How Does 'A Short History Of Tractors In Ukrainian' End?

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended. I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes. But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name. Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy. The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine. All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting. I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do. I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of paper. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn in 1945, when the war had just ended This time I will not swallow my anger and suffer in silence; I will fight back. And I will take back every single thing that is rightfully mine.

I was supposed to expose the Bratva monster's scandal, but instead, I became his obsession. I'm Irina, a librarian determined never to marry so I could care for my grandmother, who suffers from dementia—my only relative and my reason for living. He was Miron Pavlov, the blood-stained leader of the Bratva. He entered my life, but I couldn't fix it. He was here to take control, to make me his contract mistress turned legal wife. I tried to resist, but he was relentless, ruthlessly possessive. His hazel eyes undressed me, dragging me into his cruel world, making me question everything. So I ran when I discovered I was pregnant, unwilling to raise my child in his company. But Miron didn't care about the rules of his family, his cartel, his world. He pursued me, he desired me. Would his dark love change me? Or would she choose an ordinary man who would be much better at raising her child?

On the day I receive my Distinguished Service Medal, I also receive word that my grandma has passed away. My superior grants me special leave to return to my hometown to mourn her death, so I rush to my ancestral home at once. But when I reach the ancestral graveyard behind the hill, I witness something that makes my blood boil. The graves of my deceased family members have been razed to the ground. Even my parents' graves have been brutally dug up. Their urns are now placed under flower pots filled with blooming red roses. Grandma's coffin has been pried open as well.Her body now lies strewn on the ground and has started to rot. I also see Lucy Stewart, my autistic younger sister. Melissa Abbott, my wife's assistant, orders Lucy around like a maid, forcing her to move heavy construction materials around. Enraged, I grab Melissa by the throat and throw her to the ground. "How dare you destroy my family's ancestral cemetery and make my sister do hard labor! Do you want to end up buried here too?" Melissa coughs up blood before crawling back onto her feet, her expression vicious and scornful. "I'm simply carrying out Ms. Fuller's instructions. She says that your ancestral cemetery is located in a good spot. It's also the perfect size to be turned into a private horse ranch and a garden for her future husband. "Ms. Fuller calls the shots here in Joverton City. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" Resisting the urge to put an end to her life, I call up Eva Fuller, my wife. "I heard you call the shots here in Joverton City. Well, I shall put that to the test today!"

"I had enough of this toxicity!" she yelled at him. "I'm a toxic man, lyubov and I would like to be with you in a toxic relationship and stay happy rather than to be in a healthy relationship and become unhappy for the rest of our lives." he rasped in her ear making chill ran down her spine. "But I don't want all of this. I want peace in my life." she said disagreeing with him. "I can't help in it lyubov, you have to bear it even if you like it or not." he smirked at her. *** What will happen when Rooh Sharma an Indian college girl will stumble into Mikhail Igor Gorbachev the Russian mafia's life. The both are poles apart and have their own principles. Who will change whom or will they end up together or not?

Before heading off to war, Sebastian Crawford made a solemn blood vow on his honor—just to keep me from worrying while he was gone. He promised to come back and marry me with a grand ceremony, the whole nine yards. Eight years later, Sebastian returned as a general, draped in glory. But by his side was a woman—dressed like a man, her very pregnant belly sticking out like a sore thumb. I took a deep breath, calmly slipped off my engagement ring, and called the whole thing off. Sebastian scowled, clearly annoyed. "Lena bled with me on the battlefield. I've always seen her as a brother in arms. She's pregnant because she helped me take care of a physical need. It was simple and practical. No strings attached." I let out a bitter laugh. Then I sent a messenger pigeon. "Fine. Then I'll find someone to help me out too."

My wife and I were both liars. She lied to me 99 times. "I'll forget all about him, I swear." That man was her first love. She never did forget about him. I only lied to her one time. To get her to sign the divorce papers. Time came to the final day of the cooling-off period. Three hours before it was up, I packed up all my stuff and bought a flight ticket to another country. Two hours before it was up, I cut up all my photos that had her in it, leaving only myself. One hour before it was up, I placed the divorce papers on the table. When she saw the papers, they drove her mad.