A Vow Of No Forgiveness

My four-year-old son dies after someone crashes into him with a motorcycle. The culprit is a college freshman who's just been admitted. I'm devastated, but my husband generously forgives her. "We have to give her a chance since she's such an outstanding student. She's still young—we can't ruin her future." Ha. She has plenty of opportunities and a bright future ahead of her. What about my son? He was only four. Later, I rip his letter of forgiveness to pieces before his face. He wants me to forgive the young lady? No way in hell!

The last time I argued with my husband, he slammed the door on me and left. I was so upset that I died from a heart attack. Meanwhile, he took his lover and her son traveling to take his mind off things. The entire time, our daughter, who was just a child, was abandoned at home for seven days with my corpse. At last, when Eliott remembered me and my daughter, he returned home to see my corpse. Having fallen sick, my daughter was all skin and bones. When Eliott realized his mistake, he hugged our daughter tightly and broke down crying in front of my grave. My daughter pulled away from him and hid behind my gravestone. She hissed sharply at him, “Who do you think you are? Don't disturb Mommy’s rest!”

They say Don Julian Marconi would burn the world for one tear of mine. Five years ago, at the Met Gala, he spent millions to hang emeralds around my neck and swore I was his Madonna. Five years later, beneath the velvet boxes of our anniversary, I found a lace strap soaked in sin—and a fresh, crimson smear on his collar that told me exactly whose bed he’d left. I smiled. I asked him to sign a blank sheet of paper. And that meant he was agreeing to whatever I wanted. He called it love. I called it the death warrant for his empire. In fifteen days, I finalized our divorce papers. I boarded the Stella d’Oro as Serena Cole and burned Celeste Marconi to ash on the deck. Then I vanished with his fortune, his power and the one secret that would destroy him. I was the saint he worshipped. Now I am the ghost who haunts him. No groveling. No forgiveness. No second chance. Just ashes.

My name is Cassie Aster. I was born Cassandra Burton. I wasn’t born rich, or with a powerful name. But I was born smart—some would say lucky. At fifteen, I entered a contest for a scholarship to the most prestigious school in the country: Aster Academy of Excellence. Out of more than four hundred applicants, only five were chosen. By sixteen, I was walking through its gates. That’s where I met him—Jacob Aster. The son of the school’s owners. The heir to one of the wealthiest families on Earth. I fell for him immediately, but I rejected him—over a hundred times. My studies, my scholarship, my future came first. To him, that meant only one thing: he had to buy my love. Over a decade later, we’re married. And to the world, I’m the luckiest girl alive—proof that fairy tales come true. From rags to riches, just like that. But I never thought of myself as having only rags. And I didn’t marry him for his riches. Still, every time he strays, he buys my forgiveness—for $100,000. For him, I gave up my career. For him, I live like a caged bird, taken out only for display. For him, I die a little every day. Every time my card doesn’t decline, my heart does. Most of his women at least have the shame to stay out of my sight. But not her. Coral Monroue is shameless. He favors her now. And I can’t help but wonder— will she be the one who finally pushes me to leave?

A business man in search of power. A woman forced to lie. A man who can’t escape himself. A love turned sinister… Hazel lives everyday like her last, she stays out of trouble and takes life as it comes, accepting every cruel hit as her fate. But her simple life quickly becomes something complicated when she’s ambushed and finds herself tangled in the devil’s lair, with his cold dark eyes staring down at her. Christian Walker only cares about two things; his daughter and his money. Despite being Seattle’s most eligible bachelor, he draws a clear line between his private life and women. But the lines are quickly blurred when Hazel comes into the picture. Just how thin is the line between love and hate?

My husband used to love me so much. Back then, he proposed 99 times just to marry me. It wasn't until the 100th proposal that I was finally moved by his persistence and became the envied Mrs. Frederick Morrison of Harbor City. On our wedding day, I gave him 99 reconciliation vouchers. We agreed that as long as these vouchers weren't used up, I would stay by his side forever. … It's been five years since then. Every time Frederick goes out to see another woman, he uses up one reconciliation voucher. Gradually, he suddenly notices that I've changed. I no longer cry or beg him to stay. Only when he loses his mind over his innocent secretary again do I quietly ask him, "Frederick, if you don't come back tonight, can I use a reconciliation voucher?" He pauses mid-step, then immediately turns. "Of course." He thinks he still has many reconciliation vouchers. He doesn't realize this is his last one.