Raising Gazorpazorp Novels & Stories

His voice dropped lower. “You saw the news, didn’t you? The little warning on the LED TV?” Her eyes flickered. “…Yes, sir.” “Then why didn’t you turn back?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “And you saw they’ve never shown my face on the news.” He tapped his temple, eyes glinting. “But now you’re staring right at me. You know exactly what I look like. You think I’ll let you walk away?” “No! Please!” Isabella’s voice cracked, tears falling. “I promise with my mother’s grave—I’ll never speak of this! Please, just spare me!” Alessandro smirked, lifting his gun. “People like you swear. People like you also betray. Let’s see…” Her whole body locked. “No, no, please—” The gun fired. Isabella screamed. But when she opened her eyes, the bullet hole smoked in the wooden floor beside her. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook. She collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Alessandro leaned back, laughing softly. Then—something in her snapped. She pushed herself up on trembling legs. “You want to kill me? Then fucking do it!” His brows lifted. “What the fuck is wrong with you gangsters?” she yelled, her voice shaking. “Do I look like someone who can hurt you? You almost made me wet my pants out there with your bullets. Do you think that’s funny?” One of his men growled, stepping forward, hand raised. “How dare you talk to the boss like that—” “Stop,” Alessandro ordered sharply, raising his hand without taking his eyes off her. Isabella’s chest heaved. “You think taking lives is funny?” She beat her chest with her fist. “Fine. I’m going to walk out that door right now. Shoot me if you want.”

On our seventh year anniversary, my girlfriend, Rachel Winters, forces me to drink a glass of drugged champagne before dumping me onto the bed of an 80-year-old widow. "It's Bryon's first time attending a business meeting. He's still pure and oblivious, so he doesn't know how to satisfy an older widow's insatiable desire. "I have no choice but to ask you to seal this business deal on his behalf. Think of this as your way of helping me repay Bryon's family for raising me since young. "Don't worry, Corey. No one will know about this." After that, Rachel turns off the lights and leaves the room while ignoring my pleas for help. But the next day, the video of me and the widow going at it is spread across the Internet. My colleagues look down on me for resorting to such underhanded methods just to get promoted. They can't believe that I'm able to stomach the idea of sleeping with an 80-year-old widow. Thanks to the video, the company's reputation is greatly affected. Rachel holds a press conference immediately to address the issue. I thought she'd defend me, but I didn't expect her to change her tune. "I've already discussed this matter with the Dalton family. Corey Dalton shall take responsibility for what he's done to the widow. As for me, I will get engaged to Bryon Parson." I feel as though lightning has struck me on the spot. I've founded this company with Rachel and has stuck by her side through thick and thin, resulting in us rising as the new-time business moguls. But in the end, she decides to ditch me. "Corey, if you really want to stay by my side, you can remain as my side piece. In exchange, I'll help you shake that old woman off your tail." As I meet Rachel's smug gaze, I shake my head decisively. "I've already thought things through and decided that I'll be marrying the widow."

Six Secrets. One Devastating Truth. Zero Escape. One heartbroken night. One reckless stranger. One decision that changed everything. Three years ago, Sloane Carter walked into a Chicago bar to forget the man who destroyed her. She walked out carrying a secret that would define the rest of her life — six of them, actually. Because the devastatingly handsome stranger she gave herself to that night didn't just break through her walls. He left her with sextuplets she's been raising alone, loving fiercely, and hiding from the world ever since. She never got his name. She never needed to. Until now. When a desperate job search lands Sloane inside PIERCE Tower — Chicago's most powerful corporation — she comes face to face with the one man she never thought she'd see again. Declan Pierce. Billionaire. CEO. Ruthless. Magnetic. And the father of her six children, who have his jaw, his eyes, and absolutely no idea he exists. Now Sloane is trapped — forty-two floors up, steps from his office, dodging his questions, outrunning his memory, and fighting a pull between them that three years and six babies haven't dulled one single degree. Declan Pierce didn't build an empire by missing details. And the more time she spends in his orbit, the more she can feel him circling the truth — patient, dangerous, inevitable. She has one rule: he cannot find out. He has one certainty: he's seen her before. And somewhere between the boardroom power plays, the jealous relatives, and six toddlers who look exactly like their father — the clock is running out on the biggest secret in Chicago. Because Declan Pierce never loses. And he's already decided that Sloane Carter is something he's not willing to let go. The only question is what happens when he finds out why.

