Filipino Play Script Novels & Stories

"If you really don't love me, then why don't you make a rejection s-speech for me? If you do, I will believe what you just said" Kate looked at Raize after she said those words, thinking she can handle Raize's response to what she said… But still, crystal tears streamed down to her cheeks as Raize gave his speech that was tearing her heart into pieces. "I, Raize Luco of the Black Moonlight pack, reject the mate given to me by the moon goddess Kate Asie of the White Moonlight Pack"

A ring? A thing that is so beautiful to wear... An accessory to your fingers - A jewelry, a simple jewelry. But I did not expect that this simple thing would give me a more complex life. A life I never dreamed of having but just happened to me in an instant. In the blink of an eye, everything changed -

“Say it,” Matteo murmured. “Say what?” “That you hate me.” Ezra swallowed. “I don’t know how.” — Matteo Antonov built an empire on grief. The last word his dying father spoke became the target of his fury. Years later, that name belongs to Ezra Roman, a gifted athlete whose future is bright until Matteo buys his team and dismantles his life piece by piece. Ezra doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. All he knows is that the man ruining him watches with an intensity that feels like hunger. Forced into Matteo’s world, Ezra learns that cruelty and protection can wear the same face. Their battles turn intimate, their silences thrum with something neither of them will name. As secrets unravel, Matteo uncovers a truth that shatters his vengeance, Ezra was never guilty. The real enemy has been hiding in his own bloodline. By the time Matteo is ready to choose love over revenge, the price may be Ezra’s freedom… or his life.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made a special trip to the salon to have my hair done. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account. It was a coloring and perm package. Judging by the price, it was a package meant for waist-length hair. Mine had been cropped short for seven or eight years. I called my husband, Jason Moore. "Have you used my salon membership card recently?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he laughed lightly, "Oh, I lent it to Quincy a few days ago." Quincy Hahn was his business partner, a fine arts student with long hair. She treasured her natural curls more than anything. She would never be willing to dye or perm it. More importantly, her elder sister was a major shareholder of this salon. Why would she ever need to use my card? I said nothing more and ended the call. Then, I headed straight to a location displayed on my phone. In the cafe, a long-haired lady was nestled in Jason's arms. Her freshly permed curls were soft and bouncy, framing her blushed face with certain demureness. Jason had always complained that my short hair made me look rough and manly. I lacked gentleness and charm. It seemed this long-haired lady suited his tastes perfectly.

"I escaped the nightmare, but woke up in a living hell.. " Lyla Harrison is drowning in unsubstantial debt, with a father in a coma and a highschool life that threaten to murder her sanity, Lyla is left with no one to turn too. But when her stepmother suddenly reappears with an offer she can't resist, Lyla heeds to her desperation and takes up the deal. Only to be double crossed once again. Things turn for the worst and she’s sold to Cedric Abernathy, the ruthless and terrifying leader of the Abernathy Mafia Family. Cedric doesn’t just claim her as his wife, but possesses her as his pet. Lyla’s hatred burns, but the more she fights him, the tighter his grip becomes.

