Is Peanut And Butter Based On A True Story?

All I did was grab an extra bottle of water after getting back from a field assignment. That was enough for the new finance manager to call me out in front of the entire office. “Claire, do you have any shame? You bring in nothing every month, live off base salary, and still think you can take advantage of the company? “Transfer ten thousand into the team penalty pool. That’s your fine.” I looked at her for a moment, then said calmly, “Who do you think you are? If anyone’s going to fine me, Adrian can say it to my face.” What she didn’t know—I wasn’t only the company’s top dealmaker, but also Adrian’s wife. Eight years. A secret marriage no one knew about. Was he really going to take her side instead of standing up for me? The answer came fast. “Claire, just do what Rebecca says. It’s not a big deal. Don’t be petty.” I let out a quiet laugh. Then I looked him straight in the eye. “Adrian, if you think I’m petty… “I’ll request a full AI payroll audit. “Let’s see who really owes whom.”

For five years, I have seen Leo Belmonte—the Don’s heir—as the only light in my life. On the day of my wedding dress fitting, he smiled and told me I was only a stand-in for his untouchable first love, Mia. Now that the real thing was back, I was supposed to step aside—go underground, follow my mother's path, and be somebody's mistress like she had been. The bridal fastenings cut my palms bloody, and all he cared about was the dress. His precious Mia ran me down on the highway in her car, and he warned me not to call the police—held my mother's ashes over my head to keep me in line. When the whole internet was calling me a homewrecker, it was him who nailed me to the pillar of shame with his own hands. The night I finally gave up, I boarded the Deluca family's private helicopter. That was when they learned the truth—I was no homeless bastard daughter. I was the only heir the most powerful Don in Europe had been searching for all these years. Once, I saw him as my light. Now he kneels at my feet and begs forgiveness, and all I feel is disgust. One day soon, I would stand at the top of the underworld—somewhere he could never reach again.

I was born with a cursed tongue. The words I said came true. So as soon as I understood what that meant, I stopped speaking. For more than twenty years, I never said another word. Then my six-year-old son knocked his pregnant aunt over by accident, and my husband sent him to a kennel. My son had been bitten by a dog before. He was terrified of them. I begged. I went down on my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor until it was bleeding. Connor Grant lifted his sister-in-law Camille Lane up off the ground, ran a tender hand over her swollen belly, and his voice came out cold. "Don't think I can't see what's behind this. He did it because you put him up to it. You're a calculating little mute. He has your filthy blood in his veins. If we don't break him now, he grows up worthless." "Send him somewhere that knows how to teach a child his place. Teach him how things rank in this house. And teach you, while we're at it. Don't touch what isn't yours." By the time I found my son, he was in a cage with five vicious dogs. There was almost nothing left to hold. I pieced the small body back together. I opened my mouth for the first time in over twenty years, and the first words I had spoken in my life were: "Connor Grant. Blood for blood. I will see this house buried."

My mother-in-law and I were traveling together. We'd just checked into the Solenne Hotel in Rivera City and decided to hit the pool. Then this woman—dressed like money and attitude—pinched her nose like we stank. "This is a luxury hotel. How did you people even get in? Sneak in just for the pool? Ugh, I need a test after this." Buzzkill. I snapped, "It's a hotel pool. Guests swim. If that's a problem, go build your own." Her face twisted. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am? My husband owns this place. We always stay in the top suite. So get out. You reek of broke. You're contaminating the water." Georgina and I traded a look. Ice cold. This was her son's hotel. My husband's. Since when did he come with a second wife?

During a maritime rescue, my in-laws were trapped aboard a sinking vessel. I personally led my husband, Adrian Cole, captain of the rescue team, straight to their location. They were seconds away from launching the operation when Vanessa Tate looped an arm around his neck and said with a smile, “I heard there are two very important people on that ship. If I’m the one who brings them out, I could earn a second-class medal.” She leaned closer, half teasing, half coaxing. “Help me out this one time. Do that, and I’ll call you Daddy for the rest of my life.” Adrian raised a brow and let out a laugh. “You’d better mean it. Because I’m taking you up on that.” Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he ordered the rescue boat to turn around. I froze, then shouted after him, “Adrian, Mom and Dad are still trapped in there. Are you seriously leaving them to die?” He shoved me aside, his expression turning cold with impatience. “Claire, think about what matters most. Your parents can swim and hold on a little longer until another team gets there. But if Vanessa misses this chance, she may never get another shot at that medal.” My blood ran cold. Yes, my parents could swim. But the people trapped inside that vessel were not my parents. They were his. And they were the two “important people” Vanessa had been talking about all along.

I'm born with a curse, so I never speak another word since I'm old enough to be understanding. Since my six-year-old daughter, Jada Westfield, accidentally knocks over my sick older brother, Cain Westfield, my wife, Serena Harlow, sends her to a dog-training facility immediately. Jada has gotten bitten by dogs in the past, so she's extremely terrified of them. I do everything I can to stop Serena from sending Jada there—even resorting to groveling in front of her, my forehead sticky with blood—yet Serena never spares a glance in my direction. Instead, she helps Cain up to his feet and gently pats the dust off his pants. But the moment she speaks up, her voice is glacial and ruthless. "Don't think I can't tell that Jada did this because you've been secretly grooming her to do so. You're an extremely manipulative mute, after all. Your dirty blood courses through Jada's veins as well. If I don't start teaching her a lesson at an early age, she will eventually grow up as a pathetic loser. "I'm sending her to the facility so that she can learn the rules of this world. She will learn that seniority takes precedence over everything. This also serves as a lesson for you to never harm the person you aren't supposed to engage with!" I finally find Jada, who has gotten trapped in a cage filled with a dozen rabid mutts. Her body has already been torn into pieces. I suppress the pain in my heart as I put pieces of Jada together like a jigsaw puzzle. After more than 20 years, I finally utter my first sentence. "Serena Harlow, I want you to pay the price with your blood, and I want you to lose everything you have in life."