6913 Book(s) Related to the tyrants annals

La vida de Estelle era como un cuento de hadas, llena de amor y promesas. Sin embargo, la tragedia llegó el día de su boda. El padre de Estelle y los padres de Cristofer estuvieron involucrados en un accidente automovilístico que les quitó la vida al instante. La pérdida fue devastadora para Cristofer, lo que lo hizo caer en una profunda tristeza y enojo hacia Estelle.
Una tragedia tras otra, Estelle se encuentra luchando contra el cáncer, la desilusión y el engaño. En un mundo donde todo parece perdido, Estelle debe profundizar para encontrar la fuerza para luchar por lo que más ama.


La voz magnética pero fría de Cristofer sacó a Estelle de su ensueño: "¡Firma el papel de divorcio ahora!".
Estelle se recostó, se sentó y preguntó: "¿Bebiste?".
"No es asunto tuyo."
"Beber es malo para el estómago".
"Necesito beber para no sentir asco al tener sexo contigo".
"¿No podías esperar para divorciarte de mí?" Su voz sonaba débil.
Ella le dio la espalda cuando el humo casi la sofocó, y comenzó a toser de nuevo.
"Sabes eso, ¿verdad?" Cristofer respiró deliberadamente una bocanada de humo en su dirección y se sintió inexplicablemente satisfecho al verla toser y temblar.

“As you make your bed, you must lie in it. Pretty noble to sell your body for your brother. And you nearly lost your life for your cheap friend? A sacrifice must be your life motto. Who do you think you are? A saint?”

He captured her, and had no way to escape this devil. In his peculiar way, both tough and gentle, she can only accept it and lower her guard down.

He was looking for someone who stole his disc and took someone who’s just an ordinary and young supermarket staff.

Her life has totally changed since she met him. He forces everything, including a three-year contract, to be his woman. Her enchanting beauty captured him, and the love-hate journey started.

She was forced to accept a marriage proposal from a strange billionaire to pay her huge debt and to take back her inheritance left to him when her mother died.

Nathan’s lawyer handed her the documents, including the marriage certificate.

Things were moving much faster than she had imagined they would, and everything happening seemed too easy. Too good to be true - a voice in her mind cried out - Be careful! It’s a trap! If it was a trap, though, it was very cleverly hidden.

Crystal contemplated the proposal for a moment before addressing Mike, his lawyer. “I only have two questions,” she said. “The first question is this: if I sign it, does it mean that I don’t need to pay my debt?”

Mike: “Yes. And your second question...?”

Crystal: “Okay, I haven’t reached the legal age for marriage yet, so even if I sign it, it won’t take effect. Is that right?”

Nathan quickly raised his hand and said, “If I say that it is effective, no one will dare to say that it isn’t. Do you believe that?”

“I suppose so,” Crystal admitted. She hesitated for a moment, and then she signed the marriage certificate.

Months later, she asked for a divorce from him. He stared at her in silence, then he uttered, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“What does that have to do with our divorce?” Crystal asked.

“I’m only asking because I care about you,” Nathan murmured.

“I’ll be happy if you say that you care about me,” Nathan continued. “Why must you torture me this way? Haven’t I done enough to prove my love for you?”

She was stunned hearing his confession and the words stuck in her throat.

"Wait," she breathed. "We have to stop. This isn’t just conversation."
"It's better than talking," he murmured, kissing her neck.
"No, we need to have a conversation," she insisted. "Get off me, let me get dressed."
"You can't make love while dressed," he replied, playfully biting her earlobe.
"Listen to me," she urged. "I'm trying to be serious, alright? I realize I shouldn’t have fled."
"What’s this about?" he asked, his tone growing cold.
"I simply want to resolve things," she said earnestly, gazing into his eyes.
A flicker of disgust crossed his features, and his lips turned downward, "I see what's going on. You think I'll forget your betrayal if you let me fuck you."

She fled from her wedding, which led to her own downfall and became a lasting nightmare. She chose to elope with another man instead of the one who truly loved her. That man deceived her, coaxing her into abandoning her husband, ultimately driving her to her demise.
She returned to consciousness and found herself lying on their matrimonial bed.
A firm yet gentle grip enclosed her wrist, leading her hand to the front of his pants. She observed her small, pale hand beside his large, tanned fingers, allowing him to press her palm against him.
It would be so simple to let him take control, to surrender to him. She craved it. She yearned to feel his strong hands exploring every part of her body.

Marry a billionaire after a one-night stand：

“We have agreed to leave each other to our own business. I hope you have a good reason for coming here.”

“Yes, we agreed to that, but not to a sexless marriage. Sex is essential for a lasting marriage.” Selene chuckled.

Clint also smiled, then sneered. “Do you like sex without love? Did you marry me because you enjoyed the sex that much?”

Selene frowned, aware of the implications of his words. But she did not know why he said it.

