is pan am still around

In the year 2399, all of humanity is drawn into a game known as Doomsday Hotel. Every player who enters is given a basic hotel. The higher the level, the larger and more powerful the hotel becomes. In his previous life, Ryan Charles sold his hotel for $30 million. Little did he know that 30 days later, the Earth would descend into a doomsday, and the hotels within the game would manifest in reality as shelters. As a result, Ryan fell into slavery and met a miserable end. Who could have imagined that when he opened his eyes again, he had returned to the very day he was pulled into the game—and this time, he was bound to the strongest system. Trash men and scheming women come to provoke him? They only end up getting slapped in the face. While other players are still trying to figure out the game's mechanics, Ryan has already built a top-tier luxury hotel, gathered four beautiful maidservants, and is comfortably lying back, waiting for Doomsday to arrive.

Evelyn Summers is a formidable, self-made businesswoman who spent a decade building both her empire and her marriage alongside her husband, Aaron Quinn. From a modest street food stall to a publicly listed corporation, they rose together, and Evelyn took pride in what she believed was an unbreakable partnership founded on love and trust.That illusion shatters when she uncovers a devastating truth. Aaron had orchestrated a car accident that caused Evelyn to lose their child at eight months pregnant, leaving her unable to conceive again. Even more cruelly, he had been carrying on a secret affair with her younger sister, Natalie Summers. The life Evelyn cherished, her marriage, her family, her past, was nothing more than a web of lies carefully spun around her.Refusing to be broken, Evelyn fights back. She removes Aaron from his position as chairman and casts him out with nothing to his name. As the truth comes to light, Aaron spirals into madness and is confined to a psychiatric institution, while Natalie, the true mastermind behind the deadly plot, is brought to justice and sent to prison.Rising from the wreckage of betrayal and loss, Evelyn reclaims her power, her future, and her crown, proving that a queen is not destroyed by ruins, but crowned upon them.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

To prevent the merfolk from being slaughtered, I decided to go ashore and seduce my childhood friend Cyrus, who had become the Alpha King. He still loved me deeply, and we spent three passionate days and nights together in bed. Waking up from a haze of pleasure, I hadn't even had the chance to rejoice before a corrosive elixir was dunked over my head. Listening to my pained wails, Cyrus smirked. "So even an immortal mermaid can feel pain, too? "Well, this is just a taste of what's to come if you don't tell me where my parents are!" Yes, he was convinced that the merfolk were behind his parents' disappearance. From then on, I was forced to watch him flirt with his mistress, Emily; had to extract my mermaid pearl to help heal her body; was forced to dance barefoot to entertain Emily so that she could sleep… Cyrus hated every fiber of my being, yet always held me tenderly in his arms whenever I was on the brink of death, carefully feeding me medicine. Sometimes, he was cruel. "Do you think I'll go easy on you just because I love you? Quick, continue torturing her!" Sometimes, he was gentle. "Can't you be good and tell me where my parents are?" Silently, I endured his twisted love without a word. Soon, however, these days would come to an end, and I wouldn't have to keep that secret any longer. After all, a mermaid who did not return to the sea after three years on land… Would turn into seafoam. And now, there were only three days until my time was up.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.