Books About Mind Reading 소설 & 이야기

I've just left the washroom when Vanessa Shallow, who has just returned from her maternity leave, covers her mouth as she laughs at me. "Wow, you really are quick when it comes to bathroom breaks, huh? No wonder your sales performance is increasing by leaps and bounds! I suppose it's all thanks to your ability to take off your pants very quickly!" Vanessa acts as though she's joking as she starts making faces at the male colleagues around us. "Right, I forgot how prideful young ladies are nowadays! They can't seem to accept such truths when spoken in such a blunt manner!" The colleagues burst out laughing in a lecherous way afterward. Their perverted gazes keep clinging to my legs the whole time. As I stare at Vanessa's slightly bloated face, my gaze grows cold. It seems that she's so anxious to get her position as the project leader back that she's willing to shed even her sense of shame and propriety. I take a step forward and speak up. "I'm not as skilled as you are when it comes to such things, Vanessa. After all, not everyone is capable of making Mr. Studdard visit their home every midnight during their maternity leave." As soon as my words fall, the previously rowdy office goes deathly silent.

For five years, Elara Ashford was the perfect billionaire wife—gentle, loyal, and endlessly patient. She loved her husband quietly, standing behind him as he rose to the top of the business world. To Julian Ashford, the ruthless CEO of Ashford Group, his wife was nothing more than a convenient presence—someone who would never leave, never complain, and never matter. Until the night he publicly humiliates her and proves, beyond doubt, that she will always come second. Instead of begging or crying, Elara calmly asks for a divorce. Certain she will regret it, Julian signs without hesitation. But Elara doesn’t come back. She disappears—and when she returns, she is no longer the invisible woman he discarded. She is confident, radiant, and untouchable, drawing admiration from powerful men who now see her worth. That is when Julian’s world begins to unravel. Haunted by regret, consumed by obsession, and driven to desperation, the billionaire who once controlled everything finds himself losing sleep, sanity, and pride—all for the woman he cast aside. As Julian abandons his arrogance to chase the wife he never appreciated, Elara must decide whether a man who broke her so completely deserves a second chance. Especially when the truth finally emerges: She was never weak. She was always the one holding his empire together. Now the man who once looked down on her must face the most painful reality of all— losing her may be the one mistake he can never undo.

My husband, Michael Grant's mistress, Lucy Lovelace, is demanding a break-up with him once again. Heartbroken, he drowns his sorrows with alcohol to the point that he has to get hospitalized due to stomach bleeding. Still, Michael keeps mumbling, "She's the only one who has the guts to treat me like this." Then, he grabs my hand and says, "Darling, you're a woman too. Tell me, how should I appease Lucy this time?" Well, Michael has cheated on me so many times. Lucy is the only one he's ever fallen for so far. My phone buzzes at that moment. It's a text from Lucy. "Mrs. Grant, please keep your husband in check! Don't you have any pride as a woman? Tell him to stop bothering me already!" I just smile mockingly. As always, I don't bother responding to Lucy. On the fifth day of Michael's hospitalization, he spams my phone with countless calls. When the latest call goes through, he questions me emotionally, "I'm hospitalized, you know! Why haven't you shown up at all? Do you even care about me as your husband?" I reply calmly, "I'm worried that if I do show up, you'll fall in love with me again."

On graduation day, I caught Julian—the boy who had been my shadow for twelve years—pinning another woman against the wall, kissing her hard. His hand smacked her ass before he scooped her up and carried her into the hotel. When my call interrupted him, he just hung up impatiently and texted back: "Aria, stop playing the fragile little girl with your panic attacks. I'm not your babysitter anymore." "I'm the next in line for the Valerius family. I have real business to handle. I don't have the energy to be your nanny." Then, he coldly sent me a link to some newly developed AI personal assistant app. "If you're that lonely, go chat with the AI. It's way more useful than you clinging to me every day." I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face. A suffocating wave of heartbreak and loss swallowed me whole. My parents died saving his parents—the current Don and Donna of the Valerius Family. We grew up together. He took care of me for twelve years. I always thought he loved me. I even thought we'd get married one day. But now, I was just a burden. An annoyance. Watching his back disappear into the hotel lobby, I numbly downloaded the app. "What color should I wear to the graduation party?" "Burgundy. It complements your pale skin and hugs your curves perfectly." "I want to change up my jewelry too..." "You have beautiful collarbones. You don't need anything complicated. A minimalist platinum necklace would be perfect." "Where should I go for my solo graduation trip?" "Your private account shows a love for the Mediterranean. Go to the Amalfi Coast. The sun will look good on you." "Okay. I'll listen to you." Wait. Something was wrong. Why would an AI app know about my secret Instagram account?

