How Does Gloves Off By Stephanie Archer End, And Who Survives?

On the day Winter Everhart suffers a miscarriage, her husband, Joshua Stroud, and their son, Terence, are out with his beloved Jessica Lynch. They watch the very performance Winter has always loved. "You're just so unreasonable. What's the point of all this?" "Dad, can you get me a new mom? She's so annoying!" On Winter's birthday, she returns from the hospital only to find Joshua celebrating Jessica's instead. Even Terence, the child she nearly gave her life to bring into the world, pledges to protect the woman who has stolen everything from her. Tears glisten in Winter's eyes as she smiles. Then, with quiet resolve, she walks away from the cage of a marriage that has bound her for five years. Joshua and Terence believe she won't survive without the Stroud family. What they don't expect is that she rises so high that they can no longer reach her. "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud's car design is now number one nationwide—Stroud Group has been completely outshone!" "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud has just won the World Championship in Artificial Intelligence Design!" "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud has been invited by a foreign president to attend a state banquet!" Regret tears Joshua apart. Dragging Terence with him, he kneels before Winter and pleads, "Honey, please give me another chance! If being your servant is what it takes, I'll do it!" But just beyond the door, a strikingly handsome man kneels on one knee, a leather collar fastened around his neck. Twining a diamond leash around Winter's palm, he vows with his gaze burning with feverish devotion, "My master, from this moment on, I bow to no one but you. Please, take me in."

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

After a venomous snake bites me, my husband, Daniel Dawson, injects the only antivenom into my adopted sister, Grace Winton. Before I black out, I see my parents, Daniel, and my son, Ethan Dawson, all gathered around Grace, while I lie alone on the grass, completely ignored. When I come to, my colleague shakes his head and tells me the toxin has already spread. Within 48 hours, my body will begin to rot from the inside, and I'll die in unbearable pain. I give up the conservative plan and swallow a potent painkiller instead. Over the next two days, I transfer the hospital my grandfather gave me and every asset in my name to Grace. I divorce Daniel and place both his and Ethan's hands into Grace's. When I put Grace's name on the amyotrophic lateral sclerosis treatment protocol I've spent five years developing, they finally smile, hold my hand, and tell me we're finally a real family. I stay silent and only smile at them. I wonder what their faces will look like two days later when they see my body.

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure. However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead. One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair them off." Just like that, Iver and I signed the marriage papers. Our married life consisted of maxing out my second brother's credit cards, raiding my older brother's dinner table, and waiting for his sisters to show up with care packages. That was the routine, until my older brother sent us to attend a banquet at the Crestport tycoon's estate in his place. At the banquet, the tycoon's daughter, Portia Beaumont, waved around a blurry photo taken from behind and insisted I was the other woman who had stolen her boyfriend. I kept my temper. "You have the wrong person. I'm married, and this is my husband." Portia lost it on the spot and swung at me. "Married and still out here throwing yourself at men?" Iver stepped in front of me on instinct and took the slap meant for me. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. She sneered, "Oh, is he slow? His wife's out cheating and he can't even tell, but he still jumps in to protect her? One's a tramp, and the other's an idiot. The perfect match!" She flicked her wrist, and several bodyguards lunged toward us. "Get them both." My heart ached as I looked at Iver, and I dialed my older brother's number. "Someone's picking on me." These people had no idea. Crossing the four terrors of Kingsgate and living to tell about it was one thing. Messing with the two of us was something else entirely.

On my birthday, my fiancé used his supermarket points to get me a pair of dishwashing gloves. But at an auction, he bought a five-million-dollar gem for his first love. I was mad, confronting him, but he called me a gold digger. "I've been giving you money to spend. Isn't it only right that you take care of me? This was supposed to be my final test for you. If you passed, we'd get married. You've let me down big time." I broke up with him. He turned around and proposed to his first love. Five years later, we ran into each other on a private vacation island. Alex Thompson saw me in the workers' uniform picking up trash on the beach. He mocked me on the spot. "You turned your nose up at the gloves I got you, and here you are, scavenging garbage. Now, even if you begged me, I wouldn't give you a second glance." I ignored him. My son's social studies project was to clean up the backyard with a parent. His dad had expanded the yard all the way to the beach. Cleaning it up was exhausting.