What Happens In 'Grandstanding: The Use And Abuse Of Moral Talk'?

After my granddaughter is bullied by her classmates, the bully's family not only refuses to apologize but behaves arrogantly as well. Since they have connections in the city, the school doesn't dare intervene. I turn to the police, but they only urge me to let it go. The bully's family even boasted that they have people in the court, daring me to sue them. With every path to justice cut off, I have no choice but to take out the two Medals of Honor left behind after my son and daughter-in-law died in service, and kneel at the gates of the military compound. Six years ago, when the general personally delivered those medals to our home, he'd said, "Your son and daughter-in-law gave their lives for the country. They are heroes, martyrs, and the pride of our nation." But now, I want to ask him again. Why is it that when a martyr's daughter is bullied, no one protects her?

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

My son, Archie Burton, has a bad habit of being painfully honest. I ask him, "Am I handsome?" "To be honest, Dad," he says, "you're the ugliest dad in the whole kindergarten." My mother-in-law tears into me for being a spendthrift after I buy Archie an expensive backpack, and I ask him how he feels about it. "Honestly," he says, "it makes me happy to watch you get chewed out." My wife asks him jokingly if he'll take care of me when I get old. "No way am I looking after him," he says. "When he gets old, he should just die." My heart sinks. But Archie just smiles. "I'm only telling the truth!" Then the police come by to conduct a census check and ask him a few simple questions. He is brutally honest as usual. Only this time, he regrets it for the rest of his life.

Left with nothing after her ex drains her savings, Gloria Williams is desperate... until Eleanor Montclair offers her a million dollars to marry her son, Gabriel, to help him secure his inheritance. The problem? Gabriel has no idea. But when a scandal forces them into a real marriage, Gloria is stuck with a cold, powerful husband who wants nothing to do with her. Gabriel hates her, sees her as a liar and gold digger, and the only way out is to prove she’s more than just part of his mother’s scheme… that she’s someone worthy of his love.

Grace Hale was raised to be untouchable—the flawless daughter of New York’s most powerful mayor, trained to smile, obey, and survive in silence. Dean Moretti didn’t believe in untouchable. He ruled the city from the shadows, a ruthless mafia heir whose world was built on blood, control, and calculated violence. When he decided Grace would be his wife, it was meant to be a transaction—leverage, protection, necessity. But Grace wasn’t fragile. And she wasn’t obedient. The closer Dean came, the more her perfect image fractured, revealing a woman bound by secrets, fear, and a loyalty that was slowly killing her. Desire ignited where it shouldn’t have. Lines blurred where power once ruled. And obsession turned dangerous when possession began to feel like devotion. Grace and Dean were pushed into a marriage they didn't completely understand, which had the potential to either free or destroy them. Because love blossomed in the dark, it demanded everything rather than asking for permission.

There had been a shortage of faculty at the start of the freshman year, so I had temporarily stepped in to take on the role of a student advisor. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I had deliberately dressed down in the plainest shirt I could find and put on a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses. However, a troublemaking student brought a group of people and blocked me on the field just as the opening ceremony ended. "Hey, old hag, you're done being a faculty member in Salt-U. How dare you dress like that on purpose to mess with my eyes! Strip and get on your knees, and I might let you off this once!" I narrowed my eyes, irritation rising. Then, I reminded him of the student code of conduct. He immediately blew up. "Cut the act! Who do you think you're fooling? My dad's the Director of Academic Administration! He's the one in charge of your evaluations!" The field suddenly fell silent, and all the freshmen began sneaking glances in our direction. I unhurriedly took off my glasses and let out a low chuckle as I looked down at the meeting notes in my hand. His father was a director, he thought that was enough of a reason for him to behave so imperiously. In that case, I supposed that the first item on the board meeting agenda that day would be the dismissal of the Director of Academic Administration.