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... oday and questioned my intention to return to Yan's house in public. Fortunately, I thought of Countermeasures in time, otherwise it would be dangerous..."

"When she drove you out of the Yan family, she should have thought that there would be today. Don't be afraid. Now that you have the chips, you can kick her out of the Yan family." Her mother-in-law said on the phone.

"But now she's completely changed. She's not as weak as she used to be, and she's in charge of the family. I'm ...

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‘All it took was breaking one rule that she was not supposed to’

He was the bad boy with tattoos. She was the good girl with glasses, and she was his.

When Julianne Winters decides to move to the dormitory of the reputed University, she has everything planned so that she can complete her graduation and leave the place. But her plan is quick to catch fire from the moment the eyes of Roman Moltenore from senior year lands on her. And his appearance screams nothing but TROUBLE.

“What rules?” Julianne asked with a frown as she read through the page. She was sure she hadn't seen any rules of the campus mentioned on their website.

# 4. No using cell phones.

# 12. Students should not roam outside the campus after eleven in the night.

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“This is made up. Look, the last one is even written in pencil.” Julianne couldn't believe that her friend from the next dorm thought she would fall for it. “And no phone?”

“It is important you abide by all the rules. Especially number twenty nine,” said the girl in a serious tone. “Remember not to get involved with Roman. If you happened to see him, run in the other direction. There is a reason why it is written down here.”

With the rules of the campus, she resorts to sending handwritten letters to her uncle. But who knew it would end up in someone else’s hand!

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.