

Someone @'d me on Nextdoor. "Hey, penthouse girl. You're single. What do you need a whole rooftop garden for? My husband's throwing a party. We'll be needing it starting tomorrow." "Don't worry, we'll give you two hundred bucks a month for upkeep. You'll make a couple hundred for doing jack shit. You should be thrilled." I stared at the screen. It was a joke. I was Don Ricci's heir, groomed to run the South Side. But I traded that life for a paintbrush. This apartment was my sanctuary, my quiet place. That rooftop garden wasn't some building perk. It was mine. I'd paid half a million cash for the deed when I bought the place. I turned it into my sunroom studio. And now someone thinks they can have it for two hundred bucks a month? I replied with two words: "Dream on." I didn't expect the building manager and two security guards at my door the next day. Someone had filed a complaint about me "misusing community resources." And now, for the sake of "neighborly harmony," they were demanding my keys. Fine. They wanted to throw civility out the window? They were about to learn what real power felt like.

Marco, an appliance dealer who rose from the bottom, returned to his old apartment building and paid out of his own pocket to install air conditioners for every household, as a way of repaying the kindness he had received years ago. However, his neighbor Marina took the lead in filing claims under various pretexts and engaging in moral blackmail. Without arguing, Marco dismantled all the air conditioners overnight and took them away. When the scorching heat arrived, the old building suffered terribly, while the new building across the street remained cool and orderly. After enduring heatstroke, shortages, and failed extortion attempts, the neighbors finally broke down and had no choice but to turn to Marco for help. Marco presented them with a business contract and insisted that things be done according to the rules. In the end, the neighbors paid to have the units reinstalled—except for Anna, the only one who had stayed clear-headed back then, and who received Marco's free, special care.

After experiencing a period of boyfriend's domestic violence, Joyce move to a new city by the suggestion of her best friend. she met a handsome and helpful neighbor called carl when she arrived at her new apartment,but their relationship turned a sharply down because the room is not soundproofed and Joyce can always hear carl make love with other girls. However it is also carl when Joyce’s ex-boyfriend pretended to be a good person and try to approaching her again , he help Joyce get rid of ex boyfriend's harassment and Joyce finally fall in love with carl.

During a family gathering, my mother produces a few photos of different men. She asks me which one I want to get into an arranged marriage with. I don't choose Bradley Garvin again in this lifetime. Instead, I pull out a photo of my own and give it to my mother. It's of Terrence Garvin, the Garvin family's true leader. My mother is surprised. I've pursued Bradley for many years, after all. What she doesn't know is that I married him in my past life. However, he rarely came home. I always thought it was because he was too busy. Whenever anyone asked me about it, I took all the blame. I only discovered the truth on our 20th wedding anniversary after accidentally breaking a box he kept locked in his closet. It turned out my sister was the one he'd always loved. He never returned home because he didn't want to see me. Unexpectedly, Bradley loses his mind when I'm about to put a diamond ring on Terrence's finger on our wedding d

Billionaire heiress Kira Freeman mistakenly thinks the heir of the Mannings is just a broke guy selling himself to pay off debts, while Blaine Manning assumes Kira is an ordinary woman. The two end up pretending to be poor and quickly marry, starting a small family together. Along the way, they face off against clueless people in both the workplace and high society, proving everyone wrong at every turn.

My mother-in-law and I were traveling together. We'd just checked into the Solenne Hotel in Rivera City and decided to hit the pool. Then this woman—dressed like money and attitude—pinched her nose like we stank. "This is a luxury hotel. How did you people even get in? Sneak in just for the pool? Ugh, I need a test after this." Buzzkill. I snapped, "It's a hotel pool. Guests swim. If that's a problem, go build your own." Her face twisted. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am? My husband owns this place. We always stay in the top suite. So get out. You reek of broke. You're contaminating the water." Georgina and I traded a look. Ice cold. This was her son's hotel. My husband's. Since when did he come with a second wife?

My mother-in-law and I were traveling together. We'd just checked into the Solenne Hotel in Rivera City and decided to hit the pool. Then this woman—dressed like money and attitude—pinched her nose like we stank. "This is a luxury hotel. How did you people even get in? Sneak in just for the pool? Ugh, I need a test after this." Buzzkill. I snapped, "It's a hotel pool. Guests swim. If that's a problem, go build your own." Her face twisted. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am? My husband owns this place. We always stay in the top suite. So get out. You reek of broke. You're contaminating the water." Georgina and I traded a look. Ice cold. This was her son's hotel. My husband's. Since when did he come with a second wife?