MAINUMBY

My brother, Kevin, just got the bizarre diagnosis. He had a fully functional uterus. I, a bio-ethicist, saw it as a severe medical condition, but Kevin, fueled by delusion, declared himself the "next step in human evolution." My mother, Eleanor, encouraged his madness, seeing it as a shortcut to our family's inheritance. When I tried to intervene, to warn them of the dangers, Kevin sneered, "You' re just jealous. You' re a woman, so you can' t stand that a man can do your one job better than you. You' re obsolete." My mother agreed, validating his cruel words. I pushed back, trying to get the hospital's ethics committee involved, arguing Kevin wasn't psychologically fit. They found out. I walked into our family home that rainy night, and Kevin, encouraged by my mother, attacked me with a heavy glass trophy. The last thing I saw was the trophy swinging down towards my face. Then, darkness. And then… light. I gasped, jolting awake in my own bed, my body whole. My phone buzzed. The date confirmed it: three years before my murder. Three years before Kevin's "miracle." A slow, cold smile spread across my face. They had killed me once for being an inconvenience. This time, I would be the architect of their destruction.

I woke up in a freezing alley, my lungs burning and my body shattered. I wasn't just a dying Appalachian girl; I was an ancient soul trapped in a broken human shell, starving for life force. A bulletproof Maybach idled nearby, and the man inside, Cristofer Barrett, radiated an intoxicating wave of dark energy. Driven by primal survival, I lunged at him and forced a kiss, stealing his cursed power to knit my bones back together. But my nightmare was far from over. I was dragged into the Montoya estate, a den of vipers where my "family" viewed me as a disposable tool for a corporate merger. My sister, Jordin, orchestrated a vicious campaign to humiliate me, even sabotaging my dress to ensure my ruin at the upcoming Hubbard gala. I was treated like a stray dog, beaten, and mocked by those who claimed my blood. They didn't realize that the girl they were torturing had already seen through their lies, their secret assassinations, and their pathetic greed. They thought I was a fragile victim, but they had no idea who they were dealing with. I had the power of a legend, a mind for high-stakes manipulation, and an old score to settle. Tonight, at the gala, I wouldn't just show up—I would tear their perfect world apart.

I gave up a prestigious scholarship to Zurich to become the architect of the Obsidian Pack, believing Alpha Emilio was my Fated Mate. I spent four years building his walls, his training grounds, and his legacy, waiting for the Mark that never came. On the night I planned to tell him I was pregnant with his heir, he stood on the dais and publicly gave my custom-designed Luna bracelet to his mistress's son. Desperate and heartbroken, I stepped forward to reveal the truth about our baby. Emilio didn't offer comfort. Instead, he used the Alpha Command. "Sit down, Elana." The force of his voice was a physical blow. It threw me off the stage and slammed me onto the stone floor. The impact didn't just break my body; it severed the life of our unborn pup. As I lay bleeding out, Emilio didn't look at me with regret. He shielded his mistress, Hayden, from the sight of my pain. "Get her out of here," he told the guards coldly. "If she dies as a Rogue in the woods, it’s just nature." He thought he was discarding a broken tool. He thought I would die in the river. He didn't know that I would wash up on the shores of the Silver Alps. He didn't know that their Alpha, the most powerful wolf in Europe, had been admiring my designs—and me—from afar for years. Three months later, I returned to the Obsidian Pack. I didn't come back to build his walls. I came back to tear them down.

For years, I secretly bankrolled my father's extravagant lifestyle. I was the silent founder of King Ventures, the source of his immense wealth, but I preferred to live in the shadows. But at the opening of a gallery I owned, his fiancée, Kesha, publicly accused me of being a gold-digger trying to crash the party. She had me brutally beaten by guards and locked in a dark storage room. I called my father for help, but my calls went straight to voicemail. He was at the event, living off my generosity, and he chose to ignore me. He sided with her, later telling her I was a "deranged stalker" and that he had no daughter. He had chosen his new life over his own blood. The man whose entire world I had built, whose reputation I had protected, had just thrown me to the wolves. The love I had for him shattered into a million pieces. Standing bruised and bloodied in the penthouse I paid for, I interrupted his party and made a single call in front of everyone. "Initiate Project Phoenix. Seize all assets. Leave him with nothing."

