how coldly she left. A replacement was just what she needed to teach her a lesson!" ...... The next day, Castro took me to Oriana's welcome-home party at the Blackwood Estate, lavishing attention on me with an almost theatrical display of affection. But when Oriana ran out in tears, her Chanel dress stained with wine, Castro pushed me aside without a second thought and rush out. I returned home alone, my cream silk blouse ruined by scalding soup and my skin was still stinging. With trembling hands, I finally opened the door to his study---the one room he'd always declared off-limits. There, prominently displayed on his mahogany desk, was a photograph of him and Oriana in Paris, the Eiffel Tower gleaming behind their embracing figures. My heart turned to ice as I dialed my brother's number in Switzerland. "William... about that arranged marriage–I'll do it." "Aveline?" My brother's voice softened with concern, catching the unfamiliar strain in my tone. "What's wrong? This doesn't sound like you at all." A lump formed in my throat, but I forced a light laugh. "Nothing's wrong. I just realized - marriage is inevitable, isn't it? Does it really matter who it is?" "Besides," I continued, trying to keep my voice steady. "I trust your and father's judgment. Even for a business merger marriage, I know you would have vetted the candidate thoroughly." William's relief was audible through the phone. "I'm glad you're being sensible about this. When are you coming back? Would you like to meet him first before making your final decision?" "No need. The sooner we proceed, the sooner we can resolve the company's crisis. Go ahead and start planning the wedding. Let's set it for... a month from now." "Perfect! By the way, have you heard from Castro?" he coninued, "His first love is finally back in town. You should invite him to the wedding - let him share in your happiness." So William knew about Oriana too. No wonder Castro never let me tell my brother about us. I lowered my eyes, concealing the pain that threatened to spill over. "Don't bother him, Will. We're... not that close." Hearing the door unlock, I quickly said goodbye and ended the call. I looked up to find Castro leaning against the doorframe, his signature smirk playing across his lips. "Not close to whom?" "You." My honest answer only made his smirk widen as he pulled me into his arms. "Oh really?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Should we discuss just how 'not close' we are? All those nights together weren't close enough?" His breath was hot against my ear, and for the first time, his intimate gesture made my skin crawl instead of flutter. As I struggled, I caught sight of the lipstick stain on his collar - a shade I'd never worn. The movement aggravated my scalds, sending sharp stabs of pain through my body until tears sprang to my eyes. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?" My tears seemed to spark genuine panic in Castro. When he pushed up my sleeve and saw the angry red scalds on my wrist, his voice trembled with concern. “God, when did this happen? Why didn't you tell me you were scalded?” He seemed to have completely forgotten about the incident at the party. I remained silent, unsure whether to remind him and shatter his façade of devotion. "Stop crying, darling. Let me get some medicine for that." He stroked my hair soothingly before standing to retrieve the first aid kit, muttering as he walked. "You're still such a child sometimes, aren't you? So sensitive to pain, so quick to tears. What would you do without me?" I stared numbly at the scalds on my wrist. Yes, what would I do without him after seven years of his "protection"? But Castro... I don't want you anymore. I don't want this false love anymore! I spent a restless night, tossing and turning, my skin clammy with fever sweat on the sheets. At dawn, Castro tried to coax me out of bed. When I mumbled protests and pushed him away, he leaned in with an amused smile to kiss me. For the first time in seven years, his kiss made me flinch. My hand instinctively rose to slap him but I caught myself. Thankfully, it was just a brief peck. "Awake yet, sleeping beauty?" he teased. I turned away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "It's Saturday. Why can't you let me sleep?" His expression softened with concern. "You were running a fever last night. Come on, we need to get you to the hospital." Though I felt better, his insistence won out and I reluctantly got dressed. In the hospital corridor, we ran into Oriana. She was hobbling along alone, clearly having injured her ankle. Castro's gentle demeanor vanished instantly. His brow furrowed with worry as he rushed to her side, steadying her with his hands. "What happened to you?" Oriana gave him a warm smile, then glanced meaningfully at me. "Just twisted my ankle. What a coincidence seeing you both here." Castro tensed, throwing me a quick, guilty look. "Ah yes, my friend's sister wasn't feeling well. Brought her in to check her fever." I was long used to this charade. From the moment Castro decided to keep our relationship secret, he'd introduced me to all his friends as his best friend's sister who he'd promised to look after. Only his innermost circle knew the truth about us. "You're such a good guardian to the poor girl." Oriana nodded sympathetically. Well, don't let me keep you - my appointment's down that way." She gestured toward a clinic door further down the hall. When she started to hop again, Castro didn't hesitate. He swept her up into his arms bridal-style. "Let me take you there." he said eagerly, "Aveline, wait here for me, alright?" Watching them, something inside me crumbled. My fever seemed to return full force, leaving me weak and dizzy. I leaned against the cold hospital wall, not bothering to respond. The stark white corridor suddenly felt endless and empty, much like my future without him. Castro didn't wait for my response - he was already carrying Oriana toward the clinic, her arms wrapped around his neck. How telling. No matter how well he played his part, his true feelings always surfaced around Oriana, betraying everything he tried to hide. Yet he seemed completely oblivious to his own transparency. I let out a bitter laugh and headed to my own appointment. My suspicions were confirmed - my temperature was 106°F. The doctor explained that my untreated scalds, combined with emotional stress, had led to an infection. I needed immediate IV antibiotics. My finger hovered over Castro's number out of habit before I caught myself. Habits really are terrifying things, aren't they? With a self-deprecating smile, I handled everything alone - getting the prescription and finding the IV treatment room. After the treatment, I felt even worse, nearly collapsing as I tried to walk. However, Castro hadn't returned - not even a text or call. Reluctantly, I called him. "You're still at the hospital?" He sounded surprised. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was going to drop Oriana home quickly and come back, but her stomach condition flared up and..." But his explanation was cut short by a waitress's voice in the background: "Sir, your meals are served. Buon apetite!" Despite his rushed attempt to muffle the phone, I heard every word. "It's fine. I can handle on my own!" I said, as much to convince myself as him. Before I could hang up, he called out, "Aveline, go home first. I'll explain everything later." What was there to explain? Just another lie to add to his collection. I ended the call and ordered an Uber home. Castro didn't return that night. Unable to sleep through the New Year's fireworks outside, I worked on some jewelry designs for my clients on my iPad. Accidentally touching the messaging app icon, I saw Oriana's social media post from an hour ago - a stunning photo of fireworks lighting up the night sky, captioned: "After years of wandering, I've come home to you. The fireworks welcome me back, just as brilliant as your love. Worth every moment of waiting." I stared at the screen for a long moment before realizing I was logged into Castro's account on my iPad. I had no interest in reading their intimate messages. I logged out immediately, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my heart. The next morning, feeling somewhat better, I arrived at the design firm right on time. Sarah, my creative director, held my resignation letter with mixed emotions when I told her about returning home for marriage. "First my best jewelry designer leaves for marriage," she sighed, shaking her head. "The studio won't be the same without you." Words failed me, so I hugged her instead, grateful for her mentorship over the years. News of my departure spread quickly through the office. My colleagues insisted on throwing me a farewell dinner. I suggested the Italian restaurant Castro and I frequented - partly because I didn't know many others, but mostly because their seafood risotto was exceptional. During dinner, I excused myself to the wash my hand, only to find Oriana touching up her makeup at the marble vanity. "What a coincidence!" She smiled warmly at my reflection. "You know, Castro first brought me here during our college days. We've had so many special moments in this place since then." I returned a polite smile and turned to leave, seeing no reason for small talk between us. But Oriana wasn't finished. She called after me, "I noticed something the other night - Castro always rinses the spicy sauce off your shrimp. Are you sensitive to spice too?" That single word - "too" - made me freeze. The truth was, I loved spicy food. But Castro always insisted on rinsing my shrimp, claiming spicy food wasn't ladylike. I'd believed he was being protective. Now I realized he was simply acting on habit. It’s Oriana, who couldn't handle spice. Seeing my silence, she tilted her head, studying my face with unsettling intensity. "You know, I've been meaning to say this since I first saw you... Don't you think we look remarkably similar?" I'd never felt more humiliated. Under her triumphant gaze, I fled the bathroom, the pieces finally falling into place - I hadn't been his love, I'd been her replacement. Back in the private dining room, my colleagues' warmth slowly thawed my frozen state. Just as I was beginning to push aside the unpleasant encounter, the door swung open. Castro stood in the doorway, his Armani suit slightly disheveled, his eyes scanning the crowded room before landing on me with laser focus. In that moment of eye contact, I saw barely contained rage in his expression, though I couldn't fathom why. "Aveline." His voice cut through the chatter like ice. "A word?" Following him into the marble-lined hallway, I was utterly unprepared for what happened next. His hand connected with my cheek in a sharp crack that echoed off the pristine walls. In seven years, he had never raised a hand to me. "How dare you push Oriana?" Meeting my shocked gaze, he showed no remorse - only fury. "You knew her ankle was injured. I told you I'd explain everything later - is this your way of getting revenge?" My cheek stung where he'd struck me. Oriana limped toward us from down the hallway. Her designer blouse was rumpled and stained with water. Before I could defend myself, she collapsed dramatically to the floor. Castro shoved past me, rushing to gather her in his arms. "Why did you follow us? I told you I'd bring her to apologize," he said to Oriana, his harsh words belied by his tender tone. Oriana shook her head, tears glistening. "It's nothing serious. She probably didn't mean it. Don't be so hard on her." "If William finds out you struck his sister..." she added softly. At the mention of my brother, something flickered in Castro's eyes. But looking at Oriana, his resolve hardened. "William trusted me with her care," he said firmly. "If she needs correction, that's my responsibility." I let out a bitter laugh. "What exactly did I do? Even criminals get due process. You're denouncing and striking me without any evidence - doesn't that seem unjust to you?" Castro's fists clenched as he glared at me. "You knew there were no cameras in the restroom. That's why you chose to attack her there." The absurdity of it all made me want to laugh and cry simultaneously. "If there were no cameras, how can you be so sure it was me?" "Because Oriana wouldn't lie!" He took a step toward me, his cologne - the one she'd given him years ago, I now realized - overwhelming. "What possible reason would she have? I've known her for years. She's not capable of that kind of deception." I met his gaze, unflinching. "So I must be the liar then?" Seven years together. I'd thought that would mean something - that Castro would at least trust my character. But in Oriana's presence, those seven years might as well have been seven minutes. “Her word alone was enough to convict me. One accusation, and I was guilty beyond redemption.” The favoritism was unmistakable, his blind devotion to her undeniable. And me? I was just the understudy who'd forgotten her place. There was no point in arguing further. Ignoring Castro's angry calls, I walked away, my cheek still stinging from his slap. Not wanting to cast a shadow over my colleagues' celebration, I quietly settled the bill and texted them: "Something came up. Please enjoy the rest of the evening - dinner's on me." Back home, I found myself really seeing our apartment for the first time in seven years. Every corner held memories: the window seat where we'd shared Sunday morning coffee, the kitchen island where he'd taught me to make his grandmother's tiramisu. What once felt magical now felt poisonous, each memory a thorn in my heart. I found a moving box and spent the night methodically erasing our relationship: the matching "Beauty and Beast" slippers, the "his and hers" coffee mugs that fit together, and a whole collection of professional couple photographs - holiday cards, vacation shots, carefully staged moments of perfect happiness. These had been my security blanket, my proof that what we had was real. Now they were just artifacts