Who Is The Author Of The Book With Chapters Based On Death Note?

This author once failed as a heroine… and returned as something entirely different. Not as a savior. But as the villain. And she didn’t come back empty-handed. She brought secrets. She brought sins. She brought a story that was never meant to be read. Sinners & Saints is not just a collection of dark romance stories— It is a confession. A warning. And a door best left unopened. Within these pages lie twisted love stories where desire and destruction walk hand in hand, and every choice comes with a cost. So the question is simple: Will you turn away… or step inside anyway?

Soul Eaters"It started out slowly, quietly; as epidemics usually do... This was something else, something that could only be dreamt up in the darkest recesses of the mind."With the world coming to an end, Vicki's black and white world is about to be shaken to the core. She must relearn all she's ever known and believed. She must wake up in time to take a path only she can take. But who can she trust? Will she be able to see past her narrow views of the world?Journey for the SoulsThe world is a tomb. Death, destruction and chaos are at their doorstep threatening everything they hold dear. Soul Eaters. A name designed to strike fear into even the bravest. Between fighting her family and the very world any woman would lose herself to the strain. But Vicki has to hold it together. She has to survive otherwise it's not just her soul at stake.*Extreme violence* *18+* *Some content may disturb*Soul Eaters is created by R.L. Ankney, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

I found an old quill in an antique shop and decided to buy it since I have always wanted to write with quills. However, as soon as I touched the quill to the paper, I was transported into the book. I wasn't the only one there, though three males who always hide their identities behind masks were in the book with me. They claim the quill belongs to them, and I must return it. Since I refuse, they follow me into every book I go into. One day, I was debating which of my mature books to write when I accidentally spilled the ink onto my book, 1001 Dark Tales. The only way they'll help me out of the book is if I give the quill back, and there is now a fourth. As I go through more of the book with them, I start noticing things. Things I had never planned for in my book, and it concerned me because even though I hadn't written those parts yet, none of the other stories I had used the quill on had ever gone that off track. However, when we tried to leave the book, it wouldn't let us back out. It seems we're stuck in the book until we finish all 1001 Dark Tales.

A serial killer targeted me. My sister-in-law was assaulted and murdered while trying to save me. Not only did I refuse to call the police, I pushed my father-in-law and mother-in-law down a flight of stairs when they came to help. I even helped the killer destroy the evidence. When my husband learned that his entire family got killed, he broke down in tears. He grabbed me by the collar and demanded, "Why? Why would you do this?" I deliberately waved photographs of his family's gruesome deaths in front of him and burst into laughter. "Why?" I sneered. "Because they deserved it." My parents begged me to cooperate so I wouldn't be sentenced to death. Instead, I publicly severed all ties with them. Meanwhile, the murderer who escaped justice struck again, claiming another victim. As public outrage reached its peak, I was selected for the Memory Extraction Program. Before the sentence was carried out, my husband asked me one final time, "The Memory Extraction System is still a prototype. You could die during the procedure. "Tell us the truth now, and there's still a chance to make things right." I slowly raised my head to look at him. "You're not getting a single word out of me." The crowd instantly erupted. People shouted that a worthless life like mine deserved to die. But when my memories were finally extracted, they were the ones crying and begging someone to save me.