Lazy Town Stephanie Died Novels & Stories

The night before my wedding, my best friend flew back from overseas to attend my bachelor party. We were just having a few drinks when his stomach started acting up, so I quickly reached into his bag for his medication. Instead of pills, I found a naughty remote control. I grinned mischievously and waved a hand toward him. “Didn’t know you were getting this wild overseas, man.” He smiled awkwardly and told me to just hand him the medicine and not to touch anything else. Alas, his reaction made me even more curious. So I purposely pressed on one of the buttons. The next second, my fiancee, who was sitting right next to us, shuddered.

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

Multiple Reincarnations and finally awakening again to just have fun. How will Ren and the Reap System do things this time? With little care in the world besides seeing new things, things go pretty easy. Corpses mounting up mean nothing if they never have any real value. But the thing about relaxing, duty and Promises will always change things up. Good thing Ren can change his attitude if he needs to. With the Reap System bringing in Quest like crazy to shape Ren back up, it will not take long for things to turn back on course. To many things from his previous Reincarnations have found there way to the World.

The healer told me I had Soul Decay Syndrome. In three days, I'd be dead. The only thing that could save me was water from the Sacred Spring. But my Alpha mate, Vincent, gave it to my adopted sister, Fiona. So, during the final 72 hours of my life, I gave up everything. When I handed Fiona the perfume formulas I'd spent years developing, my parents smiled in satisfaction. When I gave up the couples' vacation package I'd won and let Vincent take Fiona to see the Northern Lights instead, he praised me for finally being mature. When I taught my daughter to call Fiona "Mom", she didn't hesitate. She turned to me without a second thought and called me "Aunt." To my family, all my sacrifices were only natural. "Fiona is a frail human. Her lifespan is much shorter." "We'll love you properly later. We'll make it up to you." I let out a mocking laugh. There was no later for me. I'd never live long enough to receive their love. And after I died, they lost their minds with regret.

I watched Ryan die. So how is Ben wearing his face? Six years ago, I watched my best friend--and secret crush--splatter all over the pavement. He died. I saw him. Yet, in the back of my mind, I've never stopped looking for him. Seeing him in crowds, in the classroom, in my dreams--and my nightmares. It's cost me everything--my identity, my sanity, and maybe my life. So when I walk into class to see a man who looks exactly like Ryan standing before me, I freak out again. My therapist tells me to stay away from Ben. He's no good for me. I'll end up back in a padded room. But I have to know the truth. Is Ben really Ryan? That's not possible. But Ben has scars--real ones and metaphorical ones. If Ben is Ryan, why doesn't he just tell me? Is he trying to drive me crazy? Or worse--is he trying to kill me? The Boy Who Died is the first romantic suspense novel from bestselling romantacy author Bella Moondragon writing as B. Moon. If you love romantic suspense, are a fan of Colleen Hoover, Gillian Flynn, Christopher Greyson, or Paula Hawkins, you won't want to miss this page-turner!

When my son suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night, I rushed him to the hospital where my wife worked. Instead of taking charge herself, she handed the operation to an intern. "New doctors need opportunities to learn. I'll be right there supervising. Nothing will happen." But before the surgery even began, a phone call pulled her away, leaving a trembling Marvin Vance alone in the operating room. My son never made it off the operating table. I collapsed in the hallway, sobbing in grief. Yet I overheard my wife gently comforting Marvin. "For your first surgery, you held on this long. You've done an amazing job, my little cinnamon roll." Awkwardly copying trendy slang younger people used online, she reassured him with endless patience. Then she turned to me with a cold expression and demanded that I sign a letter forgiving Marvin. "He has his whole future ahead of him. You can't destroy his life." I tore the document to pieces and threatened to call the police and expose what had happened. In response, she arranged for a medical donation and had my son's body dissected that very night. Driven insane by grief, I threw myself from a building while clutching my son's ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my son's surgery. This time, I immediately contacted my parents and transferred him to another hospital. But that night, they still dissected a child.

In my previous life, my husband suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and died instantly in his office. When I arrived at the hospital, all that awaited me was his lifeless body. Overwhelmed with grief, I coughed up blood and was bedridden ever since. On my deathbed, I happened to see a news report—my husband had won a $15 million lottery. Standing beside him at the prize ceremony was none other than my best friend. The shock killed me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband had just died.

When Joy Staton, my adoptive sister, fainted in the freezer on her birthday, William Staton, my brother, checked on the security footage in rage. The moment he saw that I was the one who took Joy into the freezer, he kicked me inside without hesitation. Before shutting the door, he stared at me in disgust. “You’ve been pushing your luck a lot these days, huh? If I’d been a second too late, Joy would’ve died!” I wanted to defend myself, but William refused to listen and slammed the door shut. I heard him talking to the bodyguards outside. “If she doesn’t apologize, don’t let her out!” But he did not know that Joy had set the freezer to –58 °F. I did not even have the strength to complain about the freezer being cold. William did not know that the sister he once loved dearly had stopped breathing in the freezer. He had killed his only blood relative left in the world.

One week had slipped by since I last begged Christopher Lutherson to take up that case, and that caught his attention. The silence led him to believe that my pride was finally crushed. His arrogance drove the texts that came next. "You're coming to the celebration party tonight. Do as I say, and I'll consider taking your father's case. This is your last chance. Don't try to guilt-trip me with your childish notion of unfairness." My phone screen lit up, but I showed no reaction. I simply signed the divorce papers. For five years of marriage, all I had ever known was humiliation. I endured every disgrace, every torment, just to beg the legendary lawyer Christopher to save my father, who had been framed. He knew my father was innocent, yet he made sure the most crucial evidence didn't see the light of court, all to please his first love. He did nothing but stand by while my father was tormented. My father succumbed to the inferno they called prison. Seven days ago, he took his own life to prove his innocence. I only stayed with Christopher for five agonizing years so my father would have his name cleared and be released from prison. Christopher never knew that. The legendary lawyer had won countless cases, but in the end, he made me lose the only person I had left in this world. My father was dead. It was time for me to leave.

The night before my wedding, my mom got into a car accident—she needed a blood transfusion, fast. Her blood type was rare. Mine matched. I was pregnant, but I didn't think twice. I donated. While I was bleeding out, losing my baby, my fiancé, Joffrey Habsburg, and his brother—my so-called childhood friend—Mateo, were busy holding Nancy's hand during her cosmetic surgery. I begged Joffrey to save my mom. Only then did he bother to pick up a scalpel. When it was over, he said, "Surgery failed. She's gone." Two days later, I overheard Nancy purring through the door, wrapped around the Habsburg brothers. "Mateo really is a racer—he hit that old hag dead on. And Joffrey? You were amazing too, making sure she didn't survive the surgery. Thanks to you both, I got Lori's blood for my operation."