of an elaborate performance. Castro didn't come home for two weeks. Between finishing my last jewelry designs,, I systematically emptied the apartment. I sold or donated every piece of furniture I'd chosen, every decorative touch I'd added. The space returned to its original state: stark minimalist, black and white, emptiness echoing off the walls. The night before my departure, I tried calling him one last time. Each attempt met with immediate rejection. Finally, a text appeared: "Unless you're ready to admit your guilt and properly apologize to Oriana, we have nothing to discuss." I laughed bitterly at my phone's screen. So be it. Some conversations were better left unsaid. My early morning flight beckoned. As I wheeled my suitcase out, this space that had once felt so precious now felt like a prison I was finally escaping. Just before boarding, my phone lit up with birthday wishes. Friends and colleagues sending hopes for my future, wishes for happiness, prayers for true love. I responded to each one before switching off my phone. As the plane lifted off, I made a silent promise to myself: I would be happy. With so many people wishing me well, how could I not be? 【5909】	LEARN_MORE	https://image.noveltells.net/landing-page/h5-1290.	FavoRead	https://www.facebook.com/100083109648305/	1,138	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	image.noveltells.net	VIDEO		https://image.noveltells.net/landing-page/h5-1290.html?id=1290&yy_appname=Favoread&badid={{ad.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481668869_1143059987492481_2611045442959690775_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=f6ec6OIheaIQ7kNvgHtbJYL&_nc_oc=AdiRAXrzbbhEwf_vtbzrdPxe3IQpCvjGdYPAfntAn3ggGnMF751rFQXmit-E6cUTh20OPJA34GK9Qf32ui8qO1w5&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AxN8BIPl7PJcj6alJ1dPeZW&oh=00_AYCY_ApWOvA675r4Uuh1D7HDOgIL60ZzWB859sEwemfNdg&oe=67C743F5	PERSON_PROFILE	FavoRead	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,230	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706833}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	Two girls. One crown. Who's the real heiress?	Hailey Kaplan, a wealthy teenager who decides to conceal her true identity when she transfers to Western High, a public school. Tired of being known only for her family's wealth, Hailey hopes to make genuine friends and experience a normal teenage life. However, her plans are thrown into chaos when Candice Mathis, the daughter of the Kaplan family's maid, arrives at school posing as the Kaplan heiress. Candice quickly rises to the top of the social hierarchy, while Hailey finds herself at the bottom, subjected to bullying and ridicule.	WATCH_MORE	https://w2a.reelshort.com/w2a/booksAdvPageV2/?book	Reelshort-Video stories	https://www.facebook.com/100090841033078/	608,956	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch more	w2a.reelshort.com	VIDEO		https://w2a.reelshort.com/w2a/booksAdvPageV2/?book_id=6746aa92c946defef504c9ff&chapterId=5epijo1kve&chapterIndex=1&mediaType=fb&px=25247865436%253A1813&push_type=2&book_type=1&campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480806318_645255681415402_8851071096203649268_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=isvs5a_A9SEQ7kNvgGFP48X&_nc_oc=AdgWbErNORR_U3X5QjWx7YUiOta6fCRg1EogpDQOan1mFkE584xgNcYZyrxmgARjGMeIIdVLfBKTZJmaDlHjdpn9&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AHyLkTmaLkM6KZfoayHSxwG&oh=00_AYBnsF71i68KqQkBsXxKH70_gVINec7AAYFOD7I3soirCQ&oe=67C71B63	PERSON_PROFILE	Reelshort-Video stories	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,260	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2707258}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	🔞😍Click here to Read on More Spicy Chapters👉	Willa had learned to survive as a rogue, building a life with her father outside the pack. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home. The only thing missing was justice. She was determined to uncover the truth behind her mother’s murder—and prove that the lycan king was responsible. But she never expected the very man she sought vengeance against to be her fated mate. Ferrin never imagined his fated mate would be a werewolf from his kingdom’s greatest rival—let alone the prophesied female alpha destined to bring his downfall. They had been searching for the alpha that was destined to cause his death for a decade. But could finding out that the alpha was his fated mate mean they were interpreting the prophecy all wrong? Or would he be forced to send her to her death to save his kingdom? -------------------------------------------------- Willa I stood at the kitchen sink and finished washing the dishes from dinner. My father started to snore softly in his chair in the next room, and a smile tugged at my lips. This was a typical night for us. We'd make dinner, talk about our day, then one of us would clean up. When it was my turn, Dad would read in his chair but was always asleep by the time I was done. Just the two of us. I put the last of the dishes away and hung the towel on the oven handle. I went to the living room and rested a hand on Dad’s shoulder, gently nudging him. He jerked awake as I knelt by his chair, resting an elbow on the arm and my chin in my hand, looking up at him with a grin. "Did you get any further in that book?" I chuckled. "Ha." He lifted the book from his lap, placing the bookmark in its spot and closing it. "I suppose I didn’t." "You’ve been on this one for two weeks," I said, plucking it out of his hand while I stood. I returned it to the small shelf in the corner. "I’ll get it done eventually," Dad laughed softly behind me. "Yes, but not tonight. Go get some sleep." He stood slowly from his chair. He rested his hands on my arms, giving me a soft smile before kissing my forehead. "You heading to bed, too?" he asked. "Mhmm," I lied with a nod. His eyes narrowed at me. "Willa?" "I’m not really tired yet. But I will be in my room. I’ve got some sketches I want to finish." "Okay," he said, dropping his hands. "Just no more patrolling." "I know, Dad," I said with an eye roll. He nodded and turned toward the hall. I made sure the front door was locked before heading to my room. It was a small house. Just a little two bedroom with one bathroom. The bathroom only had a shower, toilet, and a sink. There wasn’t much to it, but it was home. I shut my bedroom door behind me and listened for the familiar sound of Dad snoring in his bed in the next room. I smiled and shook my head. I grabbed the black hooded sweatshirt hanging on the footboard of the twin bed I still slept in and threw it on over my t-shirt. I slid my window open and climbed out, making sure to shut it behind me. I hated sneaking out like this. Like I was a stupid teenager. But after my dad found out I had been venturing into lycan territories, he forbade me from patrolling anymore. Or at least he tried to. It’s hard to do when I’m an adult and the only one that keeps our little home safe and hidden. Living outside a pack meant we needed to stay out of sight