And the unopened file named “HER” appeared in her mind again.

“I believe it’s important for a healthy relationship.”

“Only the sex?”

“I thought we agreed on it.”

“Nonsense!” Clint exploded with anger.

After thinking for a while, Selene replied, “Okay, sorry for disturbing you. I’m going to bed.”

Before she went back to the bedroom and lay on the bed, Clint suddenly caught up with her and pushed her onto the bed. “What are you doing?!” Selene was frightened.

Clint was violently tearing Selene’s home dress and groaned. “Fulfilling my obligation as a husband!”

The Percy Family Heir's Scandal Leaks Again!

Cecilia Davis sat curled up in the master bedroom, scrolling through photos of Edward Percy and Jessica Brown.

The photos were taken secretly, but from a sharp angle.

Through a car window — the two of them, going at it hard.

Cecilia let out a cold laugh, tossed the photos into the trash, and felt a wave of deep exhaustion wash over her eyes.

"Do I really have to cut it?"

"Ma'am, this is Mr. Percy's request. Only if you cut your hair as short as Ms. Brown's can we clear up last night's rumors. Of course, you don't have to go — that is, if you never want to see your brother again."

Edward's assistant Leo spoke with a dismissive air, not a trace of respect in his eyes.

As if she, the so-called Mrs. Percy, was nothing more than a joke that nobody needed.

And honestly, that's exactly what she was.

Lydia's POV

"The patient in Bed 7 has been here three months now, right? Not a single family visit."

"Her husband just pays the bills and leaves. Doesn't even look at her. Poor thing."

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to two nurses whispering outside my door. My fingers rested weakly against the edge of the mattress.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.

My husband, Sebastian Carter, came once. He stood in the doorway—didn't step inside—signed the papers with a blank expression, and never came back.

Sebastian was a writer. He locked himself in his study all day, leaving me to spend night after night alone in the living room. We lived under the same roof like strangers from different worlds.

I'd grown used to this hollow marriage. I didn't even bother calling him anymore.

Footsteps echoed outside.

I turned my head toward the door. Sebastian stood there in his familiar charcoal coat, his face expressionless.

"You came." I was surprised. I forced myself to sit up, my body weak and trembling.

Sebastian didn't answer. He walked straight to the bedside and set a document on the nightstand. "Sign it."

I picked it up. The words at the top read: 'Divorce Agreement.'

On a stormy night, a horrific crash unfolded on the overpass. The victim was brought to the city forensic center.
My husband, Ethan, slipped on his gloves and expertly examined my shattered body, his voice detached. "Record this: Female, approximately twenty-five years old, suffered severe trauma before death."
His assistant sighed. "That's rough. Not a single family member showed up."
Just then, the assistant slid a misshapen silver band off my mud-streaked finger.
"Sir, this ring... isn't it identical to the one you keep in your desk drawer?"
With a sharp clatter, the scalpel slipped from Ethan's hand and hit the floor.

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

My name is Jack Morris, a bottom-rung janitor on the docks.
Every day, people walk all over me, and I live on moldy bread.
Until one day, an old man I saved handed me a photograph. "This is my granddaughter. She's being held at the Black Swan Casino."
That used to be my place. Ten years ago.
Her father was a brother who died in my place.
I was once the king of the underground.
And now, at the banquet celebrating the tenth anniversary of my death, they're treating that old man's granddaughter like a toy.
If my disappearance only made those animals more brazen...
Then they can finish that drink and celebrate their own deaths next.

A gang boss ground my treasured staff into dust with one boot. “A gutter-bred bastard from the slums, and you’re hiding something this delicate? Cripple him. Let him learn who runs this turf.”
I stared at the silver-white powder on the floor. It was the last relic my brothers left me.
I once swore these hands would be used only to save people, never to kill again.
But today, even the heavens refused to allow it.
I lifted my head slowly. The elven ears I’d kept lowered in submission rose one by one in the dark, sharp as a wolf’s.
“You’re asking me who runs this turf?”
My fist snapped out and caved in the boss’s nose.
I twisted backhanded. Three elite enforcers had their bones shattered in an instant, collapsing like sacks of rotten meat.
I grabbed the boss by the throat with one hand and hoisted his two-hundred-pound body into the air, eyes cold as if I were staring at a corpse.
“Three years ago, when I laid down the rules in this district, you didn’t even know where you were playing in the mud.”
“My things are not for you to touch.”

The global freeze descended, and the apocalypse arrived right on cue. I seized all the critical supplies and evacuated first, leaving "the perfect base" behind for the two traitors who backstabbed me. They thought it was heaven, but little did they know that the entire fortress was a precision trap constructed of deception, scarcity, and despair. As the outdoor temperature plummeted to minus eighty degrees, I sat by the window, roasting venison and watching them through high-definition infrared, coldly observing as they lost their humanity in the desperate fight for a single bowl of sawdust.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.