Renan Gedorio

"Love, let's go to the park." I went down the stairs, filled with hope, and approached Cloud, hoping for a softer response. "Please, Luna, can you stop this? And don't call me 'love'-I don't love you. Ours is just an arranged marriage, and maybe you've forgotten that you're the reason Stella and I broke up." "Is it my fault, Cloud? I'm a victim too. Do you think I wanted to be tied to a man I don't even love? I'm struggling just as much as you are, Cloud." My voice trembled, pleading for his understanding. "Why don't you just leave me? Oh, right, because you won't have anyone to leech off of if you leave me." He laughed, but his every sneer was filled with anger, especially when our eyes met. "You have no right to say that, Cloud! I've never asked you for money!" I shouted back, holding onto what little dignity I had left. "I'm getting the divorce papers finalized today, and you need to sign them as soon as possible. I can't stand seeing your face every day." But the truth was, every word he said felt like a knife cutting into my heart. "C-Cloud, maybe we can still talk about this." I reached for his hand, still hoping there was a chance, but he pulled it away. "What's there to talk about? Isn't it clear that I don't want you and that I don't love you?" His voice thundered through the mansion, his words like a storm shattering my world. "Right, you don't love me." I laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. I looked at him, trying to hide my tears. "You know, Cloud, I wanted to stay by your side until you learned to love me. But I can't, because you've already given up on us. Yes, you don't love me because I'm the reason you and Stella broke up." "Cloud, I studied how to love you. I admit, at first, I didn't want to be with you. But I couldn't help it. Slowly, I started falling for you, and I foolishly thought that maybe one day, you'd learn to love me too. But no, I was wrong. I just wanted to be loved by you, Cloud, but you denied me even that. My chest felt heavy, and trembling, I stepped back." "You know, I dreamed of you loving me the way you loved Stella. But I guess that's impossible." I laughed again, but this time, it was empty, filled only with sadness and pain. "There's no point in forcing myself on you anymore. Maybe I've suffocated you so much that you're begging for your freedom. I'm sorry for being the reason you and Stella broke up. Don't worry, I'll talk to her." I forced a smile, even as I felt myself breaking inside. "Since your birthday is coming up, my gift to you is my signature on the divorce papers. Just call me when they're ready. I'll start packing." Once inside my room, I collapsed to my knees, letting the tears I'd been holding back flow freely. "Why does it always have to be like this? I just wanted to feel his love..." After I finished packing, I went down the stairs. I found Cloud in the living room, standing with his back to me. "Ah, Cloud, I'm leaving now. Just call me when the divorce papers are ready. Thank you for everything, Cloud." I forced a smile and walked out of the mansion, carrying the feelings I wanted to bury but couldn't let go of. "You're free now, Cloud. You can be with Stella. Even though it hurts, I'll endure it. I took a deep breath. This time, I won't beg for your love."

In my world, if you're weak, you're done for. I refused to be one of the weak, so I committed myself to intense training to become stronger. I pushed my limits, sharpened my skills, and believed that I could overcome any challenge. But in the end, I died... trying to help someone weak. Or at least, that's what I thought. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar place. And soon, the truth hit me: I had been reincarnated.

"P-please d-don't," I said to him fearfully. "Uh huh, let me enjoy tonight, baby," he whispered in my ear. Tears streamed down my face as my body trembled from his presence. I never wanted to wear this to our prom. I didn't choose this. I should have refused back then so none of this would have happened. I knew he'd be angry seeing me in this outfit, but we ran out of time, so I couldn't argue anymore. "Please, Kairus, d-don't, s-stop, please," I begged him. "Shhh, don't test my patience, baby. You know what I can do, right?" he grinned. "N-no, p-please," I cried. "The more you beg, the more I want you," he smirked. He's Kairus Jei Styles, the son of the owner of my school, and he's the bad boy everyone fears. He has friends who are also feared at Styles University. He's the man who raped me and turned my four years in their school into a living hell. I'm Allysiah Quin De Villa, and I was 17 years old when Kairus took control of my life. He was 20 at the time, and I later discovered that he was a terrifying psycho bad boy.