and out of pack territory. Typically, if you follow those rules, they leave you alone. But sometimes, the younger warriors would get a hair up their ass to go rogue hunting just for the fun of it. I slipped into the woods, allowing my wolf’s night vision to take over as I made my way down the familiar game trail that led east. We were only a few miles from the border of Whearhal, the lycan kingdom. Another downside of living the life of a rogue wolf. Rogues often spent their time moving from one location to another, mostly sleeping rough or squatting in abandoned buildings. We were lucky to have our little house and managed to find a way to keep the lights on and the water running. I walked about two miles from home before I stepped off the trail. I kept an eye on the trees watching for the nearly imperceptible markers that I had been leaving to let me know I had already gone from that point. Finally, a quarter mile after the last marker, I stopped and slipped behind a tree. I pulled out my knife and the red powder I kept with me. I carved into the trunk and sprinkled the powder over it, mixing in some of my spit. It wasn’t glamorous, but it sure was handy. Once that was done, I stripped down and shifted into my wolf. I loved the feeling of going for a run. It was the ultimate form of freedom. But I couldn’t let go for long. The marker was only a mile from the lycan lands at this part of the border. Once I reached the border, I hunkered down in a hiding spot and waited for the patrol. After waiting for over an hour, I still hadn’t seen a single sentry pass by. It was odd. Since I started these trips over a year ago, I had never not seen a guard. Don’t get me wrong. They were hard to spot most of the time. They were well-trained and diligent. But they still always made their presence known if you knew what to look for. And however diligent they were, I was always just a little bit smarter. But for there to be no guards at all? I remained focused on my surroundings. I needed to make sure to stay out of sight, but I was also here for a reason. I was trying to find the best way in and out of Whearhal. If I could find the border patrol’s weak points, I could get in and out regularly, allowing me to scope out the lycan city that lay only fifteen miles from the border. With still no sign of any guards, I took the opportunity and crossed the border. The city backed up into the southern mountains. But for being as close to the werewolf territories as it was, I seemed to never see any sign of them in these woods. Save for the border patrols, of course. But gratefully, I seemed to be the only one in the woods that night. In hindsight, I should have found that suspicious. I was cresting a ridge when Dharlow came into view. Built up against the mountainside sat a massive castle. It was where the lycan king and his council lived. A large town sat a short distance away from the base of the massive structure. The modernity of the town seemed strange against the classic fairy-tale castle backdrop. That was my goal. To one day find my way into the town. The western lands were now run by several werewolf packs that had rebelled over a hundred years ago, taking their own territory to escape lycan rule. However, the lycans still had a population of werewolves that served under them. That would be my way in. I had been searching for a safe way in and out of the territory. A way that would allow me to sneak in and start being seen in the town a little. Become familiar. Work my way into a job that would get me into the castle. Looking at the sight before me, my goal only a few short miles away, and knowing I had found an unguarded stretch of land, my heart was racing out of my chest. I sat for a while, taking in everything I could from my perch on the hill and committing it to memory. As it got later, I stood and started making my way back home. I was almost giddy with what I had discovered. But I knew that I needed to stake out that part of the border for a while longer before I could fully determine if it was the safe route I was looking for. I was halfway back when I paused. Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air. As if I wasn’t alone. I tucked into a shadow and sniffed the air, trying to make out a scent. I caught nothing for a few moments, and just when I was about to move again, I caught a peculiar scent. It was faint and brief, but there was something about it I couldn’t put my finger on. I stayed put for a while longer, but the scent didn’t appear again. I was still a bit on edge, but I knew I needed to get moving. So, I emerged from my shadow and trekked my way through the forest. I kept a steady pace, but I didn’t want to run full-on, afraid it would draw attention to me. It was a long trip. I would feel as if I was alone for a distance, and then the feeling of being watched would settle in my bones again for a while. It was off and on the whole way to the border. Once I passed out of Whearhal, I took off at a run. I swerved around some and backtracked a few places. I didn’t want to lead anyone back to my spot if there was someone still trailing me. By the time I made it back to my clothes, I was worn out, but I felt confident I was alone. That was a mistake. I shifted back into my human form and slipped on my clothes. As soon as I tugged my t-shirt down, I caught that scent again. But this time, it was much stronger. My heart started pounding as I felt a presence behind me. I shot around quickly to see a male standing in the moonlight only feet away from me. His voice crossed the short distance between us. "Mate." Chapter 2 Ferrin I had followed her for miles. I knew she was a werewolf the moment I caught a whiff of her. I trailed it until I saw a glimpse of her wolf in my forest. I stalked her here. I told myself that it was because I needed to know who this wolf was on my land, but there was something about her scent that had me following her in a way I didn’t think I was controlling. She tried to lose us near the end, but lycans are far better trackers than that. When she finally stopped and shifted into her human form, I had to approach her. Shifting out of my lycan form myself, I moved toward her. When I was a few steps away, her scent engulfed my senses, sending an irrepressible need through me. As soon as she turned around, I knew why. "Mate." The word sprang from my lips. It was overwhelming. In the light of the moon, I saw her eyes widen in shock. Then fear flashed across them before they narrowed in determination. She took a defensive stance, and I pulled myself out of whatever trance I was in. That’s when I realized. She was an alpha. Her aura was blazing around her. This was her. The one we have been searching for all these years. Her claws extended, and she let out a low growl. I couldn’t help the snarl that escaped in response. A war of emotions flooded through me as I took her in. She made no move to attack, her only intention being to defend herself if need be. But that didn’t mean much at this moment. If she knew