Cerita Homo Sek Novels & Stories

My husband, Lucio Moretti, Don of the Moretti family, brought in a girl from the slums and put her in charge of the estate. From that day on, every dollar I spent had to be approved by Gianna. I couldn't even decide to buy a single lipstick, or one dress, on my own. Later, my mother-in-law fell down the stairs on the night before her birthday. I called Gianna right away and demanded 200 grand for the medical bills. But she decided I was lying. "Donna, you really made up a story about your own mother dying just so I'd approve you more money?" Then the call ended. Because Gianna refused to approve the money, my mother-in-law died. And Lucio? He was already having the lawyer draft a waiver for

The housekeeper became my stepmother, and together with her son, they humiliated and murdered me. After being reborn, I exposed a video of her affair with her lover at her wedding, destroying her reputation completely. I watched as she and her son were kicked out. They left with nothing, wandering the streets like outcasts. I smiled and tossed a moldy piece of bread into their begging bowl. “This is all you deserve.”

"Sherman...Sherman Colton," I managed to mutter, my voice quivering from a combination of exhaustion and worry. The name surfaced from the depths of my consciousness, unexpected yet purposeful. As I felt my awareness fade, a lingering feeling of unease settled within me. I didn't just say that name in response to a question; it was more like a desperate plea, a fragment of worry for the man whose image and reputation I was afraid I had ruined in the chaotic events that had taken place. As I surrendered to the embrace of unconsciousness, a deep uncertainty gripped my soul, unsure if I would ever wake up to the light of another day. I whispered, "Mr.Colton, I didn't break your trust."

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown.

She had just one job. To fill in her mother’s role at work while her mother's boss, Jordan, searched for a replacement. Filling his head and heart wasn’t part of the bargain.