How My Wife Became the inn's Prostitute - Chapter 11 - : Childhood Friend

Ethan Blackwood wasn’t used to being defied. As the CEO of a global empire, he crushed obstacles with a single glance. But when Lily Anderson stood before him, her chin lifted in quiet defiance, and something in him snapped. “Sign the contract,” he said, his voice like ice. “30 days. You’ll obey every command. After that, you’re free.”She hesitated, her fingers trembling as she gripped the pen. “And if I refuse?”His smirk was cold, but his eyes burned. “Then you’ll spend the rest of your life paying off your father’s debts. Your choice.”Trapped, Lily signed. But she vowed one thing: she wouldn’t let him break her.From the first day, their clash was electric. He demanded perfection; she gave him rebellion. “You think you can control me?” she spat, after he criticized her for being late.Ethan stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “I don’t just control you. Lily, I own you.”But as the days passed, the lines between them blurred. Late nights in his penthouse turned into whispered conversations. His cold demeanor cracked, revealing glimpses of a man haunted by his past. One night, after a heated argument, he pinned her against the wall, his breath hot against her ear. “Why do you fight me so much?”Her voice trembled. “Because I’m afraid if I stop, I’ll lose myself to you.”Their connection deepened, but danger loomed. Secrets from Ethan’s past resurfaced, threatening to destroy everything. When Lily discovered the truth behind his obsession with her, she confronted him. “Was I just a pawn in your game? A way to settle an old score?”His eyes darkened with pain. “You were never just a game, Lily. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”As the final days of their contract approached, their bond was tested like never before. Enemies closed in, and trust hung by a thread. Could they overcome the shadows of their pasts, or would their love crumble under the weight of secrets and pride?

High bun, eyeglasses, long sleeve shirt and plaited skirt. Dressed so strictly, FengJiu reached 28 without having any intimate interaction with men.

A sound, deep and unearthly, cracked across the sky — like the world itself had been struck with a sledgehammer. The stars flickered, then vanished behind creeping waves of ash and violet light. A fracture spread across the heavens, jagged and violent.And from that wound in the sky... they fell.Shapes. Twisted. Wrong. Crawling, jerking — no longer human.But inside a secluded estate tucked behind electronic gates and manicured hedges, the world still slept.Ryan stirred beneath the sheets, tangled in warmth. Jane Blackwood lay beside him, her breath calm and even. For a fleeting moment, the illusion held.Then—Bang! Bang! Bang!“Ryan!” Maggi’s voice, sharp with panic. A second slam, louder. “Open the door! Now!”Ryan groaned, still half-dreaming. “What the hell’s going on…”He slid out of bed, eyes heavy, limbs slow. When he opened the door, Eleanor nearly collapsed into him. Her hands were streaked with blood, her eyes wild.“They’re here,” she whispered. “The sky cracked open. Something came through. People are changing. Dying. Tearing each other apart—Ryan, this isn’t a dream. This is real. It’s happening.”He turned, pulse hammering. “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”Outside, the world had ended.And the dead had begun to rise.He reached for his clothes, yanking on a shirt. But just as he stepped toward the hallway. The ceiling of the household collapses on their bodies and they died instantly but the pendant given to him by his mother started flickering and next second, In the world unlike Earth, Ryan instantly opens eyes with a gasp and when he sees himself in the mirror. He got reincarnated in another world.Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Thank you !.

A replica of Marquis Kieran Vale, the son of the Marchioness of Vale, who she deemed a failure. That was all she was. No, she was now referred to as “he.” At least until she met Claude Del Ihar.