The night my high school sweetheart was supposed to propose, a future version of him appeared and ordered him to choose another girl. He claimed our love would bring ruin. And Joshua, the boy who promised me forever, believed him. He began choosing her over me, again and again. He chose her fake panic attacks over my real terror, hanging up on me as I begged for help while being cornered in a dark alley. He left me there, alone and defenseless. The final betrayal came when he agreed to let thugs give me a "warning" to stay away. While he was at the hospital comforting her, I was being brutally beaten in a locked room, my bones broken on his command. The boy I loved, my protector since childhood, had let them destroy me. I sent him the photos of my battered body with a final message: "We're done." Then I booked a one-way flight to another country and vanished, erasing every trace of the girl he once knew.

My husband of three years, tech mogul Harrison Lang, has severe face blindness. So I became a brand, not a wife, wearing only blue and Chanel No. 5 so he could recognize me. But at a party in Cannes, I watched him walk through a crowd of hundreds and embrace his mistress, Kassie, with a look of pure joy. He saw her instantly. Later that night, I was mistakenly arrested. I screamed his name for help. He looked right at me and told the police, "I don't know her." He left me to rot in a French jail cell, claiming he didn't recognize me without my "uniform." But how could he see her in a gold dress, yet not his own wife being dragged away? It wasn't his illness; it was his heart. It had learned her face, but never bothered with mine. Now, years later, he' s had me arrested again at my own art show. But as the cuffs click shut, an old fire captain steps forward. "I was at the wildfire that caused his condition," he tells the police, looking at Harrison. "And I know the girl who saved his life." Then, he points directly at me-at the star-shaped scar on my wrist.

The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman. "Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it." He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die. His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm. "Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death. They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won. But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.

It was supposed to be my vow renewal, a key PR event for my husband Angel's mayoral campaign. But when I woke up from a drug-induced haze, I found him at the altar with his mistress. She was wearing my wedding dress. I watched from a hidden balcony as he slid the ring he’d given me onto her finger in front of the entire city's elite. When I confronted him, he told me his mistress was pregnant and that he’d drugged me because she was “unwell” and needed the ceremony. He called me a useless housewife, then laughed and suggested we could raise his and Faith's baby together. Seven years of my life, my strategies, and my sacrifices had built his empire, and he tried to erase me with a single glass of champagne. But when I met him at the courthouse to finalize our divorce, he showed up feigning amnesia from a car accident, crying and begging me not to leave him on our “wedding day.” He wanted to play games. I decided to write the rules.

The phone call came on the hottest day of the year. My son, Leo, was locked in a scorching car by my husband' s stepsister, Casey, while my husband, Coleman, stood by, more concerned about his vintage Mustang than our barely conscious child. When I shattered the window to save Leo, Coleman forced me to apologize to Casey, recording my humiliation for public display. I soon discovered his chilling secret: he married me only to make Casey jealous, seeing me as nothing more than a tool in his twisted game. Heartbroken, I filed for divorce, but their torment escalated. They stole my company, kidnapped Leo, and even orchestrated a venomous snake bite, leaving me for dead. Why did they hate me so much? What kind of man would use his own son as a pawn, and his wife as a weapon, in such a cruel charade? But their cruelty ignited a cold fury within me. I would not break. I would fight back, and I would make them pay.

The air in the bank was cold, a stark contrast to the warm spring day outside. I shifted, the familiar ache in my leg a dull reminder of my past, as the teller tapped at her keyboard. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes," she said, "I can't seem to find a joint account under that name for you." I frowned, "That's not possible. It's a joint savings, with my wife, Sarah Hayes. We've had it for years." "I see a Sarah Hayes," the teller replied slowly, "but the account lists her as Sarah Miller. And you are not listed as a signatory." Miller. The name hit me like a physical blow. My former commanding officer. The man whose orders had sent my team into an ambush, ending my career and leaving me with a leg full of metal. My world tilted as I stumbled out of the bank, clutching a phone that shook in my hand. Then, I heard her voice, bright and cheerful. "Liam! Honey, is everything okay?" "I heard your voicemail, Sarah." My voice was eerily flat. Silence. Then, a choked sound. "Liam... I can explain..." "No," I cut her off. "There's nothing to explain. I just called to say... congratulations." I hung up, the emptiness inside me starting to fill with a purpose I hadn't felt since I wore the uniform. They thought I was a broken man, a harmless relic. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

