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Sim Activation Proof Jio

The Dawson Reports

Before I sit down and spend countless hours of my time writing this, I want to preface it by saying: this is all pointless. This whole report seems a little unnecessary, I mean I lived it all once, I don’t really want to have to live it again. I guess I owe them all though, don’t I. The office asked me to write this piece and I suppose they were bargaining for the angle of disbelief, a story so erratic and irregular in nature that no one could get their head around it. The whole thing barely makes sense to me in places and I had the privilege of witnessing it all first hand. This work will not only lose me my job, but will dash any work I write in the future through the mud and destroy my name and credibility as a reporter. They know this, they want me off their hands because they think I’m insane. Quite truthfully I don’t blame them I would have read a piece like this back in the day and laughed – Dawson’s finally gone nuts they’ll say – it was only a matter of time. The pressure, it must have finally got to him. The pressure never got to me, I was cool headed and down to earth throughout my entire experience. You want proof of that? I’m standing here in front of you alive and well. That’s all the proof you’ll ever need, and also all you’ll ever get, because this case isn’t going to be one of those long unsolved mysteries that goes down in the ages. No, no, no this case will be one of the ones laid to rest in the archive where the other graves of stories milked to their final usage go. This whole tale is too far fetched to grasp any serious public interest and therefore wont survive. As for me, well if I don’t end up in a psych ward then I’ll be considered lucky. Poor ol’ Dawson, old before his time, at least I get to grow old. If you take the time to read this I thank you, maybe putting it down into words one last time will help me finally make some sense of it. If you’re thinking I’m crazy I’m not – trust me on that one. That being said, it’s all a bit futile really – not as if anyone will believe me anyway.
madichii · 477 Views

Sr. Presidente: O senhor é o pai dos meus trigêmeos

"M... Marissa! São meus filhos?" Os olhos de Rafael não se desviavam do rosto adorável das crianças. "Não, Rafael. Eles não são," disse Marissa com um sorriso falso, "Eles não são seus. Lembra?" ela piscou os cílios de maneira bem dramática, "Nunca fomos casados!" A irmã mais velha de Marissa Aaron, Valerie Aaron, abandonou seu namorado cego no dia do casamento e fugiu. Para salvar a aparência, a família de Merissa implorou para que ela se casasse com Raphael Sinclair. A ironia? Ela não podia dizer ao seu marido cego que não era Valerie, mas sim Marissa Aaron. No dia da bem-sucedida cirurgia de olhos de Raphael, Marissa ficou sabendo que Valerie havia voltado para tomar seu lugar de direito como nora dos Sinclair. Marissa tentou explicar ao marido que era ela quem havia se casado com ele, mas ele não acreditou. Em vez de tentar mais convencê-lo, a desolada Merissa decidiu deixar a cidade sem contar seu segredo. Raphael Sinclair era a clássica definição de galã e o único herdeiro do Grupo Sinclair de Indústrias. O que ele faria ao descobrir que todo esse tempo a mulher que lhe ofereceu amor e seu corpo não era Valerie, mas sim sua irmã mais nova Marissa Aaron? Como ele reagiria ao saber que era o pai dos bebês que Marissa estava esperando? Ele iria atrás de Marissa e reconquistaria seu amor? E a pergunta de um milhão de dólares! Marissa seria capaz de perdoá-lo e amá-lo novamente?
JessicaKaye911 · 1.5M Views
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