William Jafferson
12 Published Stories
William Jafferson's Books and Stories
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
Horror My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." The Surgeon Heiress's Cold-Blooded Revenge
Modern I woke up strapped to a cold steel operating table, the blinding light of a surgical lamp burning my retinas. I was a doctor, but I wasn't the one holding the scalpel this time.
Then I heard the voice of my stepfather, Arthur Bailey—the man who had seized my family’s entire estate after my father’s death. He wasn't there to save me; he was there to sell me. "Just get the kidney on ice for Archer," he told the butcher in scrubs. "Do whatever you want with the rest of her."
This wasn't a hospital; it was a slaughterhouse in Queens. To escape, I had to dislocate my own thumb to slip the leather cuffs and use a scalpel to slice my way out of the room. Covered in blood and grime, I crashed Arthur's high-society gala at the Plaza Hotel, only to find my family pretending to mourn my "mental breakdown" while they planned my permanent disappearance into an asylum. Even as I stood before them, dripping with sewer water and rage, they tried to have me dragged away as a lunatic.
I was a top-tier trauma surgeon, yet I was being treated like a piece of meat by the people who were supposed to be my family. The betrayal tasted like copper in my mouth, a cold, slow panic turning into a simmering, absolute fury. I didn't understand how they could look at me and see nothing but a collection of spare parts.
That's when Cedric Mullen, the billionaire I’d been legally married to while he was in a coma, stepped out of the shadows to claim me. He didn't want a wife; he wanted a legal asset to unlock his inheritance. I looked into his predator's eyes and signed his contract, trading my silence for his resources. I told him, "I want Arthur Bailey destroyed. I want him to feel what it’s like to be cut open and left for dead." I wasn't a victim anymore; I was a reckoning. Replaced By A Mistress: The Wife's Revenge
Mafia I went to the City Clerk's office to update my passport, desperate to feel alive again after losing my ability to draw.
Instead, the clerk handed me a reality that killed me.
"Mrs. Crosby," she whispered, her face drained of color. "You aren't married to Bennet. The divorce was finalized three years ago. On October 12th."
The date hit me harder than a physical blow.
October 12th was the day my right hand was crushed.
The day Gianna Skinner, a woman obsessed with my husband, shattered twenty-seven bones in my drawing hand with a marble bust.
Bennet, the most ruthless Don in New York, had promised me justice. He swore he locked Gianna in a dungeon to rot for hurting his "Angel."
But the screen in front of me told a different story.
He had married Gianna the very same day he divorced me.
I drove to the Lake House where she was supposed to be suffering. I didn't find a prison; I found a modern glass palace.
There they were, sitting on a swing set I had designed.
Gianna wasn't rotting. She was laughing in his lap, wearing a silk robe.
"She is so pathetic," Gianna purred, tracing his jaw. "Five years and she still thinks she is the Lady of the house."
Bennet chuckled, the sound dark and terrifying.
"She is broken, Gianna. A bird with no wings. She has no value to the Family anymore, except as a trophy on my shelf. She is my pet. You are my fire."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Bennet.
"Happy Anniversary, my Angel. Tonight, I give you the world."
He wasn't giving me the world. He was building a cage out of lies.
Through a bugged ring, I later heard his endgame: he planned to institutionalize me for "mental instability" so he could bring Gianna into the light.
I didn't go home to cry.
I went to my office and opened a secure browser on the dark web.
*Subject: Protocol Erasure.*
*Target: Harper Cline.*
*Execution: Immediate.*
Bennet thought he had broken his pet.
He was about to realize he had just unleashed a lioness. My Husband's Perfect Deception
Modern For five years, my life was perfect. I was the political genius who put my father on a path to the White House. My charming husband, Christian, adored me.
It was all a meticulously crafted lie.
His ex-fiancée, Isabelle, the one they told me died in a car crash? She wasn't dead. I found her living in a secluded estate with my husband and their four-year-old son.
My own father was funding their secret life. My entire family was in on it.
Then I found the video. My father, my stepmother, and Christian, all planning my character assassination.
"We paint her as emotionally volatile, a liability," my father said. "We discredit her before she can discredit us."
They weren't just hiding a secret. They were prepared to destroy me to protect it. The family I thought was my anchor was my prison, and the man I loved was my warden.
The idealistic girl who craved her father's approval died right there. She was replaced by a cold, precise fury.
I copied their entire secret life onto an encrypted flash drive. I built their dynasty.
And now, I was going to be the one to burn it to ash. Betrayed Heiress: A Husband's Deception
Billionaires Four years after Alanna Robertson, a wealthy heiress, was kidnapped, she miraculously returned home, only to find her fiancé, Cameron Stewart, and brother, Anderson Robertson, completely under the spell of her adoptive sister, Bailey Kent.
