The Sans-Culottes

IT WAS late afternoon when Andy began to pick up the clothes she had hung up this morning, but she stopped what she was doing when she heard shouts and footsteps outside their backyard as if those people are in a hurry. So she peeked through the hole in their wall that is already brittle. But to her surprised, someone suddenly jumped out from the outside and entered their yard-- a man wearing a black hoody jacket. "W-who are you?!" Andy managed to ask, so the man turned slightly to her which caused her to see the man’s face. "Shit," that's all the man said and ran away... carrying her... "Hey, shit! My panties, give them back to me!" Andy shouted but he didn’t look at her again. Her panty which was hung outside was taken by a stranger. And now, the question running to Andy’s mind is… ‘Who’s that guy who stole my panty?’

Behind the four walls of French college nothing is saint or pure. Students in this prestigious college all hail from their respective wealthy background. Their parents are all the most powerful and wealthiest. By luck, Sara was enrolled in this college thanks to her filthy wealthy step father. She had thought all that was said about the college are Truth but no! It wasn't.

Pain That's what I have been through for the past three years Betrayed and abandoned by my own family made me who I am today,but for that am forever grateful. They made me who I am today and for that it's time to rise from ashes and claim back what's mine. Isabella Rosa or do we say Marie now loses her parents through arson. Within 24 hours she loses her parents,her fiancé and her rightful will to her so called family who betrayed her. No one in the family knows that she survived the fire,they all think she's dead. What will happen when she avails herself not as Marie but as Isabella Rosa Morrone?Will she claim back what's rightfully hers? Will she dignify her parents name again?

While solving one of the cases, detective Esther Moore comes across a legend that grandmother told her long ago. Soon the line between what is real and what is not gradually blurs. Are the legendary 'Scarlet Angels' real or is Esther losing her mind?

It was our sixth wedding anniversary. Lord Tom didn't pledge his vows to me, but instead gave me his family's crest—a dim, unstable mark, the mark of a blood slave. That very night, while solemn hymns echoed through the hall, he performed a blood oath ceremony with his pure-blood first love, Lady Mia. I refused the mark. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Love is a luxury only immortals can afford, Rowling," he said. "My union with Mia is a political necessity—to maintain the purity of the bloodline." His gaze turned icy. "You are a mortal. You should be content with my protection. Few receive such a blessing." I didn't speak.I left before dawn. Six years later, we met again at a banquet hosted by the Vampire High Council. Tom walked in with Mia, her silk dress shimmering silver in the moonlight. Under his rule, his family was about to gain a seat in the Senate. His gaze found me. I stood in the hotel's decorative fountain, the water up to my ankles, soaking wet, sand clinging to my dress. A familiar look of contempt flickered across his face. "Rowling," he said coldly. "You refused my protection, mocked my generosity. Now you're rummaging through a public fountain like a beggar." The corners of his mouth curled slightly. "Do you really think any vampire would take in a mortal without a protector?" I didn't look up. I was searching for my son's tourmaline that had fallen into the water. But to my son, it was a seal—an ancient restraint, suppressing a power that shouldn't awaken so early. I could already feel it weakening. If the seal cannot be repaired in time, the power erupting within him will destroy the entire building.

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."