Can I Read 'In The Face Of The Sun' Online For Free?

Book one of The Moon & Sun Series. Fate is a very funny thing. Sometimes it can bring something amazing into your life, a grand new adventure that will test and challenge you. That will help you grow and learn where you belong in this world. Other times, well... she's just a gigantic witch with a sick sense of humour. I never asked for any of this to happen, to be beat down, hurt and struggle and fight everyday to grow and get better. This was never what I imagined my life would be like. But I'm not one to shy away from a challenge. And I sure as hell won't let a man define me. I make my own path, I will do what needs to be done and if I have to do it on my own, well then so be it.I'll be stronger for it, and there's nothing a man fears more than a strong woman.

Java, 1586. The martial world is thrown into chaos when a string of brutal murders claims some of its most powerful masters. The killer leaves behind a chilling signature, calling himself Pangeran Langit, the Prince of the Sky. Elsewhere, another predator stalks the land. A bringer of death known only as Tanpa Aran, Nameless. Freshly returned to the Sultanate of Pasir after wandering the eastern territories, Wisnumurti finds himself racing against time to stop both killers before their trail of blood reaches his homeland, Mount Cakrabuana. But his mission unravels when Jaladri—eager for a taste of adventure—is abducted by Suwung Saketi and Remak, two deranged martial artists with a horrifying appetite for cooking and eating human flesh. As the world teeters on the brink of disaster with the rise of a terrifying devil-worshiping sect, Wisnumurti and his companions are drawn into a deadly conspiracy rooted in a blood-soaked past. Secrets long buried begin to surface, dragging countless lives into their wake. If they fail to uncover the truth before it's too late, Pasir will descend into slaughter once again—and become the perfect hunting ground for those Darkness worshippers.

I was a plus-size girl, weighing about 220 pounds. On graduation day, I finally gathered the courage to confess my feelings to Calvin Preston, the heartthrob I had been crushing on for three years. Surprisingly, he said yes! To celebrate, we went out that night. But things took a dark turn. I was tricked into drinking too much and was drugged. Calvin and his buddies violated me and, to make matters worse, they filmed it all. The next thing I knew, the video had gone viral online with a cruel caption, “Who’s brave enough to try a 220-pound girl?” As the humiliating video spread like wildfire, the shock and shame were too much for my grandfather to bear. It broke his heart, quite literally.

The day my wife gave birth to my foster brother's child, my entire family waited tensely outside the delivery room. They were not concerned about whether Sheila Rogers would make it through labor safely. They were worried I might turn up and make a scene. My mother kept glancing at the elevator. "He won't try to come up the stairs, will he?" My father was on the phone with hospital security again and again. "Yes, about six foot three. Have you seen him?" My brother stayed coiled and ready, fists clenched. "If my brother causes trouble, I'll lay down my life to protect Sheila and my son." However, from the start of labor to the moment Sheila delivered safely and both mother and child were declared healthy, I never showed up. Reclining on the hospital bed, Sheila took out her phone and asked my mother to call me. "Tell Hank not to cause any trouble," she said calmly. "If he's willing to be the child's godfather, we can still live our lives together." She felt absolutely no guilt toward me. From her perspective, she had merely granted my parents their long-standing wish for a grandchild. What fault could there possibly be in that? What no one knew was that I had never planned to go to the hospital. At that very moment, I was training beneath the scorching sun. All for a single reason: in one month, I would deploy with my unit to Safrana on a peacekeeping mission. Once I left, there would be little chance of ever coming back.

When I was 17 years old, I got hit in the head by a falling beam just to save Victoria Chandler, who was stuck in a blazing place. Since then, I become a dummy. In order to save up money for my physical therapy, Victoria gives up on pursuing her studies. Instead, she starts taking up all sorts of odd jobs and manual labor. Ten years have passed since then. Victoria is now the youngest businesswoman of Jeronich. Meanwhile, I'm still the dummy who still needs her to help tie my shoelaces and feed me. But later on, Victoria begins going home later at night. There's only disgust in her eyes when she looks at me. One day, I accidentally break the music box her assistant, Mike Tate, has gifted her. That's the first time she loses her temper at me and drags me all the way to the rooftop. Then, she orders me to jump off the 50-floor building. I have no idea why Victoria wants me to do this. All I know is that I'll get rewarded for being a good boy. Since young, I've been terrified of tall heights. But now, I'm even more terrified by the idea of Victoria abandoning me. With a smile on my face, I back away from Victoria slowly. "Please don't be mad at me, Vicky. I'll always obey your orders."

When I was three years old, my parents became infamous in our social circle as a mutually destructive couple for a misunderstanding that led them to cheat on each other. To get revenge on each other, they didn’t hesitate to hurt me just to hurt one another. Over the next five years, my mother beat me until my bones broke three times. My father “lost” me on purpose five times. And once, during one of their arguments, they threw me straight into the ocean. Eventually, they grew tired of that life, but instead of stopping, they changed the game. They got divorced, and each of them adopted a new child, showering them with affection as if it were some kind of competition As for me? I became the unwanted piece of trash. The only time I mattered was when they thought of each other, and they needed someone to take their anger out on. The only thing that kept me going was a small locket pendant they gave me when I was born. Engraved on it were the words: peace and joy. It was the only source of comfort I had. That was until I turned ten and someone tried to take this last piece of something that felt like it belonged to me away from me. I fought back with everything I had, and for that, I was beaten until my spleen ruptured. By the time my parents arrived, the ground was soaked in blood. However, their faces twisted with disgust. “Daisy, how did you end up like this? You’re just as disgusting as your father.” “What did you say? Say that again! Just look at her, dressed like that. If anything, she’s just as shameless as you!” My cries for help were drowned out by their argument. My body grew heavier and heavier, and before I realized it, the world went quiet. They finally stopped arguing, too.