She tried to expose the truth, but they dismissed her claims as trauma-induced delusions. Instead of finding comfort, Alanna was slapped, pushed down stairs, falsely accused, and humiliated.
Her own family, the people she loved most, betrayed her. They sided with Bailey, believing her every lie, and even sent Alanna back to the very human trafficking compound where she had been held captive for years. There, she endured unimaginable torture once more.
Why were they so blind? How could they be so easily manipulated by Bailey's sweet facade? Why did the people who claimed to love her punish her for telling the truth?
In her darkest hour, Alanna found a hidden camera in her mother's locket. She meticulously recorded every act of betrayal and every moment of her renewed nightmare. Then, with a final, desperate act of defiance, she set the compound ablaze and leaped from a cliff, using her own life as the ultimate proof. She left them with a ticking time bomb of truth, forcing them to confront their monstrous mistakes. Finding Love After Leaving Him
Romance I spent seven years loving Autry Villarreal, the man who became my guardian after my parents died. He was my savior, my entire world.
Then, he announced his engagement to Cassie Turner, a woman who looked uncannily like a younger version of me. I found out by watching it on the news.
His fiancée moved into our home and immediately began erasing me. She tore out the rose garden I had spent years tending, laughing as the bushes were ripped from the ground.
Next, he used his influence to kill a major brand deal I had, giving it to her instead.
The final blow came when she leaked fake, scandalous photos of me online. He refused to defend my name. He told me to just disappear, offering me money to live comfortably as long as I stayed away.
"I will protect her," he said. "She is my fiancée."
I looked at the man who had promised to always protect me, now offering to pay for my silence. In that moment, seven years of love turned to ash.
I booked a one-way ticket to France. This time, I wasn't running away. I was finally choosing to live for myself. The Final Cut: Love Lost
Billionaires Ethan Miller, a game developer, was lost in his pixelated world until his fiancée, Chloe, shattered it. He watched online as she flaunted herself with billionaire Julian Harrison, a man old enough to be her father, wearing a sapphire bracelet he couldn't afford.
Chloe's merciless abandonment followed. She returned to their apartment only to trash his monitor, mocking him as a "broke nobody" and declaring her love for Harrison right to his face, adding insult to injury.
The deep betrayal and humiliation felt like a physical blow. He stared at the shattered screen, the broken pieces of his game, of his life. Chloe packed her bags, laughing as she left, promising Monaco and a life he couldn' t dream of.
His world spiraled-a small apartment, a crashed monitor, and the echoing words of Chloe with her new lover. He was a victim, a nobody. Everything they had built was fake, like the pixels on his screen.
But the hurt quickly solidified into a cold, burning anger. He picked up his phone, dialed a number he hadn't touched in three years, and with a steady voice, declared, "Dad, I'm coming home." The Woman He Became
Romance My wife, Molly, had a best friend, Nate, who was always a little too close for comfort.
I tried to ignore the red flags-her late nights with him, his hand always on her arm, their inside jokes that shut me out-but it ate at me.
Then, for my birthday, Molly brought Nate along… via video call, to help him custom-design a gift.
I stood there, an ignored accessory to my own celebration, feeling like a piece of furniture until my patience snapped. The final blow came on our anniversary when she abandoned me completely for one of Nate' s "emergencies."
I decided I was done.
But as I packed my bags, Molly dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant. Under immense family pressure and for the sake of our unborn child, I agreed to try again, but only if Nate was completely out of our lives. She promised.
But she lied.
Weeks later, despite my direct orders, she secretly went to Nate' s notorious boat party, where his reckless actions caused her to lose our baby.
The devastating loss shattered everything, leaving us with nothing but the broken pieces of a life that would never be.
In a twisted spiral of grief and blame, Molly snapped. She drove to Nate' s studio, waited for him, and intentionally ran him over, crushing his legs and ending his career.
She was arrested, her life, and what remained of ours, irrevocably ruined. Finally free from the toxic cycle, I walked out of the chaos and into a new, respected future, entirely my own. The Diplomat's Daughter's Justice
Modern Sarah Miller was deeply in love with Ethan Hayes, her charming athlete boyfriend of four years.
Their relationship felt perfect, built on trust and shared intimacy.
A simple visit to the university clinic for a stomach ache seemed innocuous enough.
But Ethan' s step-sister, Chloe, a nursing student, botched Sarah' s blood draw, causing her immense pain.
When Sarah calmly asked Chloe for an apology, Ethan' s loyalty shockingly shifted.
