Augusto Guerra Elementary Mga Nobela at Kwento

Ever since I was born, Mom had loved making promises she never intended to keep. When my elementary school teacher said I had potential for advanced math competitions, she beamed with pride. "Caroline Fisher, you're amazing! Whatever tutoring you need, just say the word. I work hard so you can spend however you like!" However, she could not even cough up the 50-dollar class fee. Instead, she turned around and enrolled my two-year-old sister, Hailey Fisher, in premium preschool enrichment classes. I ended up eating plain meals every day, scraping together the class fee from my lunch money. When I got accepted to Vanford College, the best school in the country, Mom grabbed my hands excitedly and promised, "I knew you'd make it big! Tomorrow, we're throwing a big party to celebrate!" But the next day, she locked me in the house. Meanwhile, she rented the city's most luxurious banquet hall for Hailey, who had dropped out of middle school. She stole my acceptance letter and bragged to everyone at the party, "Hailey is so gifted, she got into Vanford College's gifted program at 13!" After her endless bragging, everyone believed that I was slow and useless, while Hailey was a prodigy. I gritted my teeth and pushed through until graduation, finally landing a job I actually wanted. Yet, after my pre-employment medical exam, Mom suddenly grabbed my hand tightly, her gaze determined. "Caroline, don't be scared! Cervical cancer has a really high survival rate! Even if it costs every penny I have, I'll be right here fighting this cancer with you!" Then, she turned the corner into the stairwell and burst out laughing with Hailey. "Finally, we can dump Caroline, that burden! She actually thinks I'd help her with treatment? I wish she'd hurry up and die!" When the doctor approached to discuss surgery details, I waved him off with a cold smile. "Cancel the surgery. Hailey's the one who's sick, and I have no obligation to worry about her!"

My mom was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her life is smooth-sailing most of the time. The only mistake she's ever made is falling for my dad. That's why she insists on finding me a husband who's the complete opposite of my dad. My dad is tall and intimidating-looking, so Mom wants someone who's short and perverted-looking. My dad is a knowledgeable and well-read man, so Mom wants a guy who has only graduated from elementary school. My dad prioritizes his moral integrity more than anything else, so Mom prefers a guy who drinks, gambles, and sleeps around. She tells me, "This type of man is easy to manipulate, unlike your father, who just divorced me out of nowhere!" It's true that the man Mom has chosen for me won't divorce me. After all, he leeches from me on top of beating me up. It's not enough to leech my money from me, it seems—he just has to take everything from me. My mom says in a righteous tone, "This is the only way that proves you're valuable to him. He won't divorce you at all." I've fought back and escaped from my husband many times. Every time I do, my mom will trick me into returning to him by hurting herself. As always, I'm greeted with another round of beating whenever I do return to him. Mom will take me to the hospital to get my injuries treated. Then, she'll say, "Hurry up and give birth to a son for him. Once you have a son, you'll be extremely valuable to your husband. He won't beat you up anymore." Today is supposed to be the day Mom takes me to the hospital to check my ovulation timing. She spends a long time calling me on the phone, yet I never pick up. After that, she sends me a few audio messages that last for 60 seconds each just to lecture me. "Beatrice Anderson, what makes you think you can just ignore my calls? The hospital check-up is for your own good! As long as you can get pregnant with a son, your husband will be wrapped around your finger! He won't divorce you after this! Why can't you understand how much I care for you?" I seriously can't understand at all. After all, I've gotten beaten to death yesterday. My corpse is cut into 28 chunks, and they are being frozen in the fridge as I speak.

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

A single misstep, and the consequences were severe. I am Moxie Guerra, known to all who know me as a devil with the face of an angel. At the age of seventeen, I am a woman with high standards in every aspect of life. I insist on the best food, the most luxurious clothing, and when it comes to men, they must be extraordinarily wealthy, attractive, and well-known. Born to my father's mistress, who passed away after my birth, I am scorned by my father's second family. As the daughter of a mafia boss, I was brought up in a perilous environment. No one perceived me as patient or kind. Instead, I was feared, much like my father, which was my Achilles' heel. However, when I discovered that my father had arranged my marriage to the richest son in the country without my approval, my rebellious streak surfaced. I wasn't just the daughter of a mafia boss for appearances. I was as obstinate and egocentric as my father. I decided to flee to a place where my father would least expect me to be. I stopped at the nearest bar for some liquid courage before driving to my mother's hometown. It was a humble province, filled with trees and dirt roads, a stark contrast to my opulent lifestyle. But my survival was more crucial than my sophisticated tastes. However, my car broke down in the middle of a vast highway on the way there. Despite being inebriated, I managed to survive. A man in a black Hummer arrived and came to my aid. His smile was menacing and disconcerting.

(MATURE CONTENT) She was exceptionally beautiful and I wanted to make her mine. Tugging on her jeans, I pulled it off and she gasped when I knelt down in front of her p***y. The milky complexion of her thigh was entrancing and I kissed it before sucking down on it harshly, over and over again, leaving countless kiss marks on her thigh as I worked my way up. Her moans were increasing in volume and I smiled as I watched her bite her lips and thread a hand through my hair, gripping tightly as she tried her hardest to keep her moans in. “Why do you smell so sweet, huh?” I murmured, my lips brushing over her lace underwear. “Do you know how insane you're driving me right now?” I kissed her straight through her panties, and she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. ——- ——- ——- “I offered myself to save my brother. Now I’m his captive—his slave. But the longer I stay, the less I want to run.” When Tamara witnesses her boss’s brutal murder, she never expects to end up in the hands of Leon Guerra—the ruthless mafia responsible. To save her brother from Leon’s wrath, Tamara strikes a desperate deal: Offering herself, in exchange for her brother’s life. She expected pain. She didn’t expect passion. Now she’s caught in a web of obsession, danger, and forbidden desire—and falling for the man she swore to hate.

"You're one interesting girl my princess," he said. At the same time, his eyes peered into mine as his hands slipped into my dress tracing my legs up to my upper thigh. My bare back pressed against the wall feeling the touch of his palm on my skin which sent tingling shivers down my spine and for some reason, I felt a smile creep up on my lips. "And you aren't a Saint either". __ Jade Flores who works part-time at the infamous Red bar, had just graduated and is looking to make her life better. She's innocent, makes impulsive decision sometimes and just wishes to continue hiding from her wicked uncle. Saint Gennaro Guerra, the city's infamous Mafia lord. He's Stoic, stern, dominant and of course, handsome. No one who has ever crossed him made it out of the 'dead hole'. The two cross paths when one of Saint's men who betrayed him happens to be Jade's cousin, Marcel popularly known as 'Tequila'. Saint rescues her from his archenemy, Matrix who is also in search of Tequila. Saint then holds Jade as his property when he cannot find Tequila. Jade starts to fall hard for him and in as much as he pushes her away each time and keeps his walls high, she doesn't stop trying to break his walls. What happens when the city's infamous man keeps facing different situations with the girl who works at the infamous bar? Will they have themselves to fall back to? Will Saint reciprocate her feelings?