How Do I Check The Balance On A Gift Card For A Kindle?

Steal the CEO's Black Card... or His Frozen Heart? "Please... please, sir. I'm begging you. I didn't steal the card." Belle's trembling voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. "Believe me..." "You belong in prison, fraud!" the store manager spat, his eyes filled with contempt. Humiliated and surrounded by accusing stares, Belle could only clutch her worn bag and pray someone would listen. But no one did. After all, who would believe a poor medical student over the owner of a limitless Black Card? Belle had been fighting for survival ever since she lost her parents. An orphan with nothing but a dream. A dream of becoming a doctor. A dream she once shared with the parents she loved more than life itself. For years, she lived in a cramped room inside a rundown building. She endured hunger, sleepless nights, and the mockery of classmates who looked down on her faded clothes and worn-out shoes. Life had never been kind to her. Yet despite her hardships, she never stole. Never cheated. Never took what wasn't hers. So how did she end up accused of stealing the Black Card belonging to Ethan DelValle—the cold, powerful, and untouchable CEO everyone feared? The man who could buy anything he wanted. The man whose single word could ruin lives. And the man who, for reasons she couldn't understand, suddenly became interested in hers. What begins as a humiliating misunderstanding soon entangles Belle in Ethan DelValle's world—a world of wealth, power, secrets, and dangerous attraction. She never wanted his money. She never wanted his Black Card. But what happens when she accidentally steals something far more valuable? His heart.

Laila Jones has spent eight years building a quiet, beautiful life for herself and her daughter, Malaya. After her high school boyfriend caved to his racist grandfather and chose football and family approval over her and their unborn baby, Laila left Ohio, moved south, and raised Malaya on her own. Now Malaya is eight, there’s a daddy–daughter dance coming up, and her one Christmas wish is simple—and heartbreaking: she wants to meet her dad. Going home for the holidays was hard enough. Running into Jordan Hall, now the golden-boy quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals, is worse. He’s famous, gorgeous, and acting like he has the right to look at her with regret. Laila is ready to avoid him, yell at him, or both. What she doesn’t know is that after his grandfather’s death, Jordan discovered every letter she ever sent—proof that she kept their baby, begged him to come, and raised their daughter without him. The truth wrecks him, and this Christmas, he’s determined to fight for the family he should have had all along. But Laila isn’t interested in being anyone’s redemption arc. Especially not while his nasty fiancée is calling her a liar to the press and the internet is tearing her apart. As secrets unravel and emotions explode in front of cameras, Laila and Jordan have to decide what matters more: anger, pride, and old wounds…or the little girl who still believes Christmas wishes can come true.

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At that very moment, my sister posted photos on her social media of a first-class ticket to Iceland. It hit me then. Two identical cards, and only hers had ever held real money. For six straight years, my parents had played a worthless card to string me along — buying my youth, my obedience, my very self. If they couldn't keep things from tipping over, then I'd tear it all down myself. With my own two hands.

The night I got back from my work trip, the drugstore called—said my rewards card got declined that afternoon. I needed to reload it. Adrian was in the kitchen, laser-focused on dinner. I asked what he'd bought. He grinned, pulled out a box of supplements. "Been working late. Heart's been acting up, so I grabbed some support vitamins." I didn't say anything. He sighed, dug out a bank card. "I know you're all about money. Used your rewards card by accident. I'll pay you back ten times. Deal?" Normally, I'd take it. This time, I didn't. I just looked at him. "Let's get a divorce."

A drunk rich kid speeds down a pedestrian walkway and hits my daughter, shattering her femur and breaking multiple ribs. She hasn't woken up since. Now the boy's mother wants to settle. She sits across from me with her chin lifted and slides a settlement agreement across the table. "Ms. Carlisle, just sign it and don't hold up my son's future." Rage burns through every last shred of my composure. I grab the document and hurl it in her face. "Not a chance!" She doesn't even flinch. Her lips curl into a smirk, and she looks me up and down. "The law says you only have to pay about a million if you kill someone. Your daughter isn't even dead. I'm offering medical expenses plus two million dollars on top. How does that sound?" She pulls out a black card and holds it up like a trophy. "You probably don't even know what this is. It's a globally limited black card." My eyes land on it, and I recognize the pattern instantly because I had it custom-made as a birthday gift for my husband. A metallic taste rises in the back of my throat, but I force the blood down, every ounce of rage coiling behind my eyes. "How much is your son's life worth? Name the price. I'll buy it."

After I marry Yannick Harker, I become the laughingstock of Grisport. They call me the "Voucher Wife". Whether it is doctor's visits, meals, or even a pack of sanitary pads… I can only pay for them with vouchers that are only redeemable at designated stores. The Harkers impose an unwritten rule—every expense I incur must be approved by the female butler, Tracy Swain. The vouchers bearing her personal seal become my only source of money. On our wedding anniversary, I'm injured in a car accident and end up covered in cuts and bruises. But when I try to pay my medical bill, I'm told that every medical voucher I have is invalid. With nowhere else to turn, I ask Yannick for help, only to be met with his impatient refusal. He sneers, "You need money? Isn't the 200 thousand dollars in vouchers you get every month enough for you? Or is one of your relatives waiting in the operating room waiting to undergo surgery again? "Colette Skelton, you once put a price tag on yourself and sold yourself into the Harker family. But now, you're not even worth that much anymore." I know Yannick hates me. He hates me for demanding an extra one million dollars at our wedding. That has made him the laughingstock of the entire city for marrying a gold digger. So, Yannick cancels all my bank cards and cuts off every job opportunity I have. With those vouchers, he humiliates me openly without the slightest attempt to hide his overbearing ways. The glaring lights of the emergency room make my eyes sting until tears form. With the last valid voucher I have left, I exchange it for an abortion procedure. Later, Yannick finds me like a man possessed. With bloodshot eyes, he demands to know why. I calmly slide the remaining vouchers across the table to him. "Here's your 200 thousand dollars in vouchers. Yannick, I've settled my debt to you. From now on, we owe each other nothing."