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The day before my wedding, I went to the beauty salon for a skincare treatment. After the session, I handed over my membership card at the front desk to pay as usual. But the moment I glanced at the receipt, I frowned. "The balance is wrong. "I topped up this card with 100,000 dollars just last month. I've only used it once. How is there only 2,000 left?" Without missing a beat, the receptionist pulled up the transaction history and turned the monitor toward me. "Why don't you take a closer look yourself? "Your mother comes in three times a week using this card. Last time, she even bought one of our premium luxury skincare gift sets for 60,000 dollars. "The money on the card doesn't magically replenish itself. Of course it's gone." I stared at the endless list of transactions on the screen and stopped arguing with her. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. "Hello, I'd like to report fraud. Someone has been using my card without permission. The amount involved exceeds 80,000 dollars."

La' Frost institute is a premium skating academy known for its peak skaters from high standard backgrounds, Arianne Johnsons who has envied the La' Frost skaters since she came second place in the nationals skating competition, here is sacrifices and money but yet she couldn't make it to the international competitions, then one day on her way to watch the competition live in her best friend house, something terrible happens she meets the almighty Valerie Stones, all time champion on the ice and most of all her lookalike, crying, hurt on her legs and looking like she just escaped something or someone she refuses to go back and Arianna takes her home with her, tomorrow morning she goes to check on her and finds Valerie dead after overdosing herself, she's shocked, scared but quickly a decision is made in minutes as she dials 911 and a decision is made that day Arianna dies and Valerie returns to the academy healthy, and once again she becomes a star dominating the season and being untouchable in all categories the years pass and then there's a twist she gets a text from an unknown number saying "I KNOW YOUR SECRET, ARIANNA"

My wedding starts at 12:00 pm on the dot. There are 58 tables, each table costing 8888 dollars. 120 bottles of premium liquor have been opened. 300 packs of top-tier cigarettes are unsealed. At 2:30 pm, all the guests have left the scene, leaving nothing but a huge mess behind. That's when a server hands me the bill. "It'll be 510 thousand dollars, miss." I'm left gobsmacked. "I'm a wedding guest, not the organizer." The groom is Charlie Humboldt, my ex-boyfriend. At the moment, he takes his pregnant bride, Sasha Fitch, by the hand while sneering at me. "Since you're here, you might as well foot the bill. Think of it as your way of compensating for my youth." Charlie's mother, Melissa Carlton, moves to block the door. "If you're not paying the bill, then you can forget about leaving. No one wants you anyway, so you might as well stay here and pay off your debt by working as a dishwasher!" As I stare at the shameless family, I dig out my phone quietly. What they don't know is that this five-star hotel is a gift from my dad to me.

On a public holiday, I took Henry's mom, Johanna, to a new salon at Vanderbilt Court for a makeover. Halfway through, she suddenly cried out. I rushed over—burnt smell hit me hard. I yanked the machine off her head. Too late. Her hair was fried. Blisters spread across her scalp. I called the salon manager. She barely looked at us, lips curling. "What a hassle. If you can't afford luxury, don't pretend. I won't charge you. Now get out." I pointed at her. "You burned my mother-in-law. You're paying for her treatment and taking her to the hospital. Or I report this." Her brows shot up. Hands on her hips. "Oh, so now you're faking injuries for money? You even broke our premium equipment. You owe me a hundred grand today. And just so you know—this whole mall? My husband owns it. Pay up, or I'll make you." My heart stuttered. Vanderbilt Court... Johanna had just bought it and handed it to Henry. And he really had a side chick right under our noses.

Dominic Langdon, a gang boss, is about to host his birthday banquet soon. He specifically tells everyone that he wants bluefin tuna and premium abalone as the grandest dish in his banquet. That seafood comes to a total of 80 thousand dollars. But my uncle, Steve Cutterson, gives me 800 dollars and tells me to carry out the task. I head toward the garbage dump of the farmers' market immediately. Soon, I return with a cartload of canned sardines and crayfish. After calculating the transportation costs, it comes to a total of 800 dollars. When the cheap-looking seafood is served, Dominic is so pissed that he flips the table on the spot. "How dare you pocket my money! You must have a death wish!" Steve quickly makes me the scapegoat. "Mr. Langdon, Caleb is the one who bought the seafood! He must have embezzled your money! Caleb, you'd better grovel to Mr. Langdon and pay him back right now!" I just show everyone the magnified version of the transfer record of 800 dollars with a stony expression. "Take a good look, Uncle Steve. Do you really think you can afford bluefin tuna with just 800 dollars? Did Mr. Langdon give you the money purely out of charity purposes?"

