Who Published The PMBOK Guide Seventh Edition And When?

She married him to save her father’s company. ‎He married her to protect his inheritance. ‎It was only supposed to last one year. ‎No love. No feelings. No children. ‎But three weeks later, she finds out she is carrying his baby. ‎And the ruthless billionaire believes she planned it all.

Rudina, a woofless and mistaken Omega, has spent her entire existence being abused, ridiculed, and mistreated by her clan and her self-centered, prestigious parents. Who were the clan's Alphas and leaders, favoring their reputation over their offspring? They were fed up with Rudina and evicted her from the residence. Her boyfriend cheated on her with her younger sister, leaving her stranded and hoping for greener pastures on the other side, crushing and breaking her heart. Meeting her SEVEN MATES, who were full of passion and forbidden wants for her while also being the most heinous wolves on the planet, was not what she had planned for.

You think medical school is all anatomy labs and stethoscopes? Yeah, me too. That's what I signed up for. Instead, I got her. Or maybe, I got them. Orientation day. First hour. I was just trying to survive the college officer's speech about not doing drugs. Then the door opened. Three guys who looked like they bench-pressed fun. And a girl with the face of a doll and a voice that could make you forget your own name. Amaye. I had a boyfriend named Donald who was supposed to be in Europe, but he only called when I was about to make bad decisions. And I kept making them. Seven years of medical school. Seven years of tests, assignments, deadlines, and the hottest friend group on campus. I thought I was becoming a doctor. Turns out I was becoming something else entirely. This is my story. Or maybe it's a confession. I haven't decided yet. But I wrote it all down because someone needed to see med school through a different lens. I didn't see it through a lens. I lived it. #medical chaos #reverseharem #girlpower

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

After our company's IPO approval is granted, my boyfriend, Derek Calloway, finally agrees to publicize our relationship at the celebratory banquet. Derek and I have been in a relationship for seven years. For so long, he refuses to make our relationship official. He always cites the fact that office romance is forbidden in the company, and that he, as the CEO, should follow through as a prime example. On the night of the banquet, I wait for the news to be broken with bated breath and unadulterated delight. But when Derek stands on the stage, he chooses to utter the name of the new recruit who has just joined the company for two months—Jocelyn Grant. "It's all thanks to Jocelyn's contributions to the project that our company gets to go public. She's the MVP of our company." I just stand beneath the stage, completely stunned. For a moment, I don't know how to react. I'm the main person in charge of that project, and I'm the one who's contributed the most to that project. Not only have I stayed up countless nights working hard on it, but I also got hospitalized a few times because of it. Soon, I receive Derek's text message. "Jocelyn has just joined this line of work. She needs a project to help spruce her resume up. Just let her receive the credits this once. "We'll discuss more on publicizing our relationship in the future." I can only grip my phone so tightly that my fingertips go white. Finally, I key in one word. "Okay." Jocelyn can have the project. She can also have my position as the director. Heck, she's free to have Derek, my now ex-boyfriend. I'd like to see how these assholes can pass the subsequent trials without me.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife handed me a divorce agreement that was valid for seven days. She had fallen for a male intern at her company who was seven years younger than her. She wanted to experience what she called a proper romance with him, one that would last exactly seven days. On the first day, they booked an entire private cinema and made love to each other from the entrance to their seats. On the second day, they went to the seaside to set off fireworks, and the light spread across half the skyline of Veyron. On the fifth day, the intern burst into an art exhibition I hosted and cried in front of the entire press. He accused me of coming between them. That same evening, the story of a rising painter becoming a homewrecker for love reached the top of the trending searches, and the hate comments poured in. On the sixth day, my wife apologized to me on the intern’s behalf, and his punishment was a three‑day ban from shopping. On the seventh day, my wife finally sensed something was wrong. She called me ninety‑nine times and reminded me that we were supposed to reconcile the next day. I replied with a single “okay” and quietly told my assistant to arrange for my luggage to be shipped out. What she did not know was that seven days earlier, I had already made plans to go abroad to continue my studies. This time, I was done playing her game.