Little Red Riding Hood
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Little Red Riding Hood's Books and Stories
Reborn To Love My Outlaw Husband
Mafia "Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze."
Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair.
Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..."
When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel.
He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again."
I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?" The Unwanted Luna's Defiant Second Chance
Werewolf I died once. Alone. Forgotten. Exiled to a tiny cottage while my fiancé built his empire without me.
But the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance.
When I nearly drowned in my own family's lake, the memories came flooding back-every tear, every humiliation, every slow, bitter year of my first life. And I woke up different.
Now I see the truth: Alpha Darius Vanderbilt never wanted me. He saw me as a treaty, a duty, a piece of furniture to be ignored. While I pined for his attention, he gave his heart to another woman.
Not this time.
I'm done begging. Done hoping. Done being the quiet, obedient fiancée who fades into the background.
Now I train with the bow until my fingers bleed. I compete in the Royal Archery Tournament-not to impress him, but to claim my own glory. I send him a book filled with my private annotations, showing him the strategic mind he never bothered to notice. I charm his mother with knowledge no one knew I had. And when he finally looks at me with those cold blue eyes, confused and captivated?
I look away.
Let him wonder. Let him chase. Let him realize that the woman he dismissed is now the one thing he can't have.
They wanted a pawn. They got a queen.
And this time, I'm writing my own fate.
"I will not be a gift given to a man who doesn't want me. I will be a force he can never ignore." The Secret Diary Of My Ruthless Ex-Husband
Romance Haven was escorted out of her office by security like a common criminal. Her corrupt boss had just fired her without cause, denying her severance and threatening to permanently blacklist her.
Desperate, she turned to her ex-husband Clayton, a ruthless top-tier corporate lawyer, begging him to represent her.
But instead of helping, he stared at her with absolute ice.
"You thought you could pay for my billable hours by opening your legs? Find a public defender."
Left destitute and facing eviction, her life spiraled further into hell. A prestigious newspaper offered her a dream job, only to instantly rescind it. Her vicious stepsister, Bettye, had maliciously tipped them off about a ten-year-old grand larceny conviction—a crime Bettye had actually committed but framed Haven for. To make matters worse, Haven discovered Clayton's law firm was actively defending the very boss who had just ruined her life.
The injustice and betrayal suffocated her. She couldn't understand how the boy she once loved had become such a soulless monster, perfectly willing to protect her abusers while watching her drown.
While packing her meager belongings in despair, she stumbled upon Clayton's old high school diary from exactly ten years ago. Out of petty rage, she grabbed a pen and scribbled an insult on the yellowed paper.
To her horror, the ink vanished. Seconds later, sharp, aggressive handwriting bled through the blank page.
"Who are you? How are you writing in my book?"
Staring at the impossible text from a 17-year-old Clayton, a manic spark of hope ignited in her eyes. She was going to rewrite her destiny. The Fallen Queen's Dating Show Comeback
Romance Catalina had just won the Best Actress Golden Globe. It was supposed to be the absolute pinnacle of her acting career.
But a broken heel on her way backstage sent her crashing right into the arms of Brogan Cohen. He was Hollywood's most untouchable A-lister, and the man she despised most.
A hidden paparazzo snapped a perfectly timed photo of him kneeling to untangle her dress, making it look like a deeply intimate, secret romance.
The internet instantly exploded.
Brogan's rabid fanbase tore Catalina apart, branding her a shameless clout-chaser.
To make matters worse, a rival actress weaponized the scandal, accusing Catalina of sleeping her way to the top to steal roles.
Within days, Catalina's world collapsed. Her upcoming lead role in a major indie film was suspended. Two luxury fashion houses unilaterally terminated her contracts.
Meanwhile, Brogan simply hopped on his private jet and fled to the South of France, leaving her trapped in her apartment as a mob of screaming paparazzi battered her front door.
She had spent years proving her talent, only to be blacklisted and labeled a manipulative homewrecker over a stupid accident.
The sheer injustice of it suffocated her. She hated Brogan with a fiery, visceral passion for destroying her reputation and running away like a coward.
With her career bleeding out, her manager slammed a contract on the desk: an unedited, live-streamed survival dating show on a private Caribbean island.
"You need to prove you are entirely repulsed by Brogan Cohen."