My wife, Ula Grove, was best friends with a man named Jordan Loof. On the day we all gathered to celebrate Eira, Jordan’s daughter’s birthday, our own little girl, Faye, made the silly mistake of taking a bite of the cake ahead of time. Ula flew into a rage and locked Faye in the basement. “Why do you have to compete with Eira over everything? You even made her cry on her own birthday! It was just a piece of cake, yet you acted as if you had never seen a cake in your life!” Ula then taped Faye’s mouth shut with adhesive tape. “Stay right here and think about what you’ve done. You’re not coming out until three days have passed.” The basement was pitch dark with no light at all, and there were poisonous spiders, too. Faye would not last half a day in there. I cried and begged Ula to let Faye go, but Ula remained unmoved. “What other tricks are you trying to pull? How many times do I have to tell you that Jordan has it hard enough raising a kid on his own? I asked you to be considerate, but you couldn’t! You and that little monster insist on doubling down on bullying a single-parent family!” I clutched her sleeve and begged her to just let Faye out. I even swore that I would take Faye and vanish from her life. Ula pulled away before kicking me to the floor. Then, she said coldly, “Since you can’t stand to be away from her, then go rot in there with her! I’m sending Jordan and Eira abroad in three days, so you two can stay locked up until there’s no way you can bully them anymore.” After Ula sent Jordan and Eira abroad to enjoy themselves, she finally remembered Faye and me. She picked out gifts and was about to come pick us up when she received a call from her assistant, Alex Quill. “Mr. Elwood and Faye are gone!”

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me to tears before taking me so deep I forgot my own name." Her fingers were still toying with my collar, but her gaze was already distant. "But remember, keep this from Kevin. If he finds out what I've been doing behind his back while pregnant, it will be a disaster." The socialite sisters gathered around them shared knowing chuckles, raising their glasses and promising to keep the secret. The warmth in my veins turned to ice. My fervent passion to welcome a new life was instantly reduced to a pathetic joke. They had all forgotten that I spent my childhood in southern France. I understood every single syllable. I forced myself to remain calm, my face fixed in the perfect smile expected of a blissful husband about to welcome his first child, but the hand holding my champagne glass was trembling. I didn't fly into a rage. I didn't smash everything in sight. Instead, I took out my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days prior for the Aegis Agency, a highly classified organization on the other side of the world, and clicked "Accept." In three days, I would vanish from Blair's world.

We have just finished our classes for the day when Nicholas Wolfe tells me that he's going to a concert with his junior, Madeline Cross. "I'm heading over to the venue right now. I can't let Madeline wait for me, after all." Nicholas sounds so casual, as though he's talking about the weather. I arrange my textbooks neatly before putting them into my bag. "Okay." My response leaves Nicholas stunned. He pauses in the middle of typing a text to Madeline before raising his head to look at me. "Madeline and I are about to watch the concert performed by The Paxleys, your favorite band. Are you… not mad at me at all?" I zip my bag while replying calmly, "Nope." I've begged Nicholas 99 times to watch the concert with me. On the 100th time, he finally buys two tickets… for himself and Madeline. I'm not surprised in the slightest. Ever since Madeline transferred to our university, I've started to get used to Nicholas prioritizing her over me. I sling my bag onto my shoulder and begin making my way to the classroom's exit. Nicholas doesn't move an inch. But when I'm about to leave, he catches up with me and grips my wrist. "Lia, we'll travel to Sorenton three days later. The Paxleys will be holding another concert there. I'll attend that concert with you. "That day is our third-year anniversary, so I definitely won't bail out on you." I look down at Nicholas' hand that's gripping me, then I look up at him. This time, my lips curl into a smile. "Okay." Over the past six months, Nicholas has promised me to do things "next week" nine times, and said "I'll definitely show up" 13 times, and "don't worry" 16 times. But he's bailed out on me every single time he makes plans with me. Next week, we won't be attending the concert together, that's for sure. After all, I'm the one bailing on him this time.

There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure. However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead. One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair them off." Just like that, Iver and I signed the marriage papers. Our married life consisted of maxing out my second brother's credit cards, raiding my older brother's dinner table, and waiting for his sisters to show up with care packages. That was the routine, until my older brother sent us to attend a banquet at the Crestport tycoon's estate in his place. At the banquet, the tycoon's daughter, Portia Beaumont, waved around a blurry photo taken from behind and insisted I was the other woman who had stolen her boyfriend. I kept my temper. "You have the wrong person. I'm married, and this is my husband." Portia lost it on the spot and swung at me. "Married and still out here throwing yourself at men?" Iver stepped in front of me on instinct and took the slap meant for me. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. She sneered, "Oh, is he slow? His wife's out cheating and he can't even tell, but he still jumps in to protect her? One's a tramp, and the other's an idiot. The perfect match!" She flicked her wrist, and several bodyguards lunged toward us. "Get them both." My heart ached as I looked at Iver, and I dialed my older brother's number. "Someone's picking on me." These people had no idea. Crossing the four terrors of Kingsgate and living to tell about it was one thing. Messing with the two of us was something else entirely.