who I was, would that still be the case? But that still didn’t mean I could actually attack her. Not now. I was still rushing through my thoughts when there was a flash of movement from my right. A blur of fur crashed into her, sending her flying through the air and landing hard on the forest floor. Damen, my beta, was standing over her in a second, his claws raised. "Stop," I called as panic rushed through me. He stood back, shifting into his human form as I approached. I knelt down beside her. She was knocked unconscious but otherwise seemed unhurt. "Ferrin," Damen said behind me. "She’s an alpha. A female alpha." "I am aware," I snapped. "It can’t be a coincidence that we found her on our lands," Damen insisted. I stood and pushed my fingers through my hair. "I know." "What are we going to do? We can’t just leave her." Of course I couldn’t leave her. She was my mate. But she was also my enemy. She had to be. She was the only female alpha we had discovered over the past ten years of searching. I knelt back down beside her, brushing the hair out of her face as she lay still on the leaves. She was beautiful. I pushed the burning in my chest away and replaced it with anger. Anger that she would be the one the goddess fated me to. Anger that she had the nerve to enter my territory. Anger that she wanted my destruction. Then I saw the dark pool forming beneath her and smelled the blood in the air. I tilted her head, feeling my way along the back of her skull. My fingers came away wet and sticky. I couldn’t fight the panic that coursed through me. I cursed under my breath, pressing against the wound to stop the bleeding. "Ferrin," Damen’s voice broke through my thoughts. "Ferrin, what’s wrong with you?" I steadied my breathing before responding. "She’s my mate." "What?" he responded loudly. I stooped down and slid my arms under her, scooping her up into my chest. Electricity shot through me, and tingles broke out wherever her body touched mine. She stirred in my arms. I looked down as her eyes opened. The moonlight catching them reflected a bright hazel with so many colors shining through. They held confusion as they gazed into mine. Then they fluttered closed, and she was limp in my arms once again. "We need to move," I told Damen over my shoulder. "Come on." I shifted into my lycan form as we rushed through the trees. So many thoughts ran through my mind. I had to make a decision. And I needed to make it before we reached the castle walls. If I brought her in, it would only be a matter of time before everyone would discover she was an alpha werewolf. Her aura was suppressed while she was unconscious, but as soon as she woke, in a strange place, sensing potential danger, it would flare for everyone to see. And it was strong. I could feel that even for the brief moment I had sensed it. But that only made me feel more confident that she was the one. The council would demand her death. I don’t even know if they would allow any questioning. I almost stumbled at the thought. We were almost to the outer walls of the castle when I stopped, shifting back. Damen slid to a halt next to me. I mind-linked my head of security, Austin, telling him to meet us at the game entrance at the back and to clear all the halls on his way. No one, not even a servant, was to be present. Damen looked at me expectantly. "What are you going to do?" he asked, glancing down at the prone form I still carried. My eyes followed his. "I’ll put her in the tower." I looked up to meet his worried expression. "No one can know about this. I need to get answers before anyone can find out she is here." He gave a sharp nod in agreement. We continued on, shifting into our human form as we approached the small door at the back of the stone walls. We only waited a moment before it swung open. Austin stood in the doorway, a concerned look crossing his face as he looked between the two of us before his gaze fell on the woman in my arms. His eyes widened. "Is that…?" I pushed past him into the safety of the castle, making sure he bolted the door behind us. Austin turned to us and handed us some sweatpants to put on. Damen grabbed them and slipped them up over his hips before turning to me and reaching for my mate. A growl escaped my lips and I stepped back. "Ferrin," Damen said warningly. I shook my head, pushing away the sudden possessiveness that took hold. "I know." I hesitated for another moment before depositing her into his arms. I grabbed the pants from Austin’s grip and pulled them on quickly. I didn’t want his hands on her any longer than they had to be. I retrieved my mate from Damen as Austin began to speak. "Is anyone going to tell me what is going on?" he asked. "You cleared the passages?" I asked. "All through the lower three levels on this side," he said. I nodded and began making my way toward the tower stairs, Damen and Austin keeping step behind me. "So, neither of you is going to tell me what the he1l all this is about?" Austin whispered. "Yes, she’s the alpha," Damen responded quietly. "Heck," Austin said. I heard his feet skip a step for a moment. "Are you sure?" "She’s an alpha, at least," Damen replied, his voice strained. "What’s with all the secrecy? I understand not wanting to draw too much attention, but this seems a bit much." I stopped as we reached the base of the stairs. Listening to make sure there wasn’t anyone using them. I nodded to Damen to go ahead of me. I knew Austin had questions, but I just wanted to get her out of sight. I’d deal with our next move then. Damen went ahead of us a short distance to make sure no one was in or entered the passageway. I carried her all the way to the top floor. There was a single suite there. It was regularly empty as it was reserved to accommodate extra guests when other rooms were full. I placed her down on the bed and quickly checked her head wound. I was relieved to see that it was healing already. I wouldn’t need to call a physician. That was one less person to worry about. I was about to caress her face but resisted the urge. A new wave of anger and hurt washed through me at the situation I had found myself in. If she was who I thought she was, she was far more dangerous than she appeared. I couldn’t afford to let myself be fooled by whatever the bond was doing to me. I returned to Damen and Austin, who were waiting by the door. I took the handcuffs that hung from Austin’s belt and returned to the unconscious werewolf. I picked up one of her wrists and secured it to the headboard with the cuffs. I had to get answers. I returned to my companions and ushered them out the door, shutting it securely behind us. "Austin, I need a list of your most trustworthy guards. I need two on duty outside this room at all times. But keep it limited to as few as possible." "Ferrin," Austin replied, "what the he1l?" I ran my hands across my face and through my hair, turning my face to the rafters above my head. I wanted to tell him. I was going to tell him. He was one of my best friends, and I couldn’t keep this from him. But I was