He sold Sarah' s most intimate photos-photos he had taken-to his frat brothers, boasting he was "teaching her a lesson" for slighting Chloe.
Sarah discovered her private life plastered across campus forums, her dignity publicly shamed and mocked.
Yet, the nightmare escalated further when Ethan, feigning concern, lured her to a party under the false pretense of Chloe' s apology.
There, she was drugged with GHB, humiliated, and recorded by Ethan and his friends, their leering faces documenting her violated state.
How could the man she loved so deeply betray her so fundamentally, all for a petty slight against his step-sister?
Why did his seemingly protective words mask such calculated, cruel sadism?
Her world spun in a haze of sickening betrayal, unbearable public degradation, and the terrifying loss of memory from that fateful night.
Broken but not defeated, Sarah made a desperate call to her diplomat parents, fleeing the country to heal.
Now, years later, armed with a full, terrifying memory of that night and an unwavering resolve, she' s back.
And this time, she' s not just escaping-she' s here to ensure every single person who wronged her faces their true reckoning. The Heiress Who Died Twice
Billionaires After two years in a secluded Swiss Alps "wellness retreat," I returned to my Hamptons home, ready to reclaim my life and legacy.
But my lavish "welcome back" party quickly turned into a public spectacle of betrayal. My fiancé, Ethan, openly paraded Olivia Morgan, a manipulative substitute who'd copied my style then twisted it into a saccharine imitation. My half-brother, Leo, and stepmother, Catherine, plotted to seize our family's media empire. I was dismissed as "harsh" while Olivia played the innocent victim. Ethan, whom I’d once loved, hurled accusations. Then my cousin, Ellie, revealed the chilling truth: Olivia wasn't just mimicking me; she was following a discarded script Ellie had written – a story where the "sweet" rival replaced and killed the heiress.
This wasn't just about betrayal; it was a deranged, literal plot for my life, orchestrated by those I trusted most. The sheer audacity of them trying to write my ending, to cast me out and then erase me completely, ignited a cold fury I never knew I possessed.
They wanted me dead? Fine. I decided then and there that if they wanted to follow a script, *I* would write the new ending. And it would start with my very public, very convincing "death." This time, I’d pull the strings from the shadows, making sure everyone got exactly what they deserved. The Assistant's Secret, The CEO's Obsession
Billionaires They called it an "accidental drowning." Eighteen months. Eighteen months since my brother, Leo, was gone. His infectious laugh, his terrible jokes, all silenced.
But I knew the truth. It was a lie. Izzy Sterling’s name was branded on my soul. Those Hamptons words – "Deal with him" – led to Leo’s broken body on the shore. Their money, their lawyers, buried the truth.
So I spent eighteen months learning. Not just my NYU degree, but about the Sterlings, their dirty secrets. I became Ethan Reed’s executive assistant, perfect, invisible. I meticulously orchestrated Izzy Sterling’s downfall, manipulating jealousy, sowing doubt, turning her own cruelty against her. My plan worked. I replaced her. Yet, somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Ethan, the man I was meant to use.
Just as I thought justice was within reach, a new, far more cunning darkness emerged: Julian Vance. Not just a cover-up artist, but a true monster. He saw me as a threat, poisoned me, kidnapped me, even hired a hitman for my unborn child. Each escalating attack pushed me to the edge, a new kind of desperation.
Cornered, I confessed my carefully guarded secrets to Ethan. And to my surprise, he didn't run. Instead, he chose to fight with me, against the monsters who wronged my family, against anyone who threatened our newfound love. But even after Julian's imprisonment, a ruthless business rival, Marcus Thorne, launched a deadly attack, pushing me into premature labor. This isn't just about truth anymore. It’s about survival. It's about protecting what’s left, and ensuring no one else suffers like Leo, even if it means fighting beyond the law. You might like
From Brokenness To Billionaire Bride
William Jafferson My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach." When Sisterhood Becomes Betrayal
Zaccaria Linn The dream always started the same way: my sister, Sarah, screaming my name, her face twisted in pure terror, pointing at a world where the dead walked.
This time, the screaming wasn't a dream. It was real, coming from down the hall.
"They're coming! I saw them!" Sarah shrieked, convinced her nightmares were prophecies.
My parents rushed to her, cooing about a bad dream, but Sarah insisted it was real, clearer this time, a prophecy of rotting flesh and dead eyes.
I lay in my bed, heart a slow drum, remembering my first life: the foolish concern, the attempts to reason that always ended with their blind siding of Sarah.
My logic was met with her tears, my calm with her hysterics, and our parents, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, labeled me "insensitive," not understanding how "special" Sarah was.