My sister, Molly, and I stood on the choosing day, a second chance after our parents died and we were thrown into a strange Appalachian community. I' d lived this before; Molly, consumed by envy, had murdered my ten Beta children and then pushed me off a cliff. But now, I was back, the phantom pain a cruel reminder, only to see her clinging to the arm of Ryan Fowler-the man who had made me a matriarch in my first life. Molly' s eyes gleamed with triumphant recognition; she remembered too, thinking she' d stolen my destiny. Her twisted game escalated when, before I could even make my choice, she orchestrated a public accusation against me. She framed me for adultery, twisting a secret from her own past into a brutal lie that ended with my fur torn from my skin. Disgraced and denounced as a "slut," I was banished to the unforgiving wilderness, sent to what everyone believed would be my death. The wolf-kin, once a powerful choice, turned his back, leaving me to face a world filled with feral, exiled kin far more dangerous than any political rival. How could my own sister, reborn with me, be so intent on my utter destruction? Why did she not learn from her own miserable fate in our last life? Did she truly believe her wicked schemes would bring her power, even at the cost of my very life? Cast out, alone, and heartbroken, I still carried the chilling secret of Ryan' s true nature and the curse Molly had unwittingly invited into her life. But this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make sure she regretted every single move she' d ever made against me.

My wedding rehearsal dinner was supposed to be the perfect start to my future with Ethan. But then, a text from my sister Chloe, "Surprise! Got an earlier flight!" and just like that, my entire family, including my fiancé, walked out on me. They left me alone, humiliated, to pay for the abandoned dinner. It worsened. That night, despite my shellfish allergy, I was forced to cook Chloe her favorite risotto, my hands blistering, while they celebrated her. Then, when Chloe had a severe allergic reaction to nuts I' d unintentionally left out, my mother slapped me accusingly. My own family, and Ethan, branded me a jealous monster, willing to harm my sister. But the final blow came when I overheard them. My marriage to Ethan? Just a "strategic move" to keep him, Chloe' s long-time crush, trapped in our family' s orbit. I was bait. My entire life, a calculated chess move. The love I craved, the respect I yearned for, was a lie. That night, something inside me broke, and then rebuilt. I quietly submitted my application for a federal clerkship in D.C. Then, I packed my bag, left a life of lies, and never looked back.

I had my life meticulously planned: top grades, intense training, a clear path to the U.S. Service Academy. My future was a beacon, a reward for years of unwavering dedication. But then came the devastating twist: Mark, my childhood best friend, and his conniving girlfriend, Tiffany, decided my ambition was a threat to their own twisted narrative. They systematically sabotaged my critical fitness test and derailed my SATs, watching my dreams shatter with chilling indifference. My carefully constructed world collapsed in an instant. I was plunged into years of soul-crushing dead-end jobs, a life of grinding poverty, and the bitter taste of shattered potential. The final, brutal act of their cruelty came during a chance reunion: cold fury from Tiffany, an almost apologetic glance from Mark, then the hired thugs, the balcony, and the irreversible fall. I lay dying, haunted by the crushing weight of their malice. How could the people I once trusted engineer such a complete and utter destruction of a life? The raw injustice burned hotter than any pain, leaving me with a desperate, unanswered question: Why them, why me? But instead of oblivion, I was hurled back. The familiar scent of lavender, the drone of a lawnmower, the calendar screaming August 10th. Three months before my future was stolen. Seventeen again, with the searing clarity of what was to come. And then I saw them. Mark' s cold, assessing eyes told me he knew. This wasn't a do-over; it was war.