still trying to work through everything myself. "She’s his mate," Damen voiced quietly. Austin cursed. "Seriously? What are you going to do?" "Get answers," I said, leaning against the door. "In the meantime, we have to keep this secret. If the council finds out, or anyone, for that matter, I don’t know what the outcome would be. With either piece of information. Half the council is just as likely to demand her execution as the other half is to use her against me." "I wouldn’t be too surprised if it was more than half with the latter," Damen grumbled next to me. "But we can’t have either happen." I gave him a grateful look, but I was still a little surprised. I knew they would back me up regardless of what they thought of the situation. But seeing as Damen was about to rip her throat out in the woods earlier tonight, I wasn’t expecting him to agree with me. As if he knew what I was thinking, he shrugged and said, "Regardless of what she may have planned to do, she still hasn’t technically done anything wrong. Taking a run in our lands sure isn’t something to kill her over." "You want us to stand guard for now until you can send someone up?" Austin asked. I shook my head. "I’m going to stay with her until she wakes up. The sooner she talks, the better." They both nodded and headed down the stairs. Once they were out of sight, I entered the room that held my unconscious mate and enemy. Chapter 3 Willa There was a pounding in my head as light filtered through my eyelids. I winced but forced my eyes to open as I tried to remember what had happened. As my vision cleared and adjusted to the light, I realized I was in a strange bedroom. My heart started to pound as I pieced together the events of the night. I started to pull myself up into a sitting position when my eyes met another’s. It was the lycan from the forest. I jerked myself backward, hissing as my wrist was yanked hard by the sudden movement. I was chained to the bed. I moved my attention back to the stranger sitting in the chair nearby, putting my feet in a position I could start kicking if he came near me. I worked to steady my breathing. It was hard, with the ache in my head getting worse. But I wasn’t going to let him know I was scared. I set my jaw and waited for him to say something. "How is your head?" he asked, no emotion in his voice. I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked him up and down, taking a deep breath to take in his scent. Damn, he smelled good. Like balsam wood and eucalyptus. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt that stretched across the muscles of his chest and arms. He was gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair. I was reminded of what he had said in the woods before I lost consciousness. Mate. That couldn’t be. There’s no way I was fated to a lycan. For one, werewolves and lycans didn’t mate. Not even by choice, let alone fate. And second, I hated lycans. "What is your name?" he spoke again, still not giving away any emotion in his words. I remained quiet, lifting my chin in defiance. He sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay, perhaps this will be an easier question. What were you doing in lycan territory?" "I got lost," I lied, the corner of my lip twitching. I didn’t really try to make it sound convincing. Anger flashed in his blue eyes for a moment before he replaced the mask. He sat back in the chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. He regarded me from his perch for a long while. I needed to change positions. My fingers were starting to go numb from straining against the cuffs, and the muscles in my back were aching from holding myself upright. At least the throbbing in my head had started to subside. He must have noticed me fidgeting because he started to speak. "The cuffs won’t come off until I get my answers." I let out a low chuckle. "Look, if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with. There’s nothing you need to know." His cold expression finally broke as confusion covered his face along with something else. Was that pain I saw in his eyes? I looked away as his gaze became too intense. I shifted on the bed, pushing myself up against the headboard, pulling my knees up to my chest. "I have no intention of killing you," he said. "But I also can’t just let you go." "What do you want with me?" He stood and moved the chair closer to the bed, sitting back down and meeting my eyes again. "You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours." I scoffed. Like I would believe anything he said. But something in his eyes, his proximity to me, his scent filling my nostrils, sobered me. What other option did I have? I looked up and nodded once. He tipped his head, indicating I could go first. "Why did you bring me here?" I asked. "Because you are my mate," he stated. "Because you were bleeding and unconscious. And because I need to know why you were here." He allowed his answer to settle in for a moment. "How is your head?" he finally asked. My eyes shot up to his before I could cover my surprise. "It’s fine," I replied stiffly. "So if I’m your mate, why am I chained up?" I noticed the muscles of his jaw flex for a moment. "Because you are an alpha." My brow furrowed. "What the hel1 does that ha…" He cut me off with a look. It wasn’t my turn. But his answer had me on edge, even more than before. How could he even tell I was an alpha? Or, rather, that I used to be. I had lived outside a pack for too long. There shouldn’t be much of that aura left in me. "What is your name?" "Willa," I replied. The corner of his lips rose slightly for a moment. I didn’t like how the sight made my stomach flip. "Why does it matter that I’m an alpha?" The shadow of a smile faded, and what I thought was a pained look returned to his face. "That is something I regretfully can’t tell you. Although, it would possibly make all this easier if I could." "That’s not an answer," I blurted out. "Just because it isn’t the one you want or one you like, doesn’t mean it isn’t an answer." I snorted, biting my lip to stop the nasty response. He wanted to play it that way, did he? "Why were you in lycan territory?" I looked him dead in the eye. "I got lost." "Willa," his voice was full of warning. "Just because it’s not the answer you want doesn’t mean it’s not an answer." I threw his words back at him. I could see his anger rise again. "At least my answer was an honest one." "Says you." He opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly, closing his eyes and taking a few steady breaths. "Willa, why were you in lycan territory?" I sat up straight again. I was done with this game. It didn’t matter why he brought me here or why he hadn’t killed me yet. He would eventually. That’s what they do to my kind. Mate or not. And I was done talking. He rubbed a hand down his face and looked out the window. He tapped the arm of the chair absently before he stood. He took two steps forward, closing the distance between the chair and the edge of the bed. I pressed harder against the headboard, the