Angela is a cancer survivor and hot Boudoir model and Pantyhose model loves to be in her element. Her all accounts social and 18+ have all men and boys crave her.

I never thought the name Jovel Alvarez Tajanlangit would mean anything beyond a whispered joke in the hallways—a mouthful, strange, unforgettable. But names carry weight, and mine is heavy with secrets. My father vanished when I was seven, leaving behind only a journal filled with coded entries and a warning: *Trust no one with the truth.* Now, at seventeen, I’ve cracked the first code. It points to a hidden room beneath our old house, sealed shut, covered in symbols I don’t understand. The night I open it, everything changes. A woman appears—burned, bleeding, calling me by a different name. She says I died three years ago. That I’m not Jovel anymore. That I’m something else. Something they’ve been hunting. Every choice since has been a lie or a trap. Do I run and vanish into the shadows like my father? Do I confront the people who erased my memories and demand the truth, even if it kills me? Or do I embrace whatever I became after death and become the thing they fear? The door is open. The past is alive. And the real Jovel might not want to be found.

Enter the story of a 14 year old girl who's life was turned upside down.

He came back early—eager to surprise her after two years abroad. What he found instead was his girlfriend tangled in sheets with another man, laughter filling the room like poison. When confronted, she didn’t cry or beg. She laughed harder. 'You really thought I’d wait?' she sneered. Heart shattered, he walked out into the storm, directionless, numb. That’s when *she* appeared—a vision in the downpour. Soft voice, warm eyes, gentle touch on his arm. She said she could see he was hurting. Said he didn’t have to be alone. And for a moment, in the cold and dark, he believed in kindness again. But her home smells wrong. The basement door is chained shut. And beneath the lavender scent clinging to her skin… something rots.