My mother, Eleanor Thorne, dropped out of school at a young age to work, single-handedly raising my uncle, Logan Thorne, all on her own. Because of that bond, right before she passed away from a severe illness, she tightly held Logan’s hand and entrusted me to his care, begging him to look after me. With bloodshot eyes, Uncle Logan swore right beside her hospital bed that he would never let a single soul lay a finger on me for the rest of his life. When I was seven years old, my biological father, Richard Jennings, was preparing to remarry, and he muttered a cruel comment under his breath, calling me a piece of useless baggage. The next second, Logan smashed a glass bottle right over his head. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to my little girl like that?" he roared. "Keep running your mouth, and I will personally ruin you!" Before his head wounds could even fully heal, Richard literally checked himself out of the hospital and fled the city, never daring to show his face around us again. During my high school years, a boy cornered me on the way home to force a love letter into my hands, which completely terrified me. Logan flew into an absolute rage. That very afternoon, he brought a crew and broke the boy's leg. That act invited a violent retaliation. Logan was targeted in a brutal hit-and-run and left for dead on the asphalt. He spent three grueling days fighting for his life in the ICU before the doctors finally pulled him back from the brink. Yet, the exact moment he was discharged from the hospital, he tracked that student down again and beat him within an inch of his life. I was utterly horrified. Desperate to prevent my uncle from hurting anyone else on my account, I, Maisie Thorne, secretly applied to a university overseas without telling him, leaving the country for three long years. On the eve of Logan’s wedding, he personally flew out on a private jet to pick me up and bring me back home. That night, we sat down to have a quiet dinner together. But the night took a twisted turn when his fiancée mistook me for a hidden mistress. "So, you're the little obsession my husband can't seem to stop thinking about," Victoria Vane sneered, glaring at me. "I’ve heard all about the mysterious girl locked away in his private thoughts. Let's see how much sleeping around you can do once I strip that pretty little face right off your head, Maisie Thorne!"

Sheila Jenkins was hit by a truck on the fifth anniversary of her wedding. The accident was devastating. Her legs were crushed beneath the vehicle, which rolled over them before finally coming to a stop. Her husband, Joshua Stewart, the man who had been her childhood sweetheart, was so frantic that he gave more than half the blood his body could safely spare, begging the doctors to save her life. When Sheila was finally wheeled out of the operating room, she had not even had the chance to thank him for everything he had done. Still drifting in and out of consciousness, she suddenly overheard a conversation between Joshua and his assistant. "Mr. Stewart, there's still time to save her legs. If the surgeons operate now, they can still treat the damage. Are you really going to give up and let Mrs. Stewart spend the rest of her life crippled?" Joshua's expression remained icy, and his voice was even colder. "I hired someone to hit her for that exact reason. The whole point was to make sure she ended up crippled." His assistant froze. "The only woman I have ever loved is Cecilia. If the Stewart family had not refused to accept her back then, and even threatened her life to force us apart, I never would have buried my feelings and pursued and married Sheila simply because she was the 'right' match. My greatest regret is that I could never give the woman I truly love the title of being my wife. Since I cannot give her my name, I will at least give her the wedding she deserves." He paused before continuing without a trace of emotion. "If Sheila finds out I'm holding a wedding for Cecilia, she'll definitely try to ruin it. This way, she'll be stuck at home, crippled and completely unaware of what's happening." Unable to stay silent any longer, the assistant let out a quiet sigh. "Mr. Stewart, I know the woman you love is Ms. Zeller. I just... don't think Mrs. Stewart deserves this. She hasn't done anything wrong. She has no idea your heart has always belonged to someone else. She doesn't even know that the baby she gave birth to was strangled to death by your own hands... and that the child she's been raising all these years is actually yours and Ms. Zeller's. That's already cruel enough. If she loses her legs too..." Before he could finish, Joshua cut him off, speaking with icy indifference. "What does her suffering have to do with me? The only person I care about is Cecilia. "From my perspective, even if Sheila loses both her legs and her own child... her suffering still isn’t worth a single one of Cecilia’s tears."