Who Said Iconic Cold-Hearted Quotes In TV Shows?

Alexander Harris has always been cold and indifferent—a ruthless CEO who values power over love. Haunted by a dark past and unable to bear a woman’s touch, he vowed never to fall for anyone. Until he met Everette Carson. From the moment their paths crossed, Everette challenged everything he believed in. When his grandmother threatened to give 15% of the company’s shares to his estranged father unless he marries, Alexander saw an opportunity. Everette’s fire, defiance, and beauty made her the perfect pawn for a marriage of convenience. Silencing his grandmother and putting Everette in her place? It was supposed to be the perfect plan. But nothing about her was ever simple. The more time he spent with her, the harder it became to keep his walls up. Everette’s warmth began to melt the ice around his heart—awakening memories of a mysterious girl from his past—the only soul who had ever touched his own. When the truth of their first meeting comes to light, Alexander realizes their bond was never coincidence. It was fate. Just as love begins to take root, long-buried secrets resurface. Dangerous enemies rise. And betrayal strikes from within. When Everette finally walked away to protect them both, Alexander broke—his desperation unraveling as he threatened to end his life. “Evie… if you walk away today, you will never have the chance to see me again in this life.” But she didn’t stop walking. The gunshot echoed across the runway. And nothing was ever the same again. Now, with everything on the line, fate brings them back together one last time. Will love be enough to heal what was broken, or are they destined to fall apart… all over again?

"You whore!" A masculine voice. "You philanderer!" A feminine voice. "I'll kill you in this house!" He bellowed as he charged straight to the woman and started beating her up. The little boy stood at the door and watched his parents go about their daily routine, tears spilled from his eyes. He stood in the shadows, just watching and crying. If he speaks out loud, they'll remember him and his father will beat him also. No one remembers him. Not unless they want to beat him too. Then he saw the blow, heard the awful sound. The blow that made a difference. The blow that made that day stand out from every other day. His mom stopped screaming, she laid there on the floor, staring into nothingness. Dead. "Gia." His dad paused mid-beating. No answer. "Gianna!" He patted her white arms turned red from being beaten. Terror filled the little boy's system, a sound escaped his mouth, drawing the man's attention. "Oops. I've forgotten about you." He said to the little boy. "Mom's dead..." The little boy said in a tiny voice. The man looked down at the lifeless white woman, "Seems like it." He looked at the boy with an eye filled with menace. "You'll pretend you didn't see a thing. You'll......" The siren rang outside. The police had arrived. A neighbour had alerted them when he heard the noise. He watched as the policemen pointed their guns at his father. He watched as they took his father away. He remained hidden, his blue eyes returning to the woman who laid on the floor, with eyes as blue as his. She was staring right at him. Finally, she sees him. Only in death, did she really see him. Something died in that little boy that day. Replaced with bitterness.

She was rejected. He was cheated on. He was cold. She was never the same. He was a Beta. She was a nobody. She was heartless. He gave her life meaning. They said she was colder than ice. But he didn't want her any other way.

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."

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

Every time I miscarry, Adrian Sadler brings home a new woman who eerily resembles his first love. He makes me put the rubber on him, forces me to watch their fevered passion, and then orders me to bring warm water for their intimate cleanup. I do everything I'm told, begging for just one night a month with him. That is, until I accidentally tear his favorite lover Peggy Olson's lingerie. That night, Adrian streams my humiliation for the world to see. He drags me onto the bed, twists my body to expose me fully to the camera, and pins me beneath an avalanche of shame. "Did you think her lingerie was suggestive? What about now? Look at yourself. Do you think you are any better? You love crawling into my bed, don't you? I'll help you get your fill. Maybe one man isn't enough to satisfy you. Why don't I call in ten men tomorrow?" As punishment, Adrian throws me outside, in my birthday suit, in the courtyard. Blood slowly pools beneath me. I experience my tenth miscarriage. I look for Derek Sadler and say, "I promised to help your family to repay your kindness. I tried my best. Ten miscarriages later, whatever blessing I once had is gone. I'll never have children again. Today, I've come to say goodbye."