My efforts to save their retirement, to hide car keys from her "prepper" conventions, led to slaps and silent treatments, to accusations of sabotaging her "survival instincts."
The family crumbled around her delusion, losing their house, savings, everything, and when the apocalypse never came, they blamed me for not believing, for not supporting their perfect, unified front of madness.
They cast me out, and I died alone in a homeless shelter, not from a zombie, but from pneumonia.
Now, I was 22 again, lying in my childhood bed, listening to the prelude of that same disaster, a second chance at a test I' d failed spectacularly.
This time, I knew the answers.
"It' s going to start with the birds!" Sarah yelled, predicting a mass blackbird death event, completely unaware I knew about the city' s planned fumigation.
My parents leaned into her every word, their faces a mix of worry and excitement, while a bitter taste filled my mouth.
I wouldn' t stop her. I wouldn' t save them.
This time, I would watch them burn.
And I would bring the gasoline. Beyond His Betrayal, A Mother Rises
Zitella Shepp I was overjoyed when I found out I was pregnant. I posted a simple, happy announcement on social media—a picture of tiny baby shoes, captioned "Our next chapter begins."
The next day, my husband Kaeden accused me of doing it to deliberately hurt his "fragile" friend, Clemmie, who was infertile. He said I needed to be taught a lesson in cruelty.
He strapped me to a table and, while Clemmie watched, ordered a man to electrocute me.
I begged him to stop, to think of our child, but he refused.
"Increase it," he commanded, even after being warned it could kill the fetus. He left me bleeding out on the cold metal.
But the horror was just beginning. I was rushed to a hospital, not to be saved, but to be harvested. I heard the doctor's triumphant voice: "It's a perfect match."
My husband was having me murdered to give my heart and kidneys to his mistress.
My last sensation was the cold steel of a scalpel on my skin. My last thought was of my baby, who would never draw a breath. The monitor flatlined into a single, unending tone.
Then, my eyes fluttered open. I was alive. Reborn to Reign: A Mother's Fury
ffssg My name is Sarah, and I remember the cold.
Not the chill of winter, but the stainless-steel table against my back.
My sons, Michael and Gabriel, were gone, their screams replaced by silence.
My husband David, blinded by ambition, led us to that abandoned clinic.
His sister, Veronica, craved an heir for her powerful husband, Senator Harrison.
She believed my "Legacy Fertility" and my children's "vital essence" could help her.
A quack "expert" performed monstrous acts on my seven-year-old twins.
Then it was my turn; they brutally harvested my ovarian tissue.
I was left to bleed out on a filthy floor, my insides torn.
I died there, a vow of revenge frozen on my lips.
Later, I saw Veronica on the news, pregnant and glowing with what she stole.
But then, warmth. Sunlight.
My eyes snapped open to my own familiar bedroom.
Michael was on my chest, Gabriel curled beside me, both alive, young, and whole.
The calendar read October 14th—the very day it all began.
The memory slammed into me: David's averted eyes, the isolated building, Veronica's cold voice, Michael's terror, Gabriel's whimper.
This wasn't a dream; this was a second chance.
Veronica, triumphant in my first life, had risen on my family's ashes, her belly swelling with a lie while mine was emptied by her greed.
No. Not again.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
I would take everything she had, everything she wanted.
Her husband. Her position. Her future.
My revenge would be absolute, and my children would live. The game had begun. The Billionaire's Blizzard Bait
Lan Zhen I lived a life of enviable luxury in my pristine Colorado mountain cabin, nestled deep in the Rockies.
Then, I died, frozen solid just outside my own front door.
My last sight was Ethan, my boyfriend, feasting on my food inside, watching me claw at the glass until my fingers bled.
His family, the Scotts, laughed as I froze, adjusting curtains to block me out, celebrating my demise.
They left me to perish in the brutal blizzard, utterly and completely abandoned.
That death was absolute, excruciating, and unforgettable.
But then, I jolted awake, submerged in 1200-thread-count sheets, the Rockies bathed in sunlight outside my window.
It was ten days before the storm, before my betrayal.
A wave of nausea hit me, the phantom hunger and cold still clinging to my bones, but then a cold, hard fury replaced it.
This time, my cabin, my wealth, and my meticulous planning wouldn' t be my downfall; they would be my ultimate weapon. Her Perfect Swap
Serenity Now My husband, Mark, hummed happily in the shower, the sound a dull comfort. I picked up his phone, intending to set his alarm, a routine task in my seemingly perfect life.
Then, a new message flashed: "Jessica." Followed by words that shattered my world: "Can't wait for the road trip, baby. Soon she'll be gone, and we'll be rich." Road trip? He' d mentioned one for us, next weekend.
