Thought
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The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
"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...
Chapter 1
Sloane POV:
Fresh off winning a bloody turf war, Beau Tucker publicly announced in front of the cheering club crowd that Farrah Hicks was now his one-and-only official Old Lady.
As for me? I was to be stripped of my title and downgraded to his personal Sweetbutt—a mere plaything.
"Look at her," one of the Sweetbutts sitting in the corner booth whispered loudly to her friends, snickering behind her manicured nails. "Thought she was the untouchable biker princess. Now she's just Tucker's free maid. Pathetic."
My fingers curled so tightly around the neck of a Lone Star beer bottle that my knuckles turned bone-white. The surrounding cheers seemed to be instantly sucked away; my mind went completely blank, leaving only a deafening ringing in my ears.
I shoved past the crowd blocking my way, walking step by step to the wooden bar counter, my eyes locked dead on the man I had loved for nine years.
"Beau, what kind of joke are you playing?" I spoke, my voice trembling uncontrollably, carrying a pathetic sense of disbelief even to my own ears. "Nine years ago, you swore an oath on your Cut. You said I was your only..."
"Shut up, Sloane." Beau's triumphant smile vanished. He furrowed his brows, a flash of impatience crossing his pale blue eyes. "Don't kill the buzz in front of my brothers."
He exhaled a breath heavy with cheap whiskey, looking down at me with condescension. "I just secured the northern highway for this club. It was Farrah who fought side by side with me on the road. We have a bond that a woman like you, who only belongs in a kitchen, couldn't possibly understand. I'm allowing you to stay by my side, and you should be on your knees thanking me."
"Thanking you?" A sour, burning ache swelled in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being brutally crushed by an invisible hand.
I fought hard against the choke in my voice, staring him down. "For spending my dead father's money to boost your ego? Or for making me work like a mule day and night to serve your sick mother, while you were out 'fighting side by side' with another woman?!"
Those words accurately pierced Beau's fragile and insecure nerves. His face flushed instantly, twisted by pure, vicious fury. He grabbed my arm and yanked me close, dropping his voice into a cruel, venomous hiss meant to tear my soul apart.
"You think you're still some high-and-mighty biker princess?" he sneered, his words dripping with poison. "Wake up, Sloane! Your father and brothers died in a highway shootout long ago. And your mother, your sister-in-law, even your ten-year-old nephew—they were butchered without mercy by the Vultures in that safe house! You're the only one left! You're a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline. Letting you stay as my plaything is the greatest mercy you'll ever get!"
The words hit me like a shotgun blast at point-blank range, right in the chest.
The memories of that blood-soaked floor, of my young nephew's blood-soaked bed, ripped through my mind in a frantic, agonizing tear. This was the deepest, most devastating wound in my soul.
And now, the man I once loved unconditionally was ruthlessly ripping it open in front of a cheering crowd, pouring coarse salt on it just to protect his pathetic ego.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted the heavy metallic tang of blood.
But in that very second, the heart-shredding agony suddenly stopped. Looking at Beau's face, which had become hideous from sheer malice, all the illusions I had of him shattered to dust in my mind.
I finally realized that the man standing before me wasn't worth a single drop of my tears. Nine years of my youth had been fed to a cold-blooded beast.
"Beau's right, honey," Farrah drawled, swaying her hips as she strolled over. She linked her arm possessively through Beau's. "He needs a real woman by his side, but I'm not a jealous bitch. I'm totally fine with you staying to warm his bed when I'm tired, as long as you recognize your place. We can coexist."
"Sloane Keller, watch your attitude!" Beau's mother, Judith Tucker, marched over, her face twisted in a severe scowl. "Farrah is a heroine. With her around, my heart condition feels so much better! You should be grateful we didn't throw you out to the wolves!"
A wave of pure, absurd mockery washed over me, burning away the last ounce of weakness in my heart.
Heroine? Heart condition? Just last month, when Judith was dying of a severe heart spasm, it was me who begged the underground doctor, paying him with my secretly saved cash just to keep her breathing.
I looked down at the unopened beer bottle in my hand. Then, I raised my arm and, with violent, resolute force, slammed the glass bottle hard onto the wooden bar counter.
The sharp, heavy thud cut through the noise like a gunshot, sending glass shards and alcohol flying everywhere, instantly plunging the room near the bar into a dead silence.
"Coexist?" I looked up, sweeping my gaze past Farrah's shocked face before landing coldly on Beau.
My voice no longer trembled; instead, it was laced with a deadly, freezing calm, stripped of all warmth. "I'd rather swallow glass."
