How Did Something'S Wrong Become A Viral Book Excerpt?

⚠️WARNING: This book contains explicit sexual content, possessive and toxic male leads, manipulation, emotional abuse, and disturbing themes that may be triggering to some readers. This is nothing like healthy love. ¥¥¥¥ I loved Tyler Beaumont for twelve years. Years of hoping and waiting, believing that one day, he would finally choose me. So when my parents told me I was being arranged to marry into his family… I thought it was fate. I thought I had won. But I was wrong, because the man waiting for me at the altar isn’t Tyler. It’s his brother, Grayson Beaumont. The one I never heard of—the one with cold eyes, a cruel mouth, and a hatred for me sharp enough to bleed. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I don’t even remember. But he does. He remembers everything. He didn’t marry me for love, because from the moment I became his wife, he made one thing clear—I would pay for a past I don’t even remember. “I tried to forget you,” he tilted my chin, staring directly into my soul. “But watching you love him? That was the first time I understood what hatred really feels like.” And Tyler? The man I spent twelve years loving? He won’t let me go. “I don’t need you to choose me,” he whispered. “I just need you to understand… no matter whose name you take, you will always be mine.” Two brothers. One filled with hatred. The other with obsession. And me? Caught between a past I can’t remember…and a truth that could destroy us all. Because somewhere between lies, desire, and betrayal, I realize the most dangerous thing of all: I was never meant to love the right brother.

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

My roommate had a peculiar knack for pestering everyone into liking her posts on social media, all so she could collect enough likes to claim some prize or another. It was her way of life—nagging, nudging, and guilting us into clicking that little thumbs-up. One time, the campus beauty queen liked my roommate's ad for a facial mask. Not long after, she was in a horrific car accident. The vehicle caught fire, and her face suffered severe burns, leaving her disfigured beyond recognition. Meanwhile, my roommate seemed to undergo a miraculous transformation, her complexion turning porcelain fair and flawless as though she'd been kissed by the heavens. Then there was the academic prodigy, a shoe-in for graduate school, who liked her tutoring service post. Shortly after, he was exposed for academic fraud, and his once-brilliant reputation was reduced to ashes. Strangely enough, my roommate's research paper suddenly won an award, catapulting her to fame and fortune. And me? I fell into her trap too. I liked her rental agency ad, and before I knew it, my world crumbled. A scandal erupted, revealing that I was the result of a mix-up at birth. It turned out she was the long-lost child of wealth and privilege—a hidden gem cast into the rough, now reclaimed by her rightful family. As for me, I was packed off to the countryside village she had escaped from and forced into a brutal marriage with an old man. My life became a living hell, and eventually, I died there, broken and forgotten. But fate wasn't done with me yet. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my roommate begged me to like her post in exchange for yet another prize.

When The Counselor Falling In Love To Mr. Wrong... Zillion Malloy the CEO frustrated at being abandoned by his wife comes to see a beautiful counselor for advice on his tumultuous household. Caroline had never been so furious to a client who was so skeptical and cynical about the advice she could give him for the good of his household. But over time the relationship between the client and the counselor turns into a forbidden love affair which is very exciting for both of them. Caroline, who has been living alone with her adopted daughter, feels Zillion is a different man from her former husbands. Even Zillion slowly started to forget his wife and turned to the beautiful counselor, Ms. Caroline Chauffer

During the holiday, my husband and I attended a free health screening organized by our local community clinic. The doctors diagnosed me with late-stage lung cancer. But after a follow-up examination, I learned the truth—the hospital had mixed up the test samples. The one who actually had lung cancer was my husband. We had always had a loving marriage, so I rushed home in tears. On the way back, I had already made up my mind to use every cent of my savings to pay for his treatment. But the moment I reached the door, I heard our son's worried voice from inside. "Dad, it's already late-stage cancer. Treatment is just going to be a money pit." I was about to push the door open and tell them not to worry about the money when I heard my husband reply indifferently, "It's fine. Your mom's already terminal. Treatment would be a waste anyway. I'll convince her to give up." I froze on the spot. Without a word, I slipped the bank card containing 300 thousand dollars back into my pocket. Fine. Wonderful. Then give up treatment.