What Happens At The Ending Of The Peach Worker?

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

Ten years ago, Rayden’s family was mercilessly slaughtered. He was left for dead, a mere shadow of a once-respected clan. In the eyes of the world, Rayden was gone. But in the darkness, he grew. Honing forbidden arts. Nurturing an unquenchable rage. Now, Rayden returns. Not as an heir, not as a hero. But as a sinner. A cultivator who has chosen a forbidden path for one reason—revenge. Beneath the veil of the modern world, cultivator clans hide their secrets, their artifacts, and their power. The Bramasta family, seemingly clean on the surface, is his first target. But the deeper Rayden infiltrates, the larger the web he uncovers, including a name that has haunted his every waking moment—Lucien Dorne. Every step Rayden takes will challenge the laws of cultivation, uncover old betrayals, and test his own moral limits. Because to destroy a monster, sometimes, you have to become a greater one.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

"You're my Amber" I heard his low voice as he moved in and out at such a perfect pace that I felt like I would melt in a matter of seconds. There was very, very little left, and my belly was contracting painfully. "All mine! Amber, a spoiled young woman from a wealthy family, sees her world turn upside down when her father loses the family fortune due to scams. She and her mother are forced to move to the outskirts of New York City, finding themselves in a hostile environment where opportunities are scarce. Desperate for a means of support, Amber lands an unexpected job at a prestigious company. To her surprise, her boss is someone from her past whom she never imagined encountering again. Though initially reluctant to accept the maid position, she soon realizes it's her only chance to have a roof over her head. As Amber immerses herself in the responsibilities of her new job, she discovers long-forgotten memories beginning to resurface. Amidst the day-to-day challenges, she finds herself confronting uncomfortable truths about her past and her own identity. What she initially viewed as a mere temporary job unfolds into a journey of self-discovery and redemption, where secrets from the past intertwine with future possibilities.

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

The wife of a renowned designer thought I was not good enough to be seen with her. So, when the award ceremony came, she brought along her young, handsome secretary, someone who suited her image much better. I did not argue or make a scene. I ignored the secretary's quiet provocations and stayed perfectly calm. My wife, taken aback by how 'sensible' I had become, must have thought I had finally given up on her. For the first time, she did not sneer or mock me. Instead, she spoke gently for once, and told me to stay home and wait for her. She even promised a 'big surprise' for my birthday. I lowered my eyes and nodded, hiding the heaviness inside. She did not know that today, I was walking away for good.