How Many Episodes Are In Outlander Season 7

"Yes, us. I don't want to marry you," Luna stated, her gaze fixed on Lucas's face, devoid of expression. "So, you're going to marry the pianist then?" Lucas guessed, causing Luna to become more certain that the man in front of her was already aware of everything. "Of course. I love him, so I will marry him," Luna replied, observing Lucas's reaction carefully. "But this time, I need this marriage," Luna continued, dismissing Lucas's scoffing smile. "And?" Lucas asked. "We'll make a prenuptial agreement," Luna declared. "Do you think I'll agree?" Lucas responded dismissively. "You have to agree. Whether you like it or not, we're going to make a prenuptial agreement," Luna insisted, prompting a threatening smile from Lucas. "Luna Estrada, you're too confident. Do you think I'd agree to this marriage? I even declined it," Lucas replied, belittling her. "We're not going to make a prenuptial agreement because we're never going to get married," Lucas added, causing Luna to clench her fists as if she had been rejected by the man before her. How could Luna Estrada face rejection? She couldn't allow it to happen. "Hahahahah." Luna forced a laugh, attempting to make it sound mocking to Lucas, although at this moment, she wished she could throw her heel at Lucas's head. "Then why did your grandfather force my grandfather to persuade me to accept this marriage, huh?" Luna said with traces of laughter in her voice, emphasizing each word. "Are you serious?" Lucas asked, his face showing mockery. "Didn't you ask your grandfather who would marry you? Weren't you suspicious? Who knows, maybe your grandfather was referring to my own grandfather, trying to match us," Luna's inner thoughts raced, attempting to calm herself.

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

There was only one week left until my marking ceremony with Alpha Mason Wright. And this time, he was asking to postpone it yet again, all because his puphood sweetheart, Eira Padmore, the she-wolf who once saved his life, had another episode. She was in tears, begging to go to Bhador to see the snow, just like every time before, claiming she wouldn't be able to breathe otherwise. The ceremony had already been pushed back three times. All the wolves of the north had been waiting for us to complete it. But I was done waiting, and so was the pup growing inside me. If Mason refused to mark me, then I'd walk away and build my own future. But what I couldn't understand was... Why was it that the moment I left, Mason went mad searching for me, and suddenly insisted on marking me after all?

For eight years in a marriage devoid of light, I had abortions five times. Every time, Sam would grip my hand when I woke up, his eyes red, and promise to find the best doctors to help me recover. After the third miscarriage, he finally hired a team of top-tier nutritionists, ensuring that every single meal was planned perfectly. He always comforted me, "Don't worry, Penny. We're still young, so we can have another baby!" When I found out I was pregnant again, snowflakes were dancing outside my window. I wrapped my fur coat tightly around my body and rushed to the company, only to hear Wren's furious voice outside the VIP suite, "Are you insane? Those five babies were your own flesh and blood!" Sam replied coldly, "Nicole needs specimen for her experiments. All I'm doing is providing her with the materials she needs." His words dug into my heart like icy spikes, and I could even hear my own bones cracking. "As for Penelope…" He chuckled. "Do you think that our marriage certificate is the real deal?" Snowflakes stung my face like needles, and I finally found out the truth about our marriage. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a living test subject for the woman he truly loved. Sam was right. Those unborn children never even had legal identities, and were worth less than a piece of paper, just like my so-called marriage. Glass shattered from inside the room, and I could hear Wren cursing, but I turned and walked towards the elevator. Since Sam's priority was Nicole and nothing else, I was hell-bent on making him pay the price.

At the annual company raffle, I had barely stepped onto the stage when my supervisor, Lily Smith, pressed a crumpled slip of paper into my palm. "A special reward for our top salesperson," she chirped. "Go ahead, open it. Let everyone see." Under the eager gaze of the crowd, I unfolded the note. Written in messy handwriting were the words: Clean the company toilets for three days. The room erupted in laughter. Lily folded her arms, cocked her head, and smirked at me. "Nice, right?" she said. "Everyone knows those sales of yours came from sleeping with old men. Dirty money. To keep things fair, the others get a break, and you pick up a little extra work. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" The laughter surged again, nearly lifting the roof. From the side of the room, my boyfriend, Seth Hoffman, the company's CEO, watched everything unfold. As usual, he said nothing in my defense. They all thought I would fall apart, cry, or make a scene. Instead, I simply gave a calm nod. The very next day, the company was hit with over three hundred property cancellations. Its cash flow collapsed overnight. That was when Lily and Seth rushed to me, demanding I go plead with the buyers. I smiled and said, "No thanks. I wouldn't want to help the company recover and end up with strong numbers again. That might make everyone even more uncomfortable."

"Ms. Harris, you're already six months pregnant. The baby is fully formed... Are you sure you want to go through with the abortion? The hospital strongly advises against it." The doctor said hesitatingly. Phoebe Harris instinctively placed a hand over her swollen belly. Six months. The child had grown inside her, from something no bigger than a grain of rice to the size it was now. They say a mother and her child share an unspoken bond, and she could feel it too. If she weren't utterly broken inside, what mother would ever have the heart to give up her baby who was about to enter the world? After a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Phoebe took a deep breath. Then, with a resolve that left no room for doubt, she said, "I'm sure."