Bubbles Loves Boomer Mga Nobela at Kwento

After his first love died, Oscar hated me for ten years. I tried everything to soften him. Nothing worked. "If you really want to please me, go die." The words cut deep. But when the riot came, he threw himself in front of me and was hacked down where he stood. He stared at me as he bled out. "If only… my fated mate hadn't been you." At his funeral, his parents wept. "We should have let him be with Catherine. We forced him to marry her, all because of that damn prophecy." Windvale Pack lived by prophecy. Years ago, the Seer had foretold that if Oscar didn't take his fated mate as his bond-mate, disaster would fall on the pack. I was that fated mate. But now, everyone wished I never had been. Even me. I was driven from the funeral, hollow. Then the Moon Goddess descended. She offered me a chance—ten years back—on two conditions. I would not become Oscar's mate. I would prevent Catherine's death. I said yes without thinking.

Everyone in Phantom Pack knew their Alpha, Riven Drake, was devoted to me — completely and without question. No matter how slammed he was, he always called to check in, right on time, every time. But the night before our marking ceremony, he vanished. No call, no word, nothing. I lost all sense of him through our mate bond, and my gut told me he was in danger. I was ready to drop everything and go find him — body wrecked as I was — when he finally walked through the door. He came in holding a woman who reeked of him, barely able to stand, and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Natasha, Helen got hurt saving my life. I can't just let her die." To atone for his sins before me, he stabbed himself with a silver dagger. Then, not even an hour after our marking ceremony ended, I heard his Beta laughing with him: "Alpha, that aphrodisiac must've been something else. Helen looked like she was about to pass out." Riven's voice had a satisfied edge to it. "Yeah, I'll have to go easier next time. Don't want her cutting me off." "Anyway — my little troublemaker's calling." It hit me like a punch to the chest. I picked up my phone and called my brother. "Cole. I want to come home to Starlight Pack. Can you send someone in five days?" He sounded surprised, then happy. "Of course. I'll have someone there in five days." Five days. I was giving myself five days. Giving Riven five days. He thought I was just another werewolf. Thought he had me completely figured out. He had no idea I was something else entirely — a descendant of the Dragon Clan, something out of legend. I was never his to control.

The year I turned sixteen, the water supply of Moonlight Pack was contaminated. A desperate, burning thirst spread through every household. Owen was the one who found me half-dead and carried me home. His parents didn't just open their door to me. They shared what little water and food they had left. Everyone said it was because we were fated mates, destined to be together. But anyone could see the truth. His family loved me from the bottom of their hearts. The year I turned twenty, Owen asked me to be his mate. He gave me a silver dagger he'd forged with his own hands. He said that when he wasn't by my side, this dagger would protect me in his place. That very night, I used it to kill everyone in his family.

Growing up, my mother always told me — choose your fated mate. Otherwise, you'll end up betrayed. But I was convinced Lennox was different. After all, he was willing to give up his position as Alpha for me. So I gave up my own fated mate for him. I even nearly died saving his life, and the injuries left my wolf permanently dormant. But barely two years later, rumors about him and an Omega named Alice were everywhere. And because my wolf was dormant, I couldn't sense a thing. I didn't find out he'd broken our vows until Alice showed up at my door with a pregnancy test. The whole Stonebrook Pack was laughing behind my back. Lennox dropped to his knees, eyes red and swollen. "I'm sorry. I was drunk that night. I'll make her end the pregnancy. I swear." I looked down at our one-year-old son in my arms. I nodded and forgave him — that one time. After that, he behaved. He was attentive, affectionate, doting — until one day, five years later, when I was at the gym. A young woman on the machine beside me was whining. "Everything down there gets so loose after having a baby. I really need to tighten things up." I didn't bother looking at her face. I let out a quiet laugh and started to leave. Then her phone rang. She answered, her voice coy and flirtatious. "So, Alpha Lennox — when are you finally going to end things with that woman? She's old, and she's lost her wolf. Can she even satisfy you?" "Of course not. I miss you so much, baby." I froze mid-step at the sound of his voice.