bars stinging into my back. His hand moved toward me. It paused for a second when I failed to hide a flinch as if he had thought better of the action for a moment. But then it continued until he was cupping my cheek gently. Our eyes caught as tingles erupted from his touch. I was breathing heavily, and I tried to break eye contact, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I felt my own hand start to move up to cover his but pulled myself back to reality, dropping it beside me and tearing my eyes from his. I turned my head away and balled my hands into fists. I heard him breathe deeply as he pulled away. "I have to go. I’ll be back tonight when it’s dark. Someone will bring you something to eat soon." He walked towards the door. "You said the cuffs would come off if I answered your questions," I called after him. He stopped. "I said they’d come off when I got my answers. I haven’t gotten them all yet." He opened the door and was gone, the sound of the lock clicking echoing through the room. I screamed in frustration, yanking at the metal that bound my wrist and hitting the pillows with my free hand. "B@stard," I yelled into the air. I heaved a few angry breaths before the tears began to form, and a sob escaped my lips. I stifled it, pushing back the lump in my throat and blinking back the tears. Now was not the time to break down. I looked around the bed for something I could use to get the cuffs off. If I could get free, I could figure out where I was and how to get out. I scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up, opening the drawers of the nightstand that was next to it. I cursed under my breath to find them all empty, not even a pen or pad of paper. I examined the objects on top – a decorative resin piece with a butterfly preserved inside. It had a hefty weight to it, but I doubted it would do much in breaking the metal restraints. There was a clock and a lamp. I picked up the lamp to see if anything jumped out at me as something I could break off, but there was nothing. I awkwardly squatted to the floor and tried running my hand along the floor, hoping someone hadn’t cleaned under there in a while. Still no luck. I huffed, throwing my head back and closing my eyes for a few moments. When I opened them again, I noticed the walls were heavily decorated. If there wasn’t a painting or a sconce or some other decorative knick-knack, there was a tapestry, like the one that hung above the headboard. I climbed back on the bed and ran my hand along the edge to the corner. I gave it a tug, but it was well secured to the wall. I pulled at the corner, trying to see how it was secured, and sure enough, there was a nail. I smiled and started to tug on the fabric, careful to work the nail out and not just rip the tapestry off it. I was working it out of the plaster, which was a bit awkward at the angle I was at when I heard keys in the door. I threw myself back down on the bed just as the heavy wooden door creaked open. I looked up to see another male lycan walk in with a tray in his hand. He eyed me as he walked to the bed, setting the tray that held breakfast food on the blankets where I could reach it. I didn’t recognize his face, but something about his smell was familiar. "I’m Damen," I said to me. "If you need anything, just yell. I’ll be just outside the door." I gave him a confused look but didn’t answer him. He gave me a small nod before turning to leave. That’s when it hit me. "You’re the assho1e who knocked me out," I blurted out. He stopped in his tracks. An amused and then worried look appeared on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was just protecting my…" he stopped and considered his next word, "friend." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Because he is often attacked by strange females he stalks through the woods?" He chuckled quietly. "No, you would definitely be the first." He shook his head and moved to leave. I sighed. "Thank you," I called behind him. "For the food." I may not like the arrogant jerks, but I still had manners. Chapter 4 Willa I had eaten the food Damen had brought to me despite trying to convince myself not to. But ultimately, my stomach won out. I had run my hand through my hair and felt the matted, dried blood that stuck to it. I must have really banged it hard, or rather Damen had banged it hard when he tackled me. Either way, it was no wonder I was starving. I had spent hours healing, which is why it also didn’t surprise me when I felt exhausted by the time I was done eating. Thoughts about being drugged or poisoned bounced around the back of my mind, but for some reason, I just didn’t feel like that was going to happen. Still, I pushed myself to stay awake, dragging myself back up on the bed to start working on the tapestry. It didn’t take me too long to get the nail pulled out of the wall, but my victory was short-lived when I realized I didn’t really know what I was going to do with it. I had never picked handcuffs before. But how hard could it be? I sat back a started working on the lock, but I was soon struggling to keep my eyes open. I didn’t even know when I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark in the room, the only light coming from somewhere behind me. I sat up, wondering where the blanket that covered me came from, as I looked around the room. I saw him sitting in the same chair as before, but he had moved it back again, keeping distance between us, which I was grateful for. His head rested on his hand, and he seemed to have dozed off. I scooted up on the bed, positioning myself back against the headboard again, and waited. I took the time to take a better look at him. It was hard not to admire his good looks. He was tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and slender hips. His brown hair was so dark it was nearly black and just long enough to allow the natural wave to take over. I sighed and looked away, trying to ignore the pull that I was feeling toward him. Trying to think of anything else, I realized I needed to relieve myself. I chewed on my lip as I eyed the door that I could see leading to the bathroom, contemplating the humiliation of having to ask to use the toilet. I was lost in my concern when I heard the click of metal on metal and felt the resistance on my wrist release. I looked over and met his eyes. He tipped his head toward the bathroom and turned back to the chair. I slid off the bed quickly and escaped to the bathroom. I relieved myself and took my time washing my hands. I looked at the bath longingly, wondering if I could get away with showering. I decided against it. Mostly because I didn’t want to be exposed in a room where I didn’t trust the lock.Instead, I found a washcloth from under the sink and used it to wash my face and another to try to get some of the dried blood out of my hair. I used my fingers to pull some of the tangles out before I exited. He looked up and nodded his head back toward the bed. "Sit." I moved to sit, choosing a spot at the foot end of the bed. As I waited