Kyrie_Sunbae

“No one should lay a hand on my wife. If anyone of you touches a single strand of her hair, I’ll be able to commit a massacre in no time.” – LL 

 When Zella Albert wakes up in the middle of a King’s bed with no memory of what her identity was, she tried to insist answers from one of the Cassano members with a knife, threatening to slit his throat if they don’t reveal who she was. Until Leo Luciano showed up in the middle of the ruckus and claimed her to be his wife. 

 But is Leo truly her husband or is just an impostor who tried to win his heart and kill her instead? 

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[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT ON THE LATER CHAPTERS] 

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“Kiss me if you need to prove our love. I can’t seem… to remember everything.” Leo’s lips turned pale. Zella was an observant. That slight change in his lips grew a suspicion in her. Why would he hesitate to kiss his wife? Is she really his wife? 

Leo didn’t even know what to have as an excuse. This time, he should be reckless. He approached her, closing the gap, placing his hands in his waist, pulling her closer to him. Zella got surprised, and looked up. His charm exuded through those smoldering eyes. Even though he’s not glaring, it looked at her with attention. Zella caught her breath. 

She tiptoed one of her foot. Leo brought his hand to her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. A feather light touch and it turned her on. Why do Zella feel he was skeptical with his every move? Like he doesn’t want to touch her? Leo didn’t desire to have a romantic relationship for now. But Zella came, and he had to act as a husband taking care of his wife. Besides, if he let Zella out of the mansion, they’re going to take the blame of hiding a death convict fugitive inside their house. 

The Cassanos will guarantee a guillotine death. This is all for their safety. 

“Like this…” Leo leaned in. 

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Updates will be regular since this will be part of Webnovel Spirity Awards 2022. 

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The cover is not owned by the author. Copyright goes to the artist who drew and posted it in Pinterest. Text made by the author through Canva.

Hide Me, Mister Billionaire!

He had a few stops, and Randall knew it would be such a difficult scene for him. He took a brake at the nearest gasoline station, parked there for a few moments, and searched the dashboard and compartments for any spare clothes.

Randall threw in the dirty ones on the passenger seat, and put pressure on his abdomen once again. He shifted his position to a lean position, gasping for air. Once again, Randall didn't fail the mission, but himself.

He didn't want to go on a dinner plan with a cut on his abdomen, the blood was already expelling out, and Randall wouldn't even know that the pain was excruciating. Due to its numbness, the effect washed out.

Randall gaped, already having his vision blurred, but still quite unsure if he could come there in time. He reclined at his seat for a few moments, but then, when he closed his eyes for a few moments, Randall got awoken by a cell phone call.

Going Home Bloody