On Valentine's Day, I paid in full for a sports car and gave it to my wife as a gift. But when my wife arrived at the private dining restaurant, she brought her parents—and her childhood sweetheart—along with her. The moment my mother-in-law saw it, she slammed her hand on the table, furious. "Tyler, do you have so much money that it's burning a hole in your pocket? Is all this really necessary just for a meal? "Megan pinches every penny at home, and here you are throwing money around outside—just to show off?" Embarrassed, I tried to explain that this was simply a token of my love for Megan. My father-in-law, however, kept a stern face. "No matter how expensive the car is, it's still going to get stuck in traffic during rush hour! It's not even as useful as the electric scooter Brandon gave her. If you ask me, you didn't put any real thought into this. "Oh, right. I heard the salesperson who sold you the car was introduced by Brandon. How exactly are you planning to repay that favor? No matter how busy you are with work, you can't just push everything onto Brandon to handle for you." I could hear the hidden meaning behind his words. So that was what this was really about. They were still holding a grudge because a week ago, when my father-in-law had twisted his back, I hadn't gone to the hospital to visit him. But at the time, I had been busy cleaning up the mess Brandon Hayes had caused for the company. I'd even kept him out of prison. Yet, instead of gratitude, they were turning the blame on me. After a long silence, my wife finally looked at me. "Tyler, transfer ten percent of the company's shares to Brandon as repayment." "And if I don't?" My father-in-law barked angrily, "Then I'll have Megan divorce you!" I laughed. Then I calmly pulled a divorce agreement from my pocket and placed it on the table. "Go ahead," I said. "Sign it."

I have a premature rupture of the membrane when I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I have no choice but to undergo an emergency C-section. To my surprise and dismay, the anesthesiologist is my ex-boyfriend, with whom I broke up eight months ago. God, save me! Could I please have another anesthesiologist? It's my ex-boyfriend's child I'm giving birth to, and I suddenly don't want to bring the child into the world anymore!

On Christmas Eve, our three-year-old daughter, Noelle Gilder, who has cancer, takes a turn for the worse. All she wants is for her mother, Ivana Lance, to dress as Santarina and bring her a gift. I frantically call Ivana, but she impatiently yells into the phone, saying, "Why are you calling me nonstop? I am helping Charles look for Bubbles! Do you really have to make a scene over this? If Bubbles is gone, Charles will be so heartbroken that he will not be able to sleep for days!" Bubbles? So she was looking for the dog of her first love, Charles Larsson! Suppressing my anger, I tell her that Noelle might not survive the night. She laughs disbelievingly, "Mr. Gilder, do not think for a second that I'm not aware that you've spoiled Noelle rotten! If she had not suddenly kicked Bubbles, he would not have run away. Make Noelle apologize to Charles tomorrow." After hanging up, I accompany Noelle as she spends her final Christmas Eve with tears in my eyes. The next day, Ivana publishes a post on Instagram, still looking for the dog. Meanwhile, my post is Noelle's obituary. Ten years of marriage melt away into nothingness like snow.

When my wife's lover changed the locks on our house for the ninth time and locked us out again, there was finally a hint of irritation on her face. I, on the other hand, calmly reassured her. "He's young. He doesn't know any better. Don't get worked up over it." Yvonne Fisher, who was about to break the lock open, froze mid-swing and turned to stare at me. "Aren't you angry?" I was at a loss for words. Throughout our five years of marriage, things like this had happened so often that if I'd kept getting angry, I would've died from it by now. Besides, my own lover was just as much of a handful. All I felt for Yvonne was sympathy.

After catching Gideon Hawthorne cheating on me for the 99th time, he decides to sleep with the fake heiress, Helena Fairchild, just to get back at me. When I catch him and Helena together in bed together red-handed, instead of feeling guilty for what he's done, he just grins at me maliciously. "Ophelia, your sister feels a lot tighter than you." In my previous life, when I heard Gideon's comment, I broke down on the spot and started kicking up a huge ruckus over the matter. I even spread intimate, racy photos of Gideon and Helena all over the world on the Internet. Unable to endure my lunatic tendencies anymore, Gideon chose to divorce me. As for my parents, they completely gave up on me and cast me out of the family. I thought things would be better for me, and yet reality taught me otherwise. I practically had to raise myself in the countryside for the past 18 years. Even if I got reunited with my biological family, I still had no survival skills to fall back on. On top of that, the Hawthornes kept exacting revenge on me, causing me to starve all the time. A few years later, I died from cancer. As for Helena, she ended up marrying Gideon and became a rich aristocrat in the upper crust. To think that I, the ex-wife, was reduced to everyone's laughingstock at the end of the day… When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Gideon and Helena have slept together.

I overslept by six hours on my wedding day. By the time I got there, my fiancée, Yvonne Burke, had already gone through the entire ceremony with her ex, Tony Cooke. I stood there, drenched in sweat. Yvonne just smiled and came clean. "I was the one who drugged you. Tony wanted a wedding ceremony. It's not a big deal, so I gave him one." Like she was afraid I'd make a scene, she added, "Be good. Next week, I'll get the marriage certification with you. Besides, throwing a fit now won't change anything. Look—even if he takes off the suit, it still won't fit you." My eyes landed on the groom. The suit he was wearing was the one I'd spent nearly six months picking out. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to lose it. Instead, I felt a wave of relief. She should've told me sooner. I'd already been having second thoughts. My ex once said that if I ever dared get married, she'd show up in a wedding dress and steal me away. Looks like everything worked out perfectly. We both got what we wanted.