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Romance Books for Women

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Silent confessions

Silent confessions

"Calista!" Nix called out to me. "What? Is there a problem?" I felt the tension in his eyes. "You're not going to jail anymore, Caliee. The accident proved everything!" He shouted, embracing me and kissing my forehead. I couldn't help but slowly start to cry. "It's okay, Caliee, I told you that you're innocent." "T-thank you, Nix." I checked all my social media accounts and found both negative and positive comments at the same time. This is the reality that I can't avoid haters in the online world. Many are on my side, many are on Caleb's, as if we're fighting our own beliefs. I sat down on the couch, feeling incredibly happy and anxious at the same time. I know Caleb won't give up on me. "Calista!" I heard someone call my name outside the hotel door. "Come out!" they shouted, banging on the door. When I opened it, the heavily intoxicated Caleb greeted me, "C-Caleb?" I asked. Many were holding him back, but he was struggling, "L-let go, bro." He looked at me as if scrutinizing my entire being. "Fine! Let out your anger on me, what else do you want? Everything's been proven... It was all an accident!" As the guards left, he entered my room, slowly approaching me until I leaned against the wall. His eyes were filled with rage and hatred, as if he could kill me at any moment. "W-what do you--" I couldn't speak anymore as he punched the wall next to me. “Why, Calista? Why did you take away the woman I love?" He shouted at me while continuing to cry. "W-what do you want!" I shouted back, pushing him away. He threw my belongings, hitting my foot, causing me to stumble. "D-damn it, what!" I held my injured foot, looking straight at him, observing his angry face. I took a deep breath and spoke again, "What do you want to make you quiet? My body? Money? Wealth! That's all I have! If you want me to bring back your fiancée..." "I'm not God! Do you understand? If I could bring her back, I would've done it already, I regret it every day, every hour." I want this to end, I'm so tired. I can't take it anymore. I straightened my head bravely. I uttered the words I knew I would regret. "If I have sex with you, will you forgive me?" I bravely asked, tears slowly streaming down my cheeks. He stared at my entire body, unable to even look into my eyes. "I will never forgive you," he replied weakly and hoarsely. "Why? It wasn't intentional, it was all an accident! It's not my fault that your fiancée died, I lost my brakes, how many times do I have to tell you that I-I'm not at fault!" "It's your fault! because damn you, why? Calista? why did you kill my fiancée!" A loud shout stunned me. It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's an accident, I didn't mean to kill anyone, I didn't have brakes that day! "Why don't you just give up? Why do you still fight for your beliefs, even though both of us know that it's really you! f*ck you! Calista." I took a deep breath and looked at his face. "W-will you have sex with me! After that, my debt to you will be paid, can we do that, prosecutor Villanueva?" I bravely asked again. He stared at me, unresponsive. "Stop," he shouted loudly. "Why? Don't you want to? So I can pay you back! You'll disgrace me! Take away my dignity! Because it's my fault! Because I'm a b*tch! Because this is what you want, to feel every day that something is being taken from me! That I'm being robbed! But you don't want money, you want me to regret it every day, so here it is." He approached me and kissed me, my tears flowing as he kissed me, while he undressed me, I was sobbing softly, he continued kissing me, from my ears down to my neck, he observed my entire body. He slowly laid me down, slowly removing my clothes, as he did, I closed my eyes. He continued to explore my body, from my thighs to even the deepest parts of my femininity. DESCRIPTION: "Caleb Wyven Villanueva" is a prosecutor who is willing to do everything for his loved one, recognizing nothing, but what is in accordance with the law. But what if one day this man wakes up that the woman he loves is already de@d? Will he fight for her? Or will he just let go?
When Obedience Becomes Enslavement

When Obedience Becomes Enslavement

My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, a celebration of Mark and me, successful professionals building our dream home. But the nightmare began the moment his mother, Eleanor, stopped us with a prenuptial agreement none of us had ever discussed. This wasn't just about assets; it was a contract of enslavement: unconditional obedience to her, living under her "guidance," every penny of Mark's income going to her, and his loyalty to her always, always coming before me. I looked at Mark, expecting him to laugh, to tear up the papers, to tell her she was insane, but he just stood there, weak and pleading, signing away our entire future. The joy of the day evaporated, replaced by a cold, heavy dread. Our honeymoon was miserable, and when we returned, the reality hit me: Eleanor had taken over my master bedroom, the one I designed, and announced she was giving us a measly allowance for our "little expenses." The mortgage on my house, the one I fully paid for, was over three thousand dollars a month. That was it. "You will not control my life. You will not control my finances. And you are not the head of this household," I declared, walking out the door. I returned to constant oppression, her early morning demands, her judgments about my career, her attempts to control my meals. Mark, the man I married, just withered under her shadow, a pathetic puppet on his mother's strings. He didn't defend me, he didn't take a side; he only ever chose her. The final straw came when Eleanor, in a deranged attempt to secure her grandson' s future (which meant MY house), demanded Mark and I legally adopt my destructive nephew. She wanted to erase me completely and hand over my future, my property, my identity. "No," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. Her face contorted with rage. "I am the head of this family! My son will do as I say, and as his wife, you will too! We are doing this! I've already told Brenda!" That was the unforgivable line. I pulled out the divorce petition from my briefcase. "Here," I said, my voice ringing with authority, "Read this." Mark's face went pale as he read "PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE." "Divorce?" he whispered. "Yes, Mark." I looked at him, at Eleanor, at Brenda. "I am divorcing you. I am done with this family. I am done with your mother's insanity. And I want all of you out of my house. Now." I walked out of my house, the feeling of liberation washing over me, ready to fight for my freedom.