What Happens In The Ending Of One Of Us: A Biography Of Margaret Thatcher?

I gave him nine years. Nine years of stretching every coin, raising our son alone, sleeping on my side of the bed because I could not bring myself to take his. Nine years of telling Dave his father was working hard so they could have a better life. I believed it myself. Until I saw him on a public street with his hand on another woman’s waist, looking at her the way I spent nine years waiting for him to look at me. When he crossed the pavement it was not to apologise. It was to tell me she was his wife. Six months married. He told me to keep things calm, walked back to her, and introduced me as his cousin. The divorce papers came that same night. I needed a job immediately. For my son. For the bills that would not wait for me to finish falling apart. So I pulled myself together the way I always do and kept moving. I did not expect Mac Harlow. I did not expect him to run three blocks to return my dropped folder or offer me a job despite his sister’s calls to have me removed. I did not expect his daughter to find my son within ten minutes and decide they were already family. I did not expect to discover that the man I was starting to trust was connected to everything I was trying to leave behind. He did not know. I believe that. But Marshall knows now that someone else sees what he threw away. And he wants it back. He is nine years too late. Mac is looking at me like I am worth staying for. Not fixing. Not managing. Staying for. I spent nine years being someone’s afterthought. Never again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Her father went missing when she was still young, and her mother eventually remarried. She lived in the countryside with her grandmother, where she was skilled in the art of truancy, fighting, and drinking. In others’ eyes, she was a mere ruffian.When she turned nineteen, her mother returned and took her to her stepfather’s home.“Eden, being able to marry Alain on behalf of your half-sister is a blessing to you, so you better seize this opportunity.”In her mother’s eyes, she was disposable in the name of wealth. She was nothing but a sacrificial lamb.It was already well-known that after having survived a serious illness, not only did his personality change, but he was also disfigured, with only two years left to live.But after they got married, he suddenly recovered from his illness, and great changes took the world by storm. It was not until someone started investigating a case from a few years ago that they accidentally revealed who his sorry excuse of a wife really was…Everyone was so shocked that they couldn’t keep their gaping mouths shut.She was an iron lady.

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.

When I found out my wife was hiding the divorce papers from me, I set up a car crash and pretended I had lost my memories. Naively, I thought this could save our seven-year marriage. But when Josephine Gillard found out I had lost my memories, I saw something called relief flicker in her eyes. Calmly, she told me, "We're siblings. Nothing more, nothing less. Even if we aren't related by blood." Before I could say a word, a nurse pushed open the door with a knowing smile. "Your husband and child are here, Dr. Gillard. Oh, I can't believe you're still so in love even after years of marriage." I was struck dumb. Only after Josephine left did I finally find the courage to speak. With a trembling voice, I asked the nurse, "How long has she been married?" The nurse looked envious. "Five years, and she just came back from maternity leave." While I was risking everything to save our marriage, she had already built another family behind my back.

He didn't love her, Not for one day. That was when she was married to him. Now they are divorced and he's crazy about her. He's about to be married to his childhood crush and highschool sweetheart but all he wants is the one he left behind. Will she give him another chance after he hurt her in the past? Will fate be on their side this time? Paparazzi, tabloids, crazy exes, rich in-laws, expensive wine and romance all in one. The One He Left Behind. Enjoy

My sister Brenda fell in love with Don Joseph Genovese because he saved her life once. She thought a man that dangerous had chosen her. Then she learned the truth. Joseph had only pulled her out of that riot because she looked like his wife, Maria, when Maria was young. Any sane woman would have walked away. Brenda decided Maria had to die. She tracked Maria’s schedule, planned a hit-and-run, and meant to play the heroic bystander after putting Joseph’s wife in the ground. If Maria was gone, Brenda believed she could take her place. In my first life, I stopped her. I knocked her out before she could make her move. I begged her to understand that Joseph was not some lovesick man from her mafia novels. He was a Don. If he found out, he would not just punish her. He would burn our whole family with her. Brenda cried. She nodded. She promised she understood. That night, she poured paraquat into my water glass. As I died, she whispered, “You ruined my shot at the big life, Sharon. So I ruined yours.” Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day she made her move. This time, I stayed where I was.