My fingers trembled unlocking his phone, our anniversary the passcode-irony's cruelest stab. Months of messages with Jessica, my adoptive sister and childhood tormentor, confirmed it: they were plotting my murder. "The brakes will fail on that riverside road," Mark wrote. "The insurance money will set us and the baby up for life." A photo showed Jessica with a newborn, and Mark's reply: "Our little one deserves the best." My marriage, my comfortable life, was a cold, calculated lie.
Mark emerged, smiling, a predator's grin. He chattered about the "beautiful" road trip, oblivious, each word a hammer blow. He was going to kill me. My own sister, his accomplice. My cherished life, a carefully constructed trap.
He left with a casual "Love you!", but the silence that followed was deafening. Then, rage burned away the shock. They wouldn't get away with this. Whispers from Room 7
Meng Xinyu Two years. My spirit has been tethered to the rotting wood and peeling paint of the Starlight Motel. They told everyone I died here—a self-inflicted wound, the 'problem child' finally snapping. All I felt was a hollow ache, a desperate longing for them to finally see me, to see the truth.
Then, a chilling shift. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, their voices tight with feigned distress, and my 'perfect' brother Mark, his tone smooth with false concern, were making plans. They'd invited Leo Maxwell, the host of "Legend Trippers," a ghost hunter, to the Starlight. Their aim: to livestream "proof" that I'm a malevolent, vengeful spirit haunting them.
The livestream started, and I watched, helpless, as Mark orchestrated his performance. He painted me as a drug-addled, violent monster, choking back fake sobs as he claimed I "turned the weapon on myself." Leo found "evidence"—a rusty hunting knife and a photo with a chilling message in "my handwriting," clearly planted. The online comments flooded with sympathy for my 'poor' family, condemning me.
My spirit burned with a silent, furious injustice. I wanted to scream, to expose the lies piling up, a suffocating wall I couldn't push through. They wanted to paint me as a monster, again, and I was voiceless. If only they knew what really happened that night. If only they knew who the real monster was.
But then, away from the staged theatrics, Leo's curiosity led him to a dusty old Wurlitzer jukebox in the forgotten diner. Inside, nestled among the wires, he discovered a small, battery-operated cassette recorder. He pressed play, and from the static, my voice, my real voice, hesitantly began to speak. ENRAGED SOUL
otu Harriet Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends.
She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her.
" Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek.
Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing.
They molested and bullied her until she passed out.
" Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried
" Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...."
" No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..."
" Oh, my God...what should we do..."
Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action.
ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl My Family's Faith, My Bloody Fate
Landslide It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy.
Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me.
My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination."
They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why?
It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers.
Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again.
This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family.
Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free. 
/0/89210/coverorgin.jpg?v=3dc83d680241a5e99742657ac802fd4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/108226/coverorgin.jpg?v=64bd472aeb0cc8c29240191b51d3109e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104845/coverorgin.jpg?v=b446d1f25593482884e233eadf104dbb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/93377/coverorgin.jpg?v=40d6324ba518798edf1b32f54becc73a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/91019/coverorgin.jpg?v=d35b859043c3eb571efd218afac701df&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/87570/coverorgin.jpg?v=674d9acc8ab14d65f0535788a3a70e92&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86790/coverorgin.jpg?v=777d5b4ce0884e83816f1ae67114e0b0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84222/coverorgin.jpg?v=fe113f07bfa9c24ebe634b10f51cd8de&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81420/coverorgin.jpg?v=2bd41ce3320a51e1c266a3daf65c1c59&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80835/coverorgin.jpg?v=a5912a5b1c29f2fcc350534cb81984eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79755/coverorgin.jpg?v=00bd6db29fc0c6571720646236566854&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18824/coverorgin.jpg?v=ca883eb3f69a18e7eddb1803497cdd71&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86141/coverorgin.jpg?v=97a1ade9a1caccf416a5c70eed465181&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/87561/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106213218&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80729/coverorgin.jpg?v=fbc3156bd53fe7fa82c09b7c522eafce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83971/coverorgin.jpg?v=c546dc34478630189ec19e33e737abcd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81060/coverorgin.jpg?v=ca5c90f2c0ea021e997346431ad060f2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80838/coverorgin.jpg?v=1bc6531a3ce7d3bf99b70db0bcfc9adb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/94326/coverorgin.jpg?v=dfb6a02b0805226b467d8ffb5dc54af9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/21590/coverorgin.jpg?v=7855f5c1e6c6920de9565ca84a1f1584&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83696/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2b9a999862d8073ff05479400c72800&imageMogr2/format/webp)