The Devil Was An Angel Too Mga Nobela at Kwento

Elena sought the knowledge that would tell her truth. But when she uncovered that mystery, how she loved to turn back time and pretend she never had sought it in the first place. What if she had to give up that power that gave her self-meaning and purpose so that she could fulfill her destiny? Was power and self-identity enough to find true happiness?

Blurb A secret baby. A billionaire ex. A Love she swore she would never touch again. Annie's life was already in ruins—shattered by betrayal, rebuilt by pain, held together by sheer will. But just when she finally starts breathing again, the past she buried began to rise. Because someone dangerously close… someone she should have walked away from… is about to step right back into her path. And this time, the storm he brings might be the one she can't survive.

In my third year of running a flower shop to support my boyfriend, he went bankrupt again. The first time he went bankrupt, I sold the house my grandmother left me and paid off $700,000 for him. The second time, I dug out the savings account my mother had left me as my wedding fund and paid off another $1.6 million. The third time, I looked at the lost, empty look in his eyes and held the number of my billionaire father, the man I had long since considered dead to me, wondering whether I should call him. But that night, I accidentally saw the messages in a small group chat on his tablet. "Mr. Hart, how much should we put on the repayment contract for this bankruptcy?" "Make it $10 million. Otherwise that flower-shop girl will pay it all off in one go again, and where's the fun in that?" "Mr. Hart really knows how to play. I heard that flower-shop girl tends flowers by day and tends to you by night. No wonder you never get tired of her." I put down his tablet and called my billionaire father. "Isn't this what you wanted? To force me to inherit the family business and marry your protege? Fine. I'll marry him. "Have somebody come pick me up in three days."

When I was five, Mom and Dad took my little brother to the city for kindergarten and left me in a mountain village with my grandfather, who had dementia. Before they left, Dad told me to take care of Grandpa, watch the house, and protect the yard. Mom said I was the older brother, so I had to be sensible. They said that once they made enough money, they'd bring me to the city too. I didn't want to let go. I clung to Mom's leg and begged through tears, "Mom, please. I don't want to be separated from you." My tears and snot smeared across her expensive dress. She scolded me for being difficult, slapped my bottom until it swelled, and struck my face hard enough to break the skin. In the end, they didn't soften. They left and never came back. Three months later, when I was close to starving, I called Mom and begged her to send me something to eat. She snapped, irritated, "A boy who talks about being hungry every day? Why don't you just starve, then? How can there be nothing to eat in the countryside? "Your father and I are under so much pressure in the city. Can't you be sensible for once?" Her words came true. That winter, I starved to death. Five years later, Mom pushed open the rotten door. "Miles," she called. "Mom's back."

For eight years in a marriage devoid of light, I had abortions five times. Every time, Sam would grip my hand when I woke up, his eyes red, and promise to find the best doctors to help me recover. After the third miscarriage, he finally hired a team of top-tier nutritionists, ensuring that every single meal was planned perfectly. He always comforted me, "Don't worry, Penny. We're still young, so we can have another baby!" When I found out I was pregnant again, snowflakes were dancing outside my window. I wrapped my fur coat tightly around my body and rushed to the company, only to hear Wren's furious voice outside the VIP suite, "Are you insane? Those five babies were your own flesh and blood!" Sam replied coldly, "Nicole needs specimen for her experiments. All I'm doing is providing her with the materials she needs." His words dug into my heart like icy spikes, and I could even hear my own bones cracking. "As for Penelope…" He chuckled. "Do you think that our marriage certificate is the real deal?" Snowflakes stung my face like needles, and I finally found out the truth about our marriage. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a living test subject for the woman he truly loved. Sam was right. Those unborn children never even had legal identities, and were worth less than a piece of paper, just like my so-called marriage. Glass shattered from inside the room, and I could hear Wren cursing, but I turned and walked towards the elevator. Since Sam's priority was Nicole and nothing else, I was hell-bent on making him pay the price.