Catalina grabbed the pen and signed her name with aggressive, sharp strokes.
She was going to flirt with every model on that island, burn this false narrative to the ground, and make Brogan choke when he turned on his TV. You Chose Her: Now Watch Me Reign
Billionaires For three years, Elodie gave her heart and soul to her startup founder boyfriend, Fletcher.
Despite being a wealthy heiress, she never cared about the massive financial gap between them.
But everything shattered the night her father violently kicked her out into the freezing rain.
His illegitimate daughter had just framed her by stealing her late mother's sapphire necklace.
And that illegitimate daughter was Dani, the new front-end developer at Fletcher's company.
Penniless, soaked, and sporting a bruised cheek from her father's slap, Elodie sought refuge at Fletcher's rundown apartment.
She begged him to fire the girl who had just ruined her life.
Instead, Fletcher looked at her with absolute disgust.
He accused her of being an arrogant princess trying to destroy a poor girl's livelihood.
Even when Dani answered his phone late at night and flaunted her victory, Fletcher physically defended the intern.
"If you can't handle the reality of the real world, pack your bags and go back to your mansion."
He chose his startup, and he chose Dani.
Elodie couldn't understand why her three years of devotion were worthless against a manipulative liar's cheap tricks.
She didn't understand why he always looked at her wealth with such venomous resentment, treating her love like a toxic leash.
She didn't shed a single tear as she walked out of his door forever.
It wasn't until she sat in an exclusive underground club that her best friend revealed the chilling truth.
Fletcher didn't just hate the rich.
He was deeply, dangerously obsessed with a girl from his past.
And now, he was about to realize what happens when the heiress he threw away truly disappears. His Wish, My Dying Heart
Modern I was dying from a terminal illness, but my husband, Broderick, thought it was just another one of my games to get his attention. He hated me, convinced I had betrayed him years ago for money.
As I collapsed in agony, begging him to take me to the hospital, he grabbed my chin and whispered the words that shattered my world.
"I will never forgive you. I hope you just… die."
He then left me on the cold floor and rushed to the hospital to be with his true love, Kacey-my best friend. She was the one he worried about, the one whose own heart was failing.
He never knew that the "betrayal" he despised was actually my sacrifice to save his family from ruin. He never knew the depth of my love, a love so absolute that even his cruelty couldn't extinguish it.
So, when the doctors told me I was a perfect match, I made my final choice. I would grant his wish and give my heart to the woman he loved. No Longer A Placeholder: I Rise
Modern For three years, I was Keagan Steele's passionate secret, the "Wild Rose of Beverly Hills" who finally tamed the city's coldest billionaire. I thought our love was real, a quiet world built away from the glitz.
Then I overheard him call me a "placeholder," a three-year experiment until his true love returned. That true love? My vicious stepsister, Alba.
He abandoned me after a car crash, choosing to save her while I bled in the wreckage. He watched as my stepmother beat me with a horsewhip, even suggesting she use it to break my spirit. He even broke my wrist to give Alba a locket that belonged to my dead mother.
When a falling light fixture threatened Alba, he dove to save her, taking the hit himself. His body, shielding hers, was the final, brutal proof: I was nothing.
But as I lay broken, a chilling thought took root. If I was going to be the villain of their story, I might as well play the part. And this time, I would burn their world to the ground. The Unseen Cost of Love
Romance For ten years, I gave up everything for my boyfriend, Damien. After a family scandal left him ostracized and broken, I worked two jobs to send him to a prestigious university, believing in the genius everyone else had abandoned.
But the moment he became the tech innovator I always knew he could be, he fell for someone else—a wealthy, brilliant colleague named Carson Wall.
Suddenly, I was an embarrassment. His new friends whispered about the "waitress" dragging him down. He started forgetting me, too. He forgot my birthday. He forgot my favorite food. During a fire alarm at a restaurant, he ran right past me to save her, leaving me to fall in the panicked crowd.
I was the one who pulled him off a rooftop when he wanted to die. I sacrificed my own dreams so he could have his. I thought he loved me, but I was just a debt he felt obligated to repay.
After he left me in that fire, I finally gave up. I booked a one-way ticket home, ready to disappear from his life.
Then, I received a video from Carson—her tearful love confession to him.