Everyone warned me never to fall for Dante Moretti. They said he was the ghost of the Velasco family—an underboss who ordered hits without blinking, his heart colder than the barrel of his gun. But when he bent me over that mahogany desk, his mouth against my ear commanding me to say his name, I was stupid enough to think that was possession. It took me an entire year to see the truth. The photographs locked in his study drawer were never of me. The woman in white waiting for him in the cathedral district on Sunday mornings was never me. The girl who took a bullet for him, the one he called his "salvation"—her name is Elena Abate. And Elena happens to be my stepmother's daughter. My father is trying to sell me to a half-dead Agosti heir for five hundred million to save the family. My stepmother is scheming to erase me from existence entirely. And the man I thought would burn this city to the ground for me? On the day I needed him most, he was lifting Elena up a flight of stairs, cradling her like something sacred. They all thought I was just a pawn to be moved around their chessboard. They were wrong. If Dante can't let go of his precious white moonlight, his "salvation," then I'll become someone else's "widow." If Elena believes she's already won this game, I'll let her watch from the front row as a woman with nothing left to lose burns it all down. My name is Serafina. Remember it. Because I am about to become the reckoning none of them saw coming.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was having a heart attack, and my husband, Ben Dover—a heart surgeon—was the only one who could save her. Did I call him? Nope. I just stood there, watching her gasp like a fish out of water. In my last life, I'd begged Ben to come save her. He brushed me off, accusing me of interrupting his time with his mistress, Ima Schit. No matter how much I pleaded, he wouldn't come. Eleanor had died in the hospital. And when Johnny, my father-in-law, demanded answers, Ben flipped the script, saying I'd never even called. He made Eleanor's death my fault. Johnny, blinded by grief and fury, killed me. But plot twist—I woke up. Right back to the day this circus started.

She doesn't remember getting married. Why? Sophia went to Las Vegas only to drink her pain away. Little did she imagine, she would end up becoming someone's wife. But who’s the lucky guy? Who knows? Even she doesn't remember. She was fucking intoxicated! All she has is a marriage contract with an expiry date and a bank balance big enough to pop her eyes out. Contractual terms: 1. Do not marry anyone else unless I permit you. 2. Try not to whore around. Your mother-in-law wouldn't be happy. 3. If I request a live-in relationship. You have to comply. 4. Sex is optional. 5. Contract Termination? Sorry Honey... In my family, couples don’t divorce. PS: I was kidding. Let's catch-up after three years to end this shit and get more money. If there are rules against having sex while drunk, there should be rules against getting married while drunk too. Because THIS isn't fair!

"You think you have a choice?" Vittorio squeezed my nipples with his hand and my sanity with the other. “ You were never going to be anyone else's from the moment I set eyes on you”. His voice a deadly whisper His words cut through me making my chest tighten with fear "You’re Ours, kitten," he continued, his gaze locking onto mine and stealing the breath from my lungs. "You will be claimed, used, and Fucked however I see fit. Do you understand?" "I... I understand," I whispered, feeling my resistance crumble under his dark, green eyes. "You will lay before me, Katarina," he commanded his voice a low growl. "Spread your swollen pussy wide, and show me how desperate you are for me to fuck you." Katarina Delgado was supposed to belong to another man. Sold like property to Mafia Don Giordano, her virginity was payment for a debt her father couldn't afford. But when her brother Mateo tries to save her and fails, she ends up in the hands of a deadlier monster: Vittorio De Luca, the brutal mafia king who cages her, collars her, and whispers filth like love. Now, locked in a war between cartels, Katarina is the prize. But not just for Vittorio. Valentino De Luca, his missing twin, has returned. Sharper. Slower. Unhinged. And he doesn’t want to steal her. He wants to share her. Together. In a world of cages, kings, and betrayal, the only thing more dangerous than being wanted… is being wanted by both of them.

We were on our way to celebrate our son’s birthday when we got into a car crash. When I woke up, I looked at my family gathered around my hospital bed and cracked a joke: “Sorry, but who are you guys?” I held back a smile, curious to see how they'd humor their "amnesiac" patient. Would my mother grab my hand in a panic? Would my husband look at me with worry? Would my son rush over, crying and calling me Mom? What I didn't expect was for them to freeze for a moment—and then, almost in unison, let out sighs of relief. My mother was the first to speak, her tone unmistakably lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted. "If you don’t remember, it’s probably for the best. This is Lindsay—your sister, she’s my daughter. You were adopted." My husband then pointed at me and said to our son, "You should call her Aunt Wendy." Before the shock could even sink in, I watched the child I'd fought so hard to protect turn and throw himself into the arms of Lindsay. "Mom! I played outside all day. I missed you so much!" So that was the truth. My amnesia was exactly what they'd been hoping for. In that case, I didn't need this made-up life anymore.