My father, a respected ethics professor, looked peaceful in the mortuary. But then, a chilling detail: a fresh, surgical scar beneath his collar. They said car accident, but his heart was gone. The truth shattered me: his heart, transplanted. To my best friend, Chloe, who was pregnant. And the consent signed by Ethan, my fiancé. When I confronted him, Ethan just shrugged, called it "practical." He even suggested my father's death was a "fortunate coincidence," and I should just get over it. He had the audacity to propose I become the baby's nanny. Then he locked me in a dark room, calling me "hysterical." My father' s heart, stolen and beating in my best friend' s chest. Carrying my fiancé' s child, conceived in betrayal. The cold I felt in the mortuary was nothing compared to the ice forming around my own heart. Did they really think I would accept this, quietly become their hired help? They had awakened something buried deep. My "normal" life was over. I escaped, found a burner phone, and dialed a number I swore I' d never call again. "Marc," I whispered, "I need your help." My past was about to become their nightmare.

Maria Rodriguez, a Marine widow, lived a quiet life, scrubbing floors to support her artistic teenage daughter, Sofia. Every penny, every sacrifice, was for Sofia. But in a town run by the wealthy, Sofia's very existence was a target, constantly shadowed by Maria's quiet fear. Then the phone call came from Mercy Hospital, tearing Maria's world apart. Sofia had been brutally beaten, her face a pulped mask, bandages covering half her small body. Through choked sobs, Sofia whispered the name that confirmed Maria's deepest dread: "Chad Henderson." Chad's father, Mr. Henderson—the man who "owned this town" with his private security force—showed up at the hospital, not with apologies, but with a sneer and a check, trying to buy Maria's silence. He dismissed Sofia's assault as "boys will be boys," his cronies, including the town's police chief, enabling him. Sofia, terrified, begged Maria to "just let it go." But it was too late. Sofia died days later, her vibrant spirit extinguished. The world tried to erase Sofia's murder. The police called it an "accident," Henderson's lawyer offered more blood money, even suggesting "other children." Maria's pleas for justice were met with shrugs, scorn, and terrifying intimidation by Henderson's goons. Miguel, her hero Marine, had died for his country, yet his widow and daughter were denied the most basic justice in their own backyard. The silence was deafening, the injustice infuriating. But as Maria clutched Miguel's Navy Cross and Sofia's innocent photo, a desperate, terrifying resolve hardened within her. Memorial Day was next week, a public event where Henderson would undoubtedly be polishing his image. This time, Maria wouldn't just clean floors. She would expose the truth, even if it meant shattering her last fragile peace.

Emmett was a loyal footman at the wealthy Patterson estate, desperate to scrub the slum out of his blood. He abandoned his family and gave his absolute devotion to the beautiful young miss, Clara. But when the estate faced bankruptcy, Clara ruthlessly framed him for embezzlement to protect her family's wealth. He was shoved into a police carriage in the freezing rain. Through the window, he saw Clara watching him with fake pity, looking at him like a stray dog being put down. The judge slammed his gavel, sentencing him to a slow, agonizing death. Because he had spent all his wages on tailored uniforms to fit in, his mother died in a cheap coffin from an untreated illness, leaving his siblings to starve. As the thick, coarse rope crushed his windpipe, Emmett was filled with agonizing regret. He didn't understand how the woman who smiled so sweetly could send him to the gallows without a single ounce of hesitation. Opening his eyes again, Emmett found himself back in the servant's quarters, exactly three days before the Patterson family's downfall. This time, he wouldn't be their loyal dog. He was going to be their executioner. He planned to watch Clara sell herself to the savage new heir, Kearney Bernard, just to keep her luxury. But at the welcome dinner, the terrifying new master ignored Clara completely, locked his dark, obsessive eyes on Emmett, and whispered. "You are mine. Nobody touches you."

(EROTICA - THREESOME - OMEGAVERSE) A tale between two hot Alphas and a Beta - Korean theme A tragic accident that lands a girl in a boy body of a completely different universe. Park Hae-won lives as a boy and the roommate of two Alphas. Surprisingly enough, he had one relationship or the other with both of them in the past and right now, they are mad over heels in love with him. But their problem is, they hate Omegas. Hae-won, who thought he was a Beta, suddenly discovers his gender to be that of an Omega. How will the two Alphas react? Will their feelings for him triumph over their hatred for Omegas? And not only that, he discovers that he is pregnant and doesn't know which of them the pregnancy actually belongs to. Such a twist, read to find out how things go between the three of them.