When my husband from the arranged marriage lost his memory, I couldn't resist messing with him. “Adrian. Say 'Boss.'“ The man in the hospital bed hugged his pillow and looked up at me like a good little boy. “Boss.” I nodded, satisfied. Perfect. A whole year of marriage, and he never once called me his wife. One car crash, and he'd been demoted to calling me Boss. Adrian and I had an arranged marriage. I did it for my family's dying factory. After the wedding he was colder than the fridge. We slept in separate rooms. He wouldn't eat my cooking and wouldn't take my calls. He even saved my number in his phone as “the Bell girl.” I lived in the Crane house more carefully than the hired help. His mother thought I was poor. His aunt thought I was trash. Adrian thought I was an eyesore. Then came the crash. A clot pressing on the nerves in his brain. The doctor said his mind had rolled back to about six years old. I looked at the man in the bed, clutching my sleeve and refusing to let go, and on the inside, I was glowing. Payback. My moment had finally come. I wanted money. I wanted revenge. I wanted a divorce and a clean getaway.

At the werewolf nation’s annual gala, I stood in front of dozens of reporters and said it straight to the cameras: tonight, I was going to sleep with the Alpha King. They thought I was just running my mouth. Nobody took me seriously. Nobody guessed I’d actually do it. The Alpha King had just come back from the front lines, wounded and weak, and I dragged him into a hotel room before anyone could stop me. When his guards and the Werewolf Authority finally broke through the door, I didn’t run. I walked up to them and held out my wrists. “That’s right. I’m the one who took the Alpha King. Cuff me.” Everyone thought I’d lost my mind. They had no idea this was exactly what I wanted. In my previous life, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart Lyra killed the Greenmoor Pack Alpha’s daughter, and I took the fall. Every piece of evidence pointed at me. I couldn’t talk my way out of it. I was exiled. I was tortured to death in the wastelands. My father wasted away after losing me, slipped into depression, and our pack was swallowed up. My parents were dragged to the executioner’s block. My soul stayed with them through all of it. I watched, and I couldn’t do a thing. Just when I thought I’d break, a light flashed, and when I opened my eyes I was back — the day before Lyra committed the murder. This time, I was going to prove my innocence to the whole pack.

At three months pregnant, I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. My husband, a doctor, was overwhelmed with worry, pulling every string he could to arrange surgery and remove the baby. "As long as you're okay, it doesn’t matter if we don’t have our own child. We can always adopt. I can't lose you, Evelyn!" Heartbroken, I blamed myself for being useless, for failing to carry our child, and for disappointing my husband. But then, I accidentally saw his chat messages with another woman on the phone. "Don’t worry, I already told her she had an ectopic pregnancy." "I’ll have her sign the adoption papers soon, then find a way to bring you into our home." "Asher is my only son. I will make sure he inherits everything I have!" That was when I realized that the husband I loved so deeply had long since built another family behind my back.

After Edwin’s first love arrived, I left his home without telling anyone. The first week after I left, he didn't care at all. He spent the week doting on her first love, taking her to social gatherings, making people gossip about me being left. The second week after I left, his friends began placing bets on whether I would come back crawling or scheme against Rose and cry for attention. Edwin heard them making jokes about me, and he actually laughed, keeping Rose on his lap. The third week after I left, he tracked me down and barged into my door. “Stop all this drama, Victoria.” He spat, “Rose’s heart is delicate. Your heart is the right match for her. Donate your heart to her, and I’ll marry you.” But what he expected from me, a long confrontation or an ocean of tears, he didn't get at all. “Okay,” I replied, my voice as calm as the ocean. “When is the surgery’s date?” Edwin froze at his place. What he didn't know was that I was not the Victoria he remembered. I had been transported into his world after an accident, and only by fulfilling his hundred wishes could I finally return to my own. And, this was his hundredth wish!

My Rival Bragged About Her Don Husband, But He Was My Secret Husband I was the heiress of a Mafia family. Since I always kept a low profile, the head cheerleader Selena Hartwell mocked me throughout high school. After graduation, I cut contact with every last classmate and threw myself into family business. Then, just as our family was reestablishing its foothold on the East Coast, an old high school group chat blew up. Selena went crazy tagging me: "Ava Costanzo, I'm getting married — and my husband is a Don! I'm ordering you to come to my wedding!" The wedding photo she posted showed the groom cropped out, but I recognized the cufflinks. The man beside her was Julian Moretti, the second son of the Moretti family, a crew that couldn't even manage two shipping routes without leaning on us.

Five years ago, I was his life and I thought we would be the end game until Rosalin, his new assistant, seeped into our life. It began with urgent late night meetings. Our dinner conversations, once filled with shared secrets and soft laughter, were replaced by the rhythmic tapping of his thumbs against his phone. He stopped looking at me across the table, his gaze permanently fixed on the glowing screen as he replied to her "emergency" texts. When I’d walk into his office, the air would turn brittle. He’d stop talking mid-sentence, Rosalin leaning over his shoulder with a look that wasn't professional. But the breaking point was when he left me waiting for six hours on our anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday. “We got occupied with something, Victoria.” He said, “Rosaline has brought cake for you. It was her birthday as well.” Just then a notification came into my phone. It was Rosaline’s post. She had posted a picture minutes before entering the gala. She was sitting in a seven-star hotel, the one I asked Jayden to book for our Anniversary but he refused after saying it was full. She had been cutting her birthday cake surrounded by red candles’ flames and a pair of hands had cupped hers. Jayden’s hands. He had ghosted our Anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday! That was when I realised, I had no future with this man. I will disappear from his world, taking his child with me.