I took a deep breath, sent him one last message telling him we were over, and blocked his number forever. When Love Turns To Ashes
Modern The call from the police station was a splash of ice water in the face: an accident, they said. My daughter, Lily, was gone.
The words "We did everything we could" shattered my world, made worse by the cold, clinical police report: the other driver, Olivia Hayes, my ex-husband Ethan's new girlfriend, was intoxicated.
Ethan Vance, perfect as always in his tailored suit, smooth and controlled, called it a "terrible tragedy." Days later, his lawyers offered a settlement with too many zeros. When I refused, Ethan himself came, effortlessly opening my door with his old key. He threatened my frail grandmother, Rose, the only family I had left, with a "little fall," forcing me to sign the papers. He was erasing all trace of me from his life.
Just two hours after I signed, the phone rang again: Grandma Rose had fallen, critically injured. At the hospital, the same one where I'd lost Lily, she pressed a key into my hand, her last act of protection. My grandmother was gone.
I stood over her grave, her words, "Live," echoing in my head.
Then Olivia Hayes, pristine in white, walked in, dripping false sympathy. "You must be cursed," she sneered. Rage, raw and pure, surged through me. Ethan, who had once been my knight, pulled me back, commanding me to apologize to the woman who had already stolen everything. His face, once filled with love, was now cold, cruel, and unforgiving. His Regret, Her Rise: The Heiress Awakens
Romance Thanksgiving at my fiancé Ryan' s family home should have been a celebration. Instead, I watched him dote on his widowed sister, Nicole, ignoring me completely.
The final straw wasn't the pecan pie Ryan, my own fiancé, gave to her, claiming it was her favorite, even though it was my late mother' s recipe and "our thing."
It was the quiet conversation I overheard: Ryan telling his dad he was signing the deed to our shared home – the one I poured my entire inheritance into – over to Nicole next week.
When confronted, he showed no remorse, dismissing my feelings and arguing Nicole "needed" it. He and his mother then brazenly called me selfish for daring to react.
His family' s audacity reached its peak when Nicole, uninvited, ambushed me at my office, staging a dramatic scene where she publicly branded me a cruel monster attempting to evict a grieving widow and her child.
Then Ryan stormed in, pointing a finger, threatening my boss with financial ruin for supposedly enabling my cruelty, and daringly declaring I had "no heart."
He had no idea who he was talking to.
The smug look on his face vanished when my boss introduced me: not just Stella Anderson, but Stella Chadwick Anderson, heiress to one of the country's largest fortunes.
That's when I cut him off, professionally and financially. It was time for him to understand the true cost of underestimating me. When A Woman Dies To Live
Romance "I\'m sorry, Ms. Fuller, but this marriage certificate is a forgery."
The county clerk's words crushed me, revealing the flimsy paper from our Las Vegas wedding five years ago was a lie.
Then came the second blow: Ethan Lester, the man I' d spent seven years with and was raising a son with, was already legally married. To Maria Roberts.
The name Maria, who Ethan claimed was a distant memory from his amnesia days, now haunted me, along with the chilling truth that Leo, our sweet five-year-old, wasn't mine at all. He was Maria' s biological son.
My world shattered completely when I overheard Ethan confessing his ultimate betrayal: he had deliberately caused my miscarriage years ago by switching my prenatal vitamins, all so I would be unable to have children and would agree to adopt Leo.
The man I loved orchestrated my deepest pain and greatest joy through a web of calculated, monstrous lies, turning my very life into a weapon against me.
Lying bleeding after being betrayed and abandoned at a gala, I whispered for a "Protocol Zero" exit. Jocelyn Fuller was dying – but a soldier was about to be reborn. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride
Priority I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them. The Don's Wife Is His Executioner
Deeply Engaged My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen.
But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman.
"Our little secret is growing."
The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar.
"The only exit from this Family is death," he warned.
The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate.
I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves.
He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy.
He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire.
I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative.
"Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first." Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him
SHANA GRAY I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." Too Late, Mr. Mafia: The Surgeon He Discarded
Winnie Suchoff I was the wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country.
But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me.
I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth.
My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated.
I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife.
In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed.
Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets.
I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse.
Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began.
Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears.
"Take your time to think about it."
This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life.
I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned. 
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