"Please don't do this. You will regret it." He cried loudly as I threw him on the bed and hovered above him. He was struggling to free himself from my cage but couldn't as his legs and hands were tied to the ropes. "This beauty is under me; I would love to ruin it." I caressed his cheek with my knuckles and then travelled my fingers to his neck and then to his collarbone. I held his shirt and pulled it with such force that it got torn, and his naked chest was visible to me. I smirked at my sight and attacked his collarbone. "Ahhhh..." He screamed and then cried, "Please leave me." I was biting and licking his collarbone, and he was crying continuously and trying to stop me by moving himself. "Slap". I got irritated, and slapped him, and said angrily, "If you spoil my mood, then someone else will suffer the punishment for your mistake." Hearing me, his eyes widened. He turned his head to one side and pursed his lips to stop his crying sound. I chuckled at my win and then leaned against his chest. ************************************** Alex Kelly (AK) is the smoking hot CEO of a very big company who is ruthless and heartless. He is also a mafia king who has no emotion left in his heart, and very few people know about it as no one has seen him as a mafia boss. He is known by his name, Mafia King AK. He is a devil in human form. He has only one aim in life: revenge by killing the man and his family who killed his parents. He doesn't believe in love; for him, love makes humans weak. Steve Martin is a doctor and works as a general surgeon in the biggest hospital in the city. He is sweet, kind, and full of positive vibes. He has never dated anyone, first because of his studies and now because of his job. He hates the mafia because of his past and never wants to encounter them in life. He left his family and lived his life by himself. But what will happen when he catches the eye of the mafia? What will happen when the mafia wants him at any cost? And when will his past stand with a sword at his throat? Will he be able to survive the upcoming danger and find his love?

Twenty-four hours. Half a million dollars. Or his mother dies. Omega Caelen Ryn is out of options: his mother is dying, treatment costs half a million dollars, and loan sharks are closing in with brass knuckles and threats. Then a lawyer appears with an offer from Alpha billionaire CEO Aldric Fenmore: marry him for two years, every debt disappears, and his mother will be saved. The rules are brutal: separate bedrooms, zero feelings, don't fall in love. Their marriage is a transaction. Nothing more. Their first kiss is for the cameras. In public, they play devoted spouses. Behind closed doors, they're strangers. Until Monaco. When Aldric's race car spins out at 200 mph, Caelen realizes the truth-he's fallen in love with his husband. And when Aldric kisses him after his victory, raw and desperate and real, the contract between them shatters completely. They broke every rule. They fell impossibly in love. Aldric's ex returns, the man who destroyed his ability to trust, bringing a ruthless business rival and a plan for revenge. What starts as sabotage escalates into kidnapping, violence, and a premature labor that leaves both their lives hanging by a thread. In the trauma room, as Caelen bleeds out, the doctor delivers words that break Aldric completely: "You have to choose. We can only save one." The husband he loves. Or the child they never planned for. In that impossible moment, every vow they made, every sacrifice they offered, and every fragile dream they built together came down to a single, devastating choice. A contract that was supposed to end. A love that refused to.

The rain lashed against my office windows, a sudden storm mirroring the chaos that erupted when Dr. Chen' s call came, breathlessly telling me, "It's David." My husband, David, was in an accident, and when I arrived at the hospital, the world shattered-he was holding another woman's hand, looking at me with cold, polite confusion. "Can I help you?" he asked, as she, his executive assistant, Chloe, tightened her grip on his hand, a triumphant flicker in her eyes. He then scoffed when I told him I was his wife of ten years, declaring, "Chloe is my girlfriend," dismissing me as "crazy" when I listed our shared memories, our dog, our wedding. He even compared being married to me to being "a piece of sensible, well-designed, but ultimately unexciting furniture," a crushing blow that twisted every cherished moment of our life into a lie. Then, the final, undeniable proof came: a video of David and Chloe, intimate in our bed, sent by Chloe herself, a trophy of her victory, after he refused to help my ailing mother. The last ounce of love I had for David died, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. I called Mark, David's estranged best friend and an investigative journalist, who had looked at me with aching worry in the wake of David's betrayal. I was Sarah Miller, celebrated architect, and David Thompson had just made the biggest mistake of his manipulative life. I was done being the victim. It was time to play his game.

