Why Did They Pick The Wrong Women In The Movie?

Nathan Morrison is a hero who emerged victorious from a bloodbath and a general loved by the whole country. Suzanne York is a terrible woman with a horrible reputation who's undeserving of him, yet she ends up as his wife.There's another problem—some other woman holds Nathan's heart. He doesn't love Suzanne.She doesn't want to struggle and be tormented in a loveless marriage, so she throws him a divorce agreement. "Let's get divorced."Nathan can't be bothered. "I'm too busy for that."Suzanne leaves without another look back. When she appears in public again, she's now a genius scientist, philanthropic artist, and the daughter of the wealthiest man alive.She stuns the world with her identities, but Nathan remains scornful … until one day when a considerable conspiracy is unveiled."General Morrison, the woman you've loved for years is your ex-wife. You've had the wrong person this whole time!"Nathan's eyes turn red with insanity. When he finally tracks her down, almost half out of his mind, he claims, "You're the one I've always loved, my dear. Let's remarry!"

"Jennifer, let's get divorced. The Lance family won't have a soiled woman as its matriarch."Two years after their marriage, Maxwell Lance throws a divorce agreement in Jennifer Yale's face. She understands that it's because he wants to give his first love her rightful title. In his eyes, Jennifer's nothing but a flawed product who's already been soiled by another man."You can dream on, Maxwell. For as long as I'm alive, that woman won't step foot in here!"Jennifer's refusal to get a divorce leads to her family's bankruptcy and her father's horrible end. Finally, her heart dies. Maxwell's life becomes void of her presence.On the day of Maxwell's wedding to his first love, his subordinate suddenly tells him, "You've got the wrong woman, Mr. Lance. Your ex-wife's the woman from that night!"

To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had no choice—I cut off all her clothes. My clueless new wife, Dana Poole, blasted it online. She cried as she faced me. "Why not at least leave her underwear on? You were saving her, I get it—but did you have to take everything? Doesn't a girl's dignity matter? With cameras everywhere, how is she supposed to live after this? You couldn't even cover her up?" The backlash exploded. The unit benched me to calm things down. So I stopped caring. I followed procedure, no improvising, no extra effort. Then one day, at the busiest mall in the city, Dana's mom got strapped into a brand-new linked bomb. This time, the whole unit panicked.

The night my husband came home from another flight smelling of another woman's perfume, one question was taking over social media. "Where have all the homemaker over forty-seven gone? "If life as a homemaker is so wonderful, why doesn't anyone ever speak up about it?" My husband, an international airline captain with over a million followers, signed us up for a livestream. He wanted me to prove that homemaker hadn't vanished. According to him, they were simply loved, protected, and cherished by their husbands. He was certain I'd play along. After all, for 22 years, I'd been the perfect wife. Even when my swollen joints hurt so much I could barely hold a spatula, I still washed his uniforms and made sure dinner was waiting when he got home. Even when he walked through the door carrying another woman's perfume, I would only touch my wedding ring and tell myself the same lie. "He's just having a little fun. In the end, he'll always come back to me." On the day of the livestream, he smiled at the camera and told everyone how happy our marriage was. I was in the kitchen baking, carrying dish after dish to the table. Then the host asked me one simple question. "Would you want your daughter to grow up to be the homemaker as you?" My husband smiled and typed his answer onto the teleprompter for me to read. "Of course." I walked into the frame with the last dish in my hands. I looked straight into the camera. "No," I said. "I wouldn't."

"That b*tch messed with the wrong wife!" An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Hell hath no fury than... A Woman Scorned!

Growing up, my younger sister Nina was always the one my family loved most. She got the best room, the prettiest dresses, the first apology, and every gentle word my parents had to give. I was the older daughter, so I was expected to give in. Then I met Henry Vale. On the night he proposed, he held my hand and told me he would love me for the rest of his life. For the first time, I thought someone had finally chosen me. I thought I had found true love. Until the day I tried on my wedding dress. Nina said she wanted to come with me and help me choose. When I stepped out of the fitting room, I saw her standing in front of Henry, adjusting his tie like she was the one about to marry him. I was about to say, “Let me do it.” But the stylist had already walked toward her with a smile. “The bride, this way, please.” The photographer took ninety-nine photos that day. Every single one was of my sister and my fiancé. Not one showed me, the actual bride. My mother sat on the sofa and smiled. “Nina looks beautiful in white.” My father nodded. “More like a bride than Jocelyn.” Then the photographer lifted his camera and glanced at me from behind the lens. “Miss, could you move a little? You are blocking the light.” I stepped aside in silence and stood against the wall. In that moment, I finally understood. This wedding did not need me. And if the love Henry once promised me could be handed to someone else so easily, then leaving was the only dignity I had left.