Beau froze, seemingly completely unprepared for me to snap out of my breakdown so instantly.
"Let's get this straight. I'm done being your free maid, and I'm done letting you bleed my father's legacy dry," I said, staring straight into his eyes, enunciating every word and looking at him like a piece of trash. "Our vows are dead. We are done, Beau. Don't ever expect me to look back."
I didn't wait for their reaction. I turned on my heel, pushed the heavy timber doors open, and stormed out into the biting desert night. The night wind dried the very last tear I had shed out of pure stupidity.
Suddenly, I slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle and leather.
A pair of massive, steady hands gripped my shoulders, keeping me from falling. A sharp, overwhelming scent of dark tobacco, gun oil, and something distinctly unique washed over me.
"Watch your step," a deep, gravelly voice rumbled above my head, the vibration traveling right through my chest.
I was so drained by that absolute severing of ties that I couldn't care less. I didn't look up to see his face, nor did I look at the patch on his Cut.
I just gently pulled away from his grip, muttered a low "Thank you," and walked straight to Beau's spare Sportster.
I kicked the starter, tearing out into the black night.
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One Night With Blaze
Blaze Arden Vaughn is an heir of a huge empire, an ace student of medical faculty, very handsome, sweet and nice. His name signifies fire but his heart is as cold as ice. Ace Daxton Anderson is a known 'one night stand' guy and a bi. A gang leader who won't back down from a gang fight and is not afraid to be bruised just to prove his point. They are both in the same university but they have their own territory and never knew each other's existence. Until the day that the Ice Prince fixed his cold gaze on the very hot gang leader on the field. "You want me that bad...that your eyes are screaming it out loud..." Blaze announced with his challenging tone and a calm smile, making Ace's jaw clenched while their gazes locked. "I can smell your desire even from afar..." Blaze continued with a very subtle smirk, making Ace grit his teeth. "Who would not...you are Blaze Arden Vaughn...the epitome of perfection...everybody's dream guy" Ace sarcastically responded, a smirk grazed his lips. His jaw clenching in annoyance not with Blaze but with himself. "So Ace Anderson, want to try, a Blaze Arden Vaughn for tonight?" Blaze smirked as he casually ask, making the grim face of the gang leader looked stunned and dumbfounded. A one night stand offered by the cold and distant Blaze Arden Vaughn, just one night of pleasure... one night of curiosity.
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Forced Marriage With Adored Superstar
"From today onwards, you are my slave. Don't you dare try to escape from my hands. You will live in my control for the rest of your life." For Pearl, marriage was the greatest prison. She would be imprisoned for the rest of her life. But she may have forgotten that there are actually two people in this "prison". Forced to marry by a big star, she couldn't imagine what such a life would be like.
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The Wife You Thought Was Gone
My perfect marriage shattered with an e-vite for my husband's son's first birthday-a son I never knew existed. The true nightmare unfolded at my own birthday party when his mistress, Hayden, had their son run to my husband, Chase, and call him "Daddy" in front of all our friends. In the ensuing chaos, Chase shoved me. I fell, hit my head, and miscarried the baby I had just discovered I was carrying. He left me bleeding on the floor to comfort his mistress and their child. But Hayden wasn't done. To eliminate me for good, she had me kidnapped and thrown off a cliff into a canal, whispering that Chase wanted me gone permanently. I survived. I faked my death and disappeared, channeling my pain into my work. Now, six months later, I'm accepting a prestigious award on international television. I see Chase in the crowd, a broken man rushing toward me, begging for forgiveness. This time, I'm the one who gets to walk away.
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He Thought He Wrote My End
On the first anniversary of our reconciliation, I thought my tech mogul husband and I had finally turned a corner. Then I discovered our entire marriage was a spectator sport. It was a cruel, year-long revenge game orchestrated by him and his lover, and I was the punchline. For their amusement, I was poisoned with food contaminated with dog feces, publicly humiliated with a twenty-million-dollar auction scam, and beaten until my ribs broke by his family's private security. I endured it all, playing the part of the clueless, loving wife while they laughed about it in a group chat called "The Jillian Andrews Comedy Hour." But their grand finale was a step too far. I overheard him calmly planning to leave me to die in a remote cabin during a blizzard, a "tragic accident" that would finally set him free to be with his mistress. He thought he was writing the final chapter of my life. He didn't know I was about to use his murder plot as my own perfect escape. I faked my death, vanished into thin air, and left him to explain to the world how his beloved wife disappeared off the face of the earth.