Seven years after I disappeared, my sister found my name on the organ donor registry. She stood in the transplant center, staring at the paperwork in the nurse's hands. Her brows knit as she looked at the photo attached to the file, along with the name I used to go by. "Where is he?" she asked. "He's in hospice on the twelfth floor," the nurse answered quietly. "Today is the last day he'll still be conscious. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning." Her expression turned cold as she headed upstairs. The moment she pushed open the door, she saw me sitting on the bed, writing my final letter. "Landon." I looked up at her and smiled faintly. "You must have the wrong person, Ms. Bennett. My name is Jay Mercer. Not Landon Bennett." She stepped toward the bed, her tone rigid. "Come home. Apologize to Mason, and I'll hire the best specialists in the country for you—" "That won't be necessary." I didn't even look up again as I signed the last line of the organ donation papers. "I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not apologizing to anyone."

On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Don James Colombo, left me at the altar again. "Angelina is in the ICU," he said. "The ceremony will have to wait." It was the ninth time he had abandoned me for his terminally ill childhood sweetheart. The first time, she had run away from home, and he could not rest easy. "Angelina is missing, yet you want me to stand here toasting at the wedding? Don't be so selfish, Leticia." The third time, he said Angelina was in a terrible state and threatening to take her own life — he had to go comfort her. By the eighth time, James had stopped explaining and simply had the butler notify me the wedding was off. For him, postponing a wedding was nothing. For me, the Buono Principessa left standing in a chapel, it meant ridicule and one hundred lashes from my furious father. The lashes split open my skin and left me running a fever that would not break. James would hold me afterward, apologize helplessly, and promise he would make it up to me after we married. He promised nine times. He kept none of them. So when he left me again for Angelina, I did not cry or make a scene. I packed my bags alone and in silence. It would be the last time he ever postponed our wedding. One month later, he would never be able to find me again.

Six years ago, I was accused of kidnapping Fiona Carter’s adopted younger brother, Ryker Carter. The kidnapper insisted I was behind it. I begged Fiona for help, but she looked at me with pure disgust. "Xavier, you broke Ryker’s leg. This is the punishment you deserve!" Six years later, Fiona came to the prison to take me home, only to be handed a death certificate. She refused to believe it. "Xavier, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I’ll find you!" Later, she knelt in front of my grave and personally severed Ryker’s tendons.

Candice had witnessed Kyle’s deep affection—and suffered his betrayal. She endured in silence, tricking him into signing the divorce papers. When the 30-day cooling-off period ended, she calmly informed him, “Kyle, I don’t want you anymore. Get out of my life.” Kyle was stunned as if struck by lightning. His eyes reddened in panic. He tore the agreement to shreds. “Who said we’re getting divorced? I don’t agree!” Charlie Clemens was a powerful tycoon, a man beyond reach. She didn’t want to get involved with him, yet fate kept bringing them together. At a banquet, tipsy and reckless, she accidentally tugged on his tie. He leaned down, his voice low and teasing by her ear: “Your ex-husband is watching. You sure you want to be this... bold?”

Emilka Winchester is the envy of Seattle. To the outside world, she is Mrs. Perfect—the beautiful, devoted wife of a powerful man, living a life of marble counters, designer dresses, and carefully curated happiness. But behind closed doors, the silence is deafening. When her husband misses their fifth anniversary, a single crack begins to spread. A missed dinner becomes a trail of lies leading from the rain-soaked streets of Seattle to a hidden hotel room in Chicago. One receipt. One lingering scent of lilies. One scrap of red lace that doesn’t belong to her. The truth shatters everything. But Damian doesn’t ask for forgiveness. He offers a solution. An open marriage. After years of failed IVFs and the weight of a legacy that never came, he no longer wants a wife,just a woman to maintain the illusion while he lives his life elsewhere. Now Emilka must decide: remain the perfect wife in a beautiful lie… or destroy everything to reclaim the truth. Because in a world built on appearances, the truth is the most dangerous thing she can choose.