At the Blood Oath ceremony, right as my mate Alistair leaned in to kiss me, a voice suddenly echoed in my mind. [Sex with Gene is electric. Fucking Carys is like fucking a corpse.] It was Alistair's voice. I stared at him in shock, only to find him still smiling at me without missing a beat. Gene was a newborn vampire, recently turned. She was Alistair's subordinate in the North American Vampire Council. Right now, she was clinging to her new boyfriend Silas, a low-level vamp. A second later, Gene's voice rang in my head too. [Silas, that filthy thin-blood, can't even afford a simple moonstone charm. He's good for fetching things and not much else. Once I dump him, I'm going to be Alistair's true mate.] Then came the conflicted voice of the "thin-blood" she was talking about: [The Progenitor's trial is almost over. How do I tell Gene I'm about to be crowned the Prince of the oldest vampire clan?] How amusing. I had unexpectedly awakened the gift of telepathy. Even more surprising: My fiancé got his Council seat because of me. Now, everyone treats him like a king. While the true Vampire Prince was being treated like trash. Holding my goblet of premium vintage blood, I gracefully walked toward the thin-blood.

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.

(A/N: Hello sweety, I want to inform you and assure you that this book is certainly the erotica book you are looking for. This book is all about the thrilling sex life of a youngster, which is very erotic, steamy, and has a touch of dark relationship and dark romance (BDSM). (Do enjoy reading!) Snow POV I stare at the naked figure besides me in amusement. I still can't believe that this man is the one making me moan crazily like a mad woman. His dirty words, his touch, the things he does to me, and the things he makes me do, felt really crazy but enjoyable. My life has become engulfed by him, making me madly obsessed and addicted to him. If I don't see him, I will feel uncomfortable and sad. He has become a vital part of my life, my breath, and everything! He makes me feel so good; he makes me feel like a real woman. He is the only one who can send me to hell in heaven and drag me back. The rate at which he handles my body when it tangles in his, the sexual chemistry, the burning pleasurable desire, and the way my body writhes in his addictive touch make me go lustfully crazy. I don't know if such feelings ever existed before! My mother never mentioned this to me; she even barely spared time to teach me sex education. But here I am, having a bonus, a premium of the real thing, and the unfortunate part is that he is my coach! A 30-year-old married man! While I'm just a 19-year-old trainee of his!

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

My younger brother had opened a high-end beauty salon, so I took my mother there for a facial. We picked the most expensive package, but the moment the mask was applied, Mom's face began to burn. When we peeled it off, her entire face was covered in rashes. I called for the director, but she looked impatient. "Oh, that's just a normal detox reaction." I was stunned. "Her face is practically ruined! What products are you even using?" "Ruined?" She flared up like someone had stepped on her tail. "Your mom's skin is just too bad to handle premium nutrients! Once our products are opened, they're non-refundable—got it?" I pointed to the brochure. "It says right here—'gentle and non-irritating, full refund if any adverse reaction occurs.' Is this how Stellan Fallow taught you to run a business?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin high. "I am the boss! You and your mother look broke as hell—clearly here to mooch a free treatment. Now that it didn't work, you're trying to scam us for money? "Let me tell you something—this set costs 38 thousand, and with my emotional damages and lost wages, that's a total of 100 thousand. If you don't pay up today, I'll have the police take you both in!" A hundred thousand for a product that ruined someone's face? It was no wonder Stellan suddenly wanted to open a salon—it turned out he and his girlfriend were running a scam together! I was about to call Stellan, but before I could, she hit the video dial first. "Bubby, get over here—two broke idiots tried to freeload a treatment and now they're trying to shake us down for money!"