"You are not my child. "You don't belong in this family! "trash!" "Gross!" "What a disappointment!" "Ugly and trash!" "You're disgusting!" "You don't belong in this school, b*tch!" I let out a deep sigh as I recalled the hurtful words they hurled at me. Whether at home or school, it was the same—nothing but pain was brought upon me. "Why is the world so unfair to me?" This was the question I always asked God. Why was I born into this world only to suffer? All I wanted was to be loved—to be happy—so why does it seem like everything is denied to me? I don't understand why it feels like the world is playing a cruel trick on me, intentionally keeping me from getting what I desire. I sighed again. "I hope in my next life, I will be happy." I forced a smile, hiding the deep pain that lingered within me. I could never have imagined that everyone would be so cruel to me, that I would experience such hardship. I placed my hands on the concrete while gazing at the vast surroundings and the students scattered around. I had been sitting here on the railing of our school building's rooftop for some time. This is where I come whenever I'm sad or when everyone bullies me. I sighed once more and looked up at the sky. "Lord, was I a bad person in my past life? Because the world is so cruel to me." Was I truly bad? Or is it just the people around me who are? No one treated me well. Everyone hates me. I have no friends or even anyone I can call 'family.' Do I deserve to live in this world? I placed my hands on the concrete again to support myself as I stood up. "I'm tired of everything. I want this to end." I looked down. My knees trembled as I realized how high up I was. If I fall from here, I will surely leave this world forever. "Maybe if I die, they will be happy," I whispered sadly as I closed my eyes, recalling the faces of all those who caused me so much pain. Tears streamed from my eyes. I felt trapped in a never-ending cycle of torment, reliving the painful experiences over and over again. I've had enough. I'm tired. Maybe it's time to rest... forever. "To end this pain is to finish everything," I whispered again, opening my eyes and slowly stepping onto the edge of the railing. "Goodby—" I was about to fall when suddenly someone forcefully grabbed my hand, causing me to land on top of someone's body. I recognized the familiar scent of his perfume. I quickly stood up as I realized who it was. It's him again... The guy who became my tormentor, making my life even more miserable. "You should have just let me go. Isn't that what you—and everyone—want? For me to disappear from this world," I said lifelessly. His face remained blank, showing no emotion as he looked at me. "Tsk!" I was startled when he suddenly closed the distance between us and spoke coldly into my ear, "If you want to die, wait for me to be the one... to end your life." Then, he immediately turned his back on me. I don't know why, but a surge of intense anger suddenly welled up in my heart because of what he said. The sadness I felt moments ago was instantly replaced with rage. My face suddenly became devoid of emotion. "Oh, is that so?" I said, colder than ice, which made him stop walking. "Alright," I continued, quickly removing my heeled shoe and throwing it at him with all my might, hitting him squarely on the head. I quickly walked toward him and confronted his shocked face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," I said, cold as ice, but dripping with sarcasm. After saying that, I picked up my shoe and swiftly turned my back on him.

In a dark and cold room, someone was sitting in a corner, trembling intensely from the chilly breeze, accompanied by soft sobs and the quiet fall of tears. The door opened, revealing the person who had locked them in that room, though they didn't know why. Their face lifted, and their eyes immediately met, causing them to shrink further into the corner, continuing to cry. "Please, don't hurt me," they pleaded, their voice trembling with each word. Their body trembled even more as the person they feared slowly approached. The person lifted their face with a gentle left hand. Their face was pitiful, with slightly flushed cheeks and nose. Their innocent, delicate face, more beautiful than a woman's, was flushed from the cold, as they had developed a fever. The man could no longer bear it and immediately lifted them up. They were slightly startled but lacked the strength to resist, their body too weak from the fever. "Supremo..." they softly whispered before losing consciousness. Supremo quickly brought them to his room, immediately changing and treating them, laying them on his soft bed. He gazed at the innocent face of the young one, and only one thought crossed his mind: "I will mark you as mine."

