I Bring Nothing To The Table

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

He was, and had nothing when I met him. He was a terribly poor dreamer, and all he had was smooth words and endless promises. I gave up everything for him, including my family’s wealth, my privileged life, my identity as an heiress. I hid who I really was just to help him climb the ladder, brick by brick, until his name shone like gold. Our empire was built on my sacrifices. And how did he repay me? By throwing me away like a piece of used, wet tissue. By parading his new fiancée in my face and sneering, “Don’t you think I’m out of your league now?” He thought he could erase me. He thought he could take my love, my labor, my loyalty…and bury me like garbage. But he forgot one thing. I’m not just a girl he used. I’m an heiress. The gold in his pocket? The power in his hands? The empire on his shoulders? All of it came from me. Now I’ve returned to the world I left behind, with bodyguards at my side, a new fiancé chosen by my family, and more power than he could ever dream of. And when he calls me a gold digger? I’ll smile and remind him of the truth… “Gold digger? No. I’m the gold maker. And without me, Mr. Billionaire, you are nothing.”

I arrived at yet another family gathering to see Declan Mercer's assistant sitting in my seat. I turned to him. "She's sitting in the hostess's seat. Do you really have nothing to say?" He looked at me like I was wasting his time. "You showed up late, so don't blame her for taking your spot. There's an empty seat right there. You can sit there, or you can get out." I was about to respond when Declan's inner voice flooded my head. "Come on, babe. Get mad already. "Tell me you need me. Tell me you want to sit next to me. "Prove to me that you love me. That's the only way I'll feel secure." This time, I did not give his inner voice what it wanted. I simply looked down and slid the ring off my finger. "If there isn't a place for me at this table, then I suppose I'm not needed here anymore. "Let's get a divorce."

Ever felt being just a white paper having nothing written? Or a white crayon? Like feeling useless? Cause I do. I'm Amira. A Blank Canvas.

My boyfriend, Aiden Ramsey, loses a game of Truth or Dare during a party. Someone dares him to say ten good things about my best friend, Natalia Williams. Aiden doesn't hesitate at all when he answers, "She's pretty, bubbly, has a great figure, knows how to play coy, loves to smile, has a high EQ, is independent, and has a good sense of aesthetics. Also, she's very good at making other people happy." Natalia picks Aiden again in the next round. She smiles and says, "Tell us about Sylvia's good qualities." Aiden is stunned for a few seconds as he looks at me. In the end, he finally answers, "She's understanding." Someone smiles and tries to smooth over the situation by asking, "What else?" Aiden frowns, seeming to be deep in thought. However, he's unable to come up with another good thing about me. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washes over me as the awkward silence stretches on. Aiden and I have been dating for seven years. We're going to get married soon. However, even after mulling over his thoughts for such a long time, the only good thing that he can say about me is that I'm understanding. I decide that I'm not going to be understanding anymore.

My boyfriend pulled in two million a year. He told me that once he'd banked five hundred thousand, he'd invest in my gallery. Year one, he said the startup was bleeding money; he hadn't saved a cent. Year two, he needed a new car to keep up appearances; no funds for me. By year five, he was on his private yacht brokering a major deal and told me not to bother him. I stood outside the cabin door and listened to the laughter rolling out from inside. "If Celeste wanted to open a gallery, Eth would write her a million-dollar check without blinking." "Hell yeah. If Celeste hadn't gone abroad back then, that knockoff he's got now wouldn't even be in the picture." Ethan's voice drifted through the crack in the door, lazy, dismissive. "Enough. Emily's been with