After I was diagnosed with infertility, my husband insisted on divorcing me, but Makenna stopped him. She said: "You can't lose out on the wedding gifts you spent to marry her; why not sell her and recoup some of your investment?" So, Makenna sold me off into the mountains, where I endured humiliation and was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had returned to the time before I was trafficked. In this new life, I would no longer tolerate it; instead, I sold Makenna out.

My brother, Kevin, just got the bizarre diagnosis. He had a fully functional uterus. I, a bio-ethicist, saw it as a severe medical condition, but Kevin, fueled by delusion, declared himself the "next step in human evolution." My mother, Eleanor, encouraged his madness, seeing it as a shortcut to our family's inheritance. When I tried to intervene, to warn them of the dangers, Kevin sneered, "You' re just jealous. You' re a woman, so you can' t stand that a man can do your one job better than you. You' re obsolete." My mother agreed, validating his cruel words. I pushed back, trying to get the hospital's ethics committee involved, arguing Kevin wasn't psychologically fit. They found out. I walked into our family home that rainy night, and Kevin, encouraged by my mother, attacked me with a heavy glass trophy. The last thing I saw was the trophy swinging down towards my face. Then, darkness. And then… light. I gasped, jolting awake in my own bed, my body whole. My phone buzzed. The date confirmed it: three years before my murder. Three years before Kevin's "miracle." A slow, cold smile spread across my face. They had killed me once for being an inconvenience. This time, I would be the architect of their destruction.

Ethan Miller was the hottest guy in Greenville High School. Girls loved him, guys wanted to be him. He just had one problem, Corey Price. Corey Price was the complete opposite of Ethan. Ethan did not like his lingering looks and admiring glances. It made him furious. Corey was the bane of his existence. Ethan's solution was to beat and torment Corey and make his school days unbearable. Corey's wounds never healed. His fondness of Ethan turned into hatred and he vowed to never forgive him. But, he spent years working on himself and has emerged a stronger, better person, ready to take on new challenges. Finally confident, he's about to take on a new job. Until he discovered who his new boss was. It was none other than the monster himself. Ethan Miller

For my entire life, I lived in my brother Jack's shadow. He was the charming, reckless musician; I was Emily, the quiet, responsible daughter, always overlooked. As my mother, Susan Carter, lay dictating her will, I braced myself. The old lawyer read it aloud: "To my son, Jack, the house and all my savings." A predictable inheritance for the favored son. But for me: "To my daughter, Emily, I leave my collection of old family recipe books, and the contents of the cedar chest in the attic." Recipe books. An old chest. Worthless junk. It was the ultimate dismissal. While Jack got new bikes, I patched my holed shoes. While Mom funded his music dreams, I worked two jobs for my teaching degree. My A' s uncelebrated; his D-grade parties. Even in death, I was utterly alone, replaced by his triumphant smirk. How could she? After everything I'd done for her – doctor appointments, meals. This wasn't just neglect; this was personal. A deliberate statement: "You are not valued. You are not loved. Not like he is." My heart pounded with agonizing injustice. Could there be anything more? Anything at all? Mark, my husband, eyed my "worthless" inheritance. "What if your mom didn' t know?" he suggested. "Or what if… she left them for a reason, Emily? You love history. You' re the teacher." The bitterness remained, but a defiant spark ignited. What if this seemingly worthless inheritance held a secret, a different kind of legacy?

Watching Angela walk off through the club, Adam couldn't help but notice what a fantastic ass she had. Not just curvy, but the kind of J-Lo bubble butt a man wanted to cup with his hands. The kind of cheeks a man could get a solid grip on as he pounded into her. Shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, he turned his attention back to his friends to find they were all staring at him. "What?" "What was with the power play man?" Rick asked, looking at Adam a little askance. "You don't usually pull tricks like that. I would have expected it from Chris but not from you." "Hey," said Chris. "I was perfectly polite to the lady." Rick rolled his eyes. "Mostly." All three of them looked at Adam, even Andrew who normally didn't get involved in the interrogate-your-friends sessions. Since he didn’t like to talk about his own issues, he rarely got involved in trying to talk about others’. The fact that Adam's actions had aroused even Andrew's curiosity meant he'd been less subtle than he’d thought.