Comment Contester Une Distribution De Juré N° 2 ?

Seven years ago, Elara Vance was a ghost in her own marriage. Married to Charlie Vane the man she saved from a frozen lake as a child she lived in the shadow of her sister, Lydia, who had stolen credit for the rescue. Framed for theft and "paralysis" by her sister and kicked to the mud by her father, Elara was discarded like trash. Now, she’s back. She isn't just a woman with a secret son; she’s the CEO of a global empire that just bought Charlie’s debt. He’s looking for a $10 million heir, unaware that his true legacy is the boy he called a "bastard." Elara is here for more than an apology she’s here to take everything

The first thing my brother did after returning from his studies in Europe was drag me before the family council. I ran the rundown bar our Capo father left me, stocking shelves at dawn and scrubbing counters past midnight. I even took on debt from loan sharks to keep him afloat. "Just one last time," he always promised over the phone. "I'll pay you back once I marry rich." But today, a summons from the family arrived at his request. It demanded I be stripped of my birthright and forced to hand over the bar and our territory. My phone pinged. A photo flashed on the screen: my brother in a silk shirt, sitting close to a woman, her hand digging into his thigh. The message followed: Meet my fiancée, the daughter of the Valenti family boss and their Chief Legal Counsel. She says you don't stand a chance. I stared at that hand for a long, long time. Then I crouched down and pried open the hidden compartment beneath the bar.

I've just finished collecting rent from a building when Mom calls me on the phone. She tells me that the Jensens' estranged real heiress, Sienna Jensen, has finally reunited with them. I pack up my account ledgers immediately before heading over to attend Sienna's welcome home party. But as soon as I reach the gate, my car is stopped right outside. Apparently, I'm not allowed entry into the Jensen residence. Hatred crosses Sienna's eyes when she spots my car. "You're nothing but a thieving impostor! How dare you make a flashy appearance while driving a car that belongs to my family!" I take a deep breath and explain coolly, "This is my car. I don't know what you're talking about." The next thing I know, Sienna grabs a ledger and hurls it at my face. She screams at me, "You used my family's money to buy this car, and yet you have the gall to claim that it's yours? "I'm my mother's actual child, and yet you've leeched all the good things from my family, you filthy bitch! I'll have you know that the hardships that Mom went through for nine months of pregnancy will be converted into a maternity fee of a million dollars! Now hurry up and transfer the payment to Mom's bank account!" I merely sneer at Sienna before pulling out my phone and calling her mother, Molly Dawson, "Your daughter demands that I give you a million dollars' worth of maternity fees. Do you even have the guts to accept the payment?"

I've invested in my cousin, Jack Glenwood's farm. His net profit is more than four million dollars per year. On the day I'm supposed to receive my bonus, Jack tears the contract stating that I get a 55% profit share right in front of my family. After that, he transfers 40 thousand dollars to me. He even has the audacity to pat me on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "Noah, you never did anything throughout the year. Since I'm giving you 40 thousand dollars, that means I'm treating you well, right?" I just smile as I look at Jack's greedy and despicable expression. Then, I accept the 40 thousand dollars without saying anything. The next day, I cut off the secret formula to the farm's feed and travel overseas to carry out a new round of investments. This time, I want to see how Jack will fare without my secret formula.

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

When Asher Terrell's family crumbled into bankruptcy, I stood steadfast by his side. We lived in a dank basement, where I toiled through three jobs to help clear their crushing debts. He bounced back and proposed, promising me a true home. Three years into our marriage, I discovered the deed to our house bore the name of his first love. "This is what I owe her," he confessed. Swallowing my pain, I nodded and pushed forward a photo from back when we were crammed in that basement, with a whole table piled high with debt notices. "You've paid your debt to her with our house," I said. "But what about the debt you owe me?"