Tiptoe Table Legs Mga Nobela at Kwento

During my father's funeral, my husband pants heavily while pulling my cousin's legs around his waist in the morgue. She holds him saucily and asks, "How did it feel? I left my first time for you." He pulls her close, looking sated. "It felt mindblowing." She asks coquettishly, "When will you marry me, then?" His expression turns serious. "I can give you as much money as you want, but your cousin is the only woman who can be my wife. The company we've established together is going public soon." I record all of this. On the day the company becomes publicly listed, a video of their intimacy in the office is played on a humongous screen. Then, I sell my shares and travel around the world. That's when my ex-husband weeps and begs me to return.

I'm abducted the day before my wedding. My abductors lock me in a dark cellar and repeatedly violate me. My legs are snapped, and I'm thrown out with a pile of trash while undressed. Someone takes a photo of me and shares it online. My family finds me a disgrace, so they send me to a hospital in the suburbs and hide me there. After half a year of treatment, my ovaries are removed due to extensive damage. My broken legs can't recover, and I lose the ability to walk. I'm supposed to be a rising star in dancing. Now, however, I'm forced to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. I can't even have children anymore. The Levy family sees photos of me online and immediately calls off my engagement to their son, Quentin Levy. They call me a shameless woman. Then, they make Quentin marry my sister, Laura Sorensen. I think my family will pity me, but my grandfather calls me a disgrace. He wants to disown me. At that moment, Quentin's brother, Elias Levy, proposes to me. "You've only had eyes for my brother in the past. Now that he's married, will you give me a chance to care for you?" He sounds determined, and the heartache in his eyes moves me. I agree to marry him. After we're married, Elias gives me the love and care I need. He doesn't allow anyone to harm me. A year later, I complete my treatment earlier than expected and return home to surprise him for our anniversary. That's when I overhear his conversation with my brother. "Elias, I helped you trick Jean out of the house two years ago, leading to her abduction and torture. That's why she's like this now. So you can't let her down." "I did all of this for Laura's happiness. As for Jean, I'll make sure she doesn't have to worry about survival for the rest of her life…"

It's my first time visiting my girlfriend, Jennifer Hayes' family for the holidays. At the dining table, her childhood friend, Duncan Foley, suddenly slams his cutlery down. "How could you bring a prostitute client home for dinner, Jenny?" The atmosphere becomes awkward immediately. Everyone initially thinks that Duncan is running his mouth because he's had too much to drink, but he continues to ramble in a matter-of-fact tone. "My buddy is a part of the anti-prostitution task force! As if I can get the person he's personally arrested wrong!" As he speaks, he tosses a copy of the public security administrative penalty notice onto the table. My name is displayed on it. The sight leaves me stunned. It's true that the anti-prostitution task force arrested dozens of offenders in the city last month. But I'm the one who gave the signature of approval as the newly promoted chief commissioner…

"Remember the most important rule, don't get caught." *** I try to keep my expression neutral and give nothing away in my eyes, Eli is a smart man, smarter than he lets on and will know if something is different about me, "Everyone change, Eli, you definitely aren't the man you were when we first met, but the question is if the change is for the better or the worse." His hand reaches over the table and take mine in the gloves and though there is a barrier between our hands his touch is felt and the reaction sent to the rest of my body. "I love you, Anna and that's not going to change, but I have to admit that I like this side of you more. However, I am contented with whatever I get as long as I get to have you." These words are the words any woman wants to hear their man tell them and it is almost perfect to my ears... almost because I am not Anna...

Just for brushing against the hem of Eva Lawson, the heiress’s custom couture gown, Lucy Quinn's mother had her limbs broken, then thrown into the sea to die. The day Lucy dragged the arrogant heiress to court she thought that justice might finally be served. Eva was declared not guilty. Why? Because the defense attorney representing her was none other than Wyatt Grant, founder of the most untouchable law firm in River City, and Lucy Quinn’s husband. When the trial ended, the elegant and aloof man stepped down from the defense table and placed an apology letter in front of Lucy. "Lulu, sign it. You don’t want to be sued for defamation and end up in prison, do you?" His tone was calm and coaxing, but behind the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was cold as ice. Lucy, tears stubbornly clinging to her eyes, looked up at him and said with a trembling voice, "Why, Wyatt, Why?"

"I am pregnant," I say looking into his years intensely but his face is emotionless. "What?" He asked stunned, he paces around for a few minutes" I can't take care of a child right now" he snaps holding the table tightly. "We have to because I have nowhere to go," I say pleading for acknowledgment and understanding. "What do you mean?" He questioned eyeing me suspiciously. " my parents disowned me," I say looking down in shame. "I will take you in but don't expect me to care for you and your baby because all this means nothing to me" he glanced at me before walking out of his office. Tears run down my cheeks, feeling of embarrassment, and lost claws in my heart. I lost everything, my family, my self-esteem, I feel lost and worthless. Most of all I lost love.

She was deceived by people who were wolves in sheep's clothing and ended up dead on the operating table with both her eyes and uterus removed. However, God was kind enough to give her a second chance of life. She was gifted with ethereal beauty and a gaze that could kill. Every gesture and expression she made was as poisonous as opium poppy. Step by step, she laid out her scheme, swore to send people who murdered her down to hell and suffer in eternal doom. At the same time, she took great lengths to insinuate herself in the life of her ex-fiancé after breaking off the engagement in her past life for the douchebag. One day, she approached him with a seductive smile and said, "Mr. Gu, you might view me as wild and promiscuous, but in reality, I am a well-mannered lady. I am also loyal and faithful to my loved one. You will have to see past this facade in order to know the real me."

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.