Cara Lewis sat quietly as her boyfriend of three years pushed a plate of dessert across the table, wearing a rehearsed mask of sorrow. He claimed he had to break up with her for her own good, blaming his lack of connections on Wall Street and insisting he couldn't give her the life she deserved. He acted like a martyr making a tragic sacrifice, waiting for her desperate tears and trembling denial. Instead, Cara calmly pulled out a stack of glossy photos and an elegant engagement invitation. She exposed his secret affair with the wealthy Hailie Lewis, completely dismantling his hypocritical social climb. Leaving the cheating narcissist pale and humiliated, Cara paid the bill and walked out, thinking the trash had finally been taken out. But her newly single evening took a chaotic turn when a teenage gaming partner called in a panic. He begged her to crash his elite prep school and pose as his aunt to save him from expulsion. Cara agreed, flawlessly playing the role of the secret new wife to his uncle, a notoriously ruthless Wall Street titan. She was thoroughly dominating the snobby school board when the office doors suddenly swung open. The real billionaire uncle, Beck Greer, walked into the room. Cara's heart dropped into her stomach as his glacial eyes locked onto her, knowing her social existence in New York was about to end. Caught in a terrifying, inescapable lie, Cara made an insane calculation. She stepped forward, firmly hooked her arm through the billionaire's, and smiled sweetly. "Honey, what took you so long? Julian and I were being bullied." She waited for the executioner's axe to fall, but the untouchable tycoon simply covered her hand with his and played along.

I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.

I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing. During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me. I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst. She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side. "Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house." I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip. My heart went completely dead. So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate. I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table. "I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."

All I wanted was to find a computer genius to process the non-linear dynamic equations for my ecological model. Instead, I found myself cornered by Julian Andrews, the university's hockey prince, trading a public, staged kiss for his academic support. To finalize our "deal," I was dragged to the campus ice rink. The cheerleaders and puck bunnies immediately swarmed him, mocking my plain clothes and treating me like a pathetic joke. Brooke, the head cheerleader, even set up a figure skating competition with a date with Julian as the grand prize. She performed a basic spin, blew him a kiss, and smugly waited for me to fall flat on my face and humiliate myself. His hockey teammates laughed from the sidelines, watching me try to support Julian as he stumbled around the ice like a newborn giraffe. But as I held his warm hand to keep him from falling, I couldn't help but feel something was terribly wrong. Why was a top-tier athlete faking such awful balance? And why did his ice-blue eyes stare at me with such knowing anticipation, as if he already knew about the professional figure skating past I had spent years trying to bury? "Just let go and skate." He whispered, slowly releasing my hand. I took a deep breath, glided to the center of the rink, and landed a flawless double Axel. As the entire rink fell into a dead, shocked silence, I realized I had just exposed not only my own hidden past, but also the biggest secret of the campus god.

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

"From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer." In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title. The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry. His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt. Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get." They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps. The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world. When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance. "She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel." I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face. "This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole." But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey...

Olivia grew up in a small Florida town, happy despite dreaming of something bigger-until a car accident took her entire family and left her alone. She was forced by her cold, strict grandmother into a life working at a convenience store, but her uncle stepped in. She left with him for New York City. Olivia began rebuilding her life alongside her loving uncles. Then one day, she met Alex-her uncle's boss. Strong, sexy, controlling, obsessive. A perfectionist who discarded anyone he deemed incompetent, a womanizer who never tied himself down. Until Olivia. She was younger than his usual type, but the moment he saw her, he was captivated. Olivia was drawn to him too-but she avoided him at every turn, refusing to give in so easily. Alex pursued her with every trick he had. What he never expected was that, in the battle to win her, his own heart would surrender first.

For ten years, Kinsley played the perfect, invisible wife to billionaire Christian Decker. She lived on a meager allowance, secretly pouring her heart into earning first place for a prestigious Hollywood directing fellowship. But on the day her gold-stamped acceptance letter arrived, she stood outside his study and heard him give her hard-earned spot to Blair, his live-in mistress. Christian casually dismissed Kinsley's months of grueling work, claiming a mere housewife didn't need industry resources. He threw an unlimited black credit card on the desk, telling her to go buy some jewelry and stop throwing a tantrum. That same night, he paraded Blair at a Wall Street gala wearing the Decker family's heirloom sapphire, letting Manhattan's elite look at Kinsley with pity and mockery. When Blair boldly moved into their master bedroom, Christian fiercely defended the mistress, warning Kinsley not to cause a scene over nothing. Ten years of quiet devotion were trampled for a fake heiress's vanity. Kinsley looked at the man she had loved, her heart turning completely to ash. She finally understood that in this massive estate, there was never any room for her. She took off her platinum wedding ring, left all his luxury gifts behind, and walked out of the mansion empty-handed. Then, she calmly dialed a private number to her production team. "Scrap the fellowship transition. I'm taking the director's chair directly." She was going to make Blair audition for her on a global live stream, and let Christian watch his precious investment burn.

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.