for him to say anything, I resigned myself to playing his version of twenty questions. I didn’t want to know anything about him. Honestly, I didn’t trust how this stupid mate bond would make me react. But I had to learn something. I still didn’t even have any idea where I was. The cold, distant expression had returned to his face as he regarded me from his chair. He still hadn’t said anything, so I decided he was waiting on me. "So, who is Damen to you?" I asked, breaking the silence. "He is my beta," he replied. Beta? I knew lycans used the same hierarchies werewolves did, but theirs weren’t predetermined like ours were. A werewolf’s hierarchy was determined by their aura. The stronger and more commanding the aura, the higher the rank. The only thing that would change that was to become a rogue. If you had no pack, you had no rank. Lycans didn’t work that way. They could fill whatever rank they earned or were entrusted with. And they didn’t go rogue. It was a bit frustrating not knowing where my captors fell or what they were capable of. "What pack are you from?" he asked. "I don’t have one," I said honestly. "I was raised as a rogue." His brow furrowed. It must have sounded like a lie to him. "You don’t smell like a rogue," he commented. "You don’t have the aura of a rogue," he followed with force. I shrugged. "Maybe you’re just special. You know, the mate bond and all that." "Perhaps," he said quietly. "Why were you in lycan territory?" "I was curious about the lycan village." It wasn’t a lie. "Why?" I gave him a warning look this time. He sighed and tipped his head. "Forgive me. After you." "What is your name?" He held my gaze intensely, like he didn’t want to miss any part of my reaction. "My name is Ferrin." I froze. My heart rate spiked, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I croaked out, "As in Ferrin Elswick?" He nodded once. I shot up from the bed, backing away from him, panic and rage and hatred rising like bile in my throat. Tears started to burn my eyes as another realization hit me — this bloody b@stard was my mate. I was fated to the lycan king. My worst enemy. "Willa," he said as he moved to stand. "Why does it matter that I’m an alpha?" I demanded. My claws started digging into the palms of my hands as I gripped them into tight fists. He saw the blood dripping from between my fingers and he tried to move toward me again. "Willa…" "Why?" I yelled, stepping farther away. "We’ve been searching for a female alpha werewolf." I opened my mouth to speak, but he rushed ahead. "But we never found one. They are extremely rare. As far as we could tell, the last one died thirteen years ago in a car accident." I couldn’t hold back the rage-filled laugh. "She didn’t die in the crash. She was murdered," I spat, "by a lycan." "Who told you that?" he asked as he raised his hands in a pathetic attempt to calm me. "No one. It’s what I told them," I replied. "When they found me next to my mother’s dead body." His face paled, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "What?" "We were run off the road when she was on her way to a meeting with YOU," I continued, fighting the shift that was threatening to take over. "She was pulled from the car by a fucking lycan who proceeded to rip her throat out as she tried to protect ME." "Willa, I…" I took two steps toward him. "You are the only one with the authority to sanction her death," I bellowed. I wanted to tear him apart. To take his life the way he so easily decided to take my mother’s. He was right there in front of me. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t survive. I may take him out, but guards would come rushing in, and I’d be dead within seconds. I couldn’t leave my dad like that. But also, there was a tightening in my chest, a sharp, gripping pain at the thought of killing my own mate. My whole body was vibrating with rage and despair. All this time and I couldn’t bring myself to avenge my mother. "All she wanted was peace." I fell to my knees. Ferrin moved toward me, and I scrambled backward. "Stay away from me." He recoiled. A look of horror and pain on his face. Finally, he turned and left without another word. I collapsed to the floor, a sob wracking through my body. The tears broke through, and I lay there, crying as pain shredded my heart. I couldn’t avenge my mother’s death. And I could never love my mate. -------------------------------------------------- There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book)	LEARN_MORE	https://website.literiess.com/share/middle_new/ze2	Novel Dreams	https://www.facebook.com/61571531469059/	10	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	website.literiess.com	IMAGE	I stood at the kitchen sink and finished washing the dishes from dinner. My father started to snore softly in his chair in the next room, and a smile tugged at my lips. This was a typical night for us. We'd make dinner, talk about our day, then one of us would clean up. When it was my turn, Dad woul...	https://website.literiess.com/share/middle_new/ze2ge5huhenzntqfgj4bxi0q?campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&campaign={{campaign.name}}&adgroup={{adset.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481056775_1715539072719658_834860180556262773_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=0HZuWIDmjDIQ7kNvgHXz7Th&_nc_oc=Adicxdea51BczEekv2-ETxetJ44OXqmtx-UlwfnOtgR7dutK-PRRjACcdYi2S4aU2aSdWrIblTy6xNNg-VN4zZXs&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AyjbXEE3J6IwnrgXBE-aFBT&oh=00_AYCNs6MNAQ_NLZeKtStcANQXbOplMqeJ2CMLyJWnBQTRIQ&oe=67C71F64	PERSON_PROFILE	Novel Dreams	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,707,317	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2706437}'	Yes	2025-02-28 00:30	active	2651	You fired me, don't come crying when you go under.	After Erik, the biggest tech hotshot in all of Silicon Valley, gets sacked by his CEO's son William, he joins forces with Evelyn, the beautiful CEO of his old company's competitor. This causes his former employer to go bankrupt, and when William realizes he's fired the wrong guy, it's already too late...	WATCH_MORE	https://w2a.reelshort.com/w2a/booksAdvPageV2/?book	ReelShort	https://www.facebook.com/reelshortapp/	1,213,638	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch more	w2a.reelshort.com	VIDEO		https://w2a.reelshort.com/w2a/booksAdvPageV2/?book_id=677db51b4b143c5a8007f0f1&chapterId=dubrwhl7xz&chapterIndex=1&mediaType=fb&px=25247865436%253A1813&push_type=2&book_type=1&campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481008017_461967340215091_8847734815062588953_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=HcFZG6WueJsQ7kNvgGuYj5C&_nc_oc=AdghCNOJYn2QFtYpXNIYz8GOS-FU5_WkqfkHRbdfxLsUox2yTLlsKWjyN_jM73m3cculjn8bQDC_lchWZn6UQaLe&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AxN8BIPl7PJcj6alJ1dPeZW&oh=00_AYAy1U9rgipHVUbtJjgbUbELvg-1Db6jJaeZ7qOtqdXVBQ&oe=67C73255	PERSON_PROFILE	ReelShort	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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