Who Are The Main Characters In Charity?

"I told you to give up." He grabbed my wrist and twisted it, pulling me close with a tender smile. "I told you, you can't escape. You're cold. Were you chilled?" I answered with a venomous glare. "If you won't smile... I'd stitch your lips into one with a needle if I had to. I don't want to be rough. But why... does nothing ever go my way?" Even as I stayed silent, he muttered to himself as if used to it, then lifted the temperature-adjusted showerhead over my clothes. "Stop being so stubborn and talk to me already. I'm the one who's suffering here... Okay? Elias Reyes." Find out who the man is-who stole Elias 's memories and is holding him captive.

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.

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.

After my father died, the illegitimate daughter he had been raising abroad immediately returned to the country to fight me for the estate. Her name was Alma. I was his only legitimate child, and I even had a will on my side. However, I still failed to keep my rightful inheritance. My fiancé Wayne, who could command the entirety of North City with a flick of his wrist, insisted on helping Alma. He stood protectively in front of Alma’s wheelchair and asked me impatiently, “With the money I gave you, you could buy plenty of houses like that. Are you really so heartless? Why would you fight a disabled person over it?” I confronted him, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Fighting? That house is the only thing my mother left me.” In the end, Wayne helped Alma win the lawsuit. He looked at my red, swollen eyes with a trace of guilt and said, “Jocelyn, I’ll make it up to you in the future.” However, I knew then that there was no more future between us.

When I'm in my senior year of high school, my mom, Bethany Stout, is diagnosed with uremia. Even after our family sells the house, we are still 300,000 dollars short on the dialysis fee. I pack my bags overnight, ready to go to work on an assembly line at an electronics factory. The class belle, Natasha Ferris, grabs my shirt tightly at the train station ticket gate. She's someone who usually blushes even when speaking a little loudly, but that day she forces a bank card into my hand. "The password is your birthday. Consider the money a loan. You're not allowed to miss the SAT." I say I may never be able to pay this money back in my entire life. With red-rimmed eyes, she scolds me, "Then pay me back slowly, but you cannot ruin your life just like this." Throughout the four years of college, she transfers me 800 dollars for food every single month without fail, and the note is always "eat more meat". Mom survives the kidney transplant surgery, and I also secure a guaranteed admission and enter a top-tier company. But Natasha cuts off all contact without any warning. Eight years later, I am the youngest partner at the major company, with an annual salary of ten million dollars. Yet, Natasha's name appears in a mockery video of a local matchmaking group. "Not only is this woman already 30 years old and has a sick mother, but she's also demanding 100,000 dollars as a wedding gift? Is she crazy or what?" When I watch the person in the video wearing old clothes, head lowered while enduring people's criticism, my eyes sting with tears. I push aside the signing ceremony for a ten-million-dollar project and pick up the bank card and my Social Security card. This time, it is my turn to catch Natasha when she falls.

Stephen was getting hit by a shoe in the morning by his mother and his father shouting at him "When were you planning to tell us that you are engaged to this girl" "I told you I don't even know her, I met her yesterday while was on my way to work" "Excuse me you propose to me when I saved you from drowning 13 years ago," said Antonia "What?!? When did you drown?!?" said Eliza, Stephen's mother "look woman you got the wrong person," said Stephen frustratedly "Aren't you Stephen Brown?" "Yes" "And your 22 years old and your birthdate is March 16, am I right?" "Yes" "And you went to Vermont primary school in Vermont" "Yes" "Well, I don't think I got the wrong person, you are my fiancé" ‘Who is this girl? where did she come from? how did she know all these informations about me? and it seems like she knows even more than that. Why is this happening to me? It's too dang early for this’ thought Stephen