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Thought
"I can't tell what is real and what is a dream," I murmur, looking up to his silver eyes, glistening mist swirling within his irises. "But I know I can't hold myself back from you any longer. Luella has been having the same dreams every night involving two silver eyed men, who remain elusive durin
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Thought-Culture
Though he typically wrote under the guise of anonymity, using an array of pseudonyms and pen names, author and thinker William Walker Atkinson was an enormously influential figure in the "New Thought" movement. In fact, he is often credited with being the original source of the ideas that later coal
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The Thought of You
(18+. book contains mature scenes) In Joana's life, a complicated love story unfolds. Joana, a young woman scarred by a painful past, simply longs for love and affection. However, she finds herself stuck in a challenging situation, married to Fred Malcolm, a man with a girlfriend. Fred is determin
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He Thought He Wrote My End
On the first anniversary of our reconciliation, I thought my tech mogul husband and I had finally turned a corner. Then I discovered our entire marriage was a spectator sport. It was a cruel, year-long revenge game orchestrated by him and his lover, and I was the punchline. For their amusement, I
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I thought I didn't love you
He is a general, a famous businessman in the upper class. In the white world, he is a billionaire. In the black world, he is a notorious gangster boss. And she is just a small bodyguard. Not only that, she is also his fiancée's bodyguard. The day his fiancée left was also the day he and she got marr
The Wife You Thought Was Gone
My perfect marriage shattered with an e-vite for my husband's son's first birthday-a son I never knew existed. The true nightmare unfolded at my own birthday party when his mistress, Hayden, had their son run to my husband, Chase, and call him "Daddy" in front of all our friends. In the ensuing ch
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The Woman They Thought Was Dead
I woke with the violent jolt of the plane landing, but it wasn't the impact that shocked me deeply; it was the chilling, immediate memory of icy black water filling my lungs as an anchor dragged me down. My husband, Captain Mark Vance, watched from the boat with eyes as blank as a winter sky-the la
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The Woman He Thought He Broke
My life with Ethan, my architect husband, seemed perfect, a harmonious blend of shared dreams and urban aspirations. But that illusion shattered one terrifying weekend when I suffered a life-threatening allergic reaction, struggling to breathe as I collapsed before his eyes. Instead of rushing my
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The Man She Thought She Owned
Tonight, under the spotlight at AuraConnect's 10th-anniversary gala, I was ready to make Jessica, my high school sweetheart and business partner, my wife. We had built a multi-billion-dollar empire from nothing. But as I knelt, ring in hand, her eyes weren't on me; they were glued to her phone, a
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The Billionaire Who Thought I Was Nothing
At twenty-one, Aria Vale believed marriage would give her the family she had always dreamed of. Married to Lucien Blackwood-a wealthy, admired man who promised protection-she sacrificed her dreams, her independence, and her voice. One year later, with a newborn in her arms and no money to her name
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He Thought I'd Stay: His Mistake
Today was my four-year anniversary with Chace. He told me to wear my white dress for a surprise he had planned. I spent all afternoon getting ready, practicing my "Yes," certain he was finally going to propose. But when I arrived at the hotel ballroom, the banner read, "Congratulations, Chace & Kar
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He Thought I Would Silently Endure
On our fifth anniversary, I found my husband's secret USB drive. The password wasn't our wedding date or my birthday. It was his first love's. Inside was a digital shrine to another woman, a meticulous archive of a life he'd lived before me. I searched for my name. Zero results. In five years of ma
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Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels
Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Wife He Thought He Broke
My parents' living room, usually a haven, felt like a courtroom as I delivered my verdict. "The brownstone goes to Emily' s son, Leo." The silence cracked with my mother' s gasp, Lily' s heartbroken whisper, and my father' s stunned roar. They saw a monster, cold and unfeeling, sacrificing my
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The Wife He Thought He Buried
The last thing Chloe Field saw before the darkness took her was her husband's face. Standing over the smoking wreckage of her car, Grey King wore a faint, chilling smile. Just three days earlier, he had told her he wished she were out of his life forever. As blood filled her throat, Chloe finally be
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The Billionaire Thought I Aborted, Then He Met My Twins
I stood in the freezing New York rain, holding a massive umbrella over my husband's mistress while the downpour soaked me to the bone. Julian didn't even look at me; he just tucked Scarlett closer and told me to take a taxi home so they could have "privacy" in the Rolls Royce. When I finally made i
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Political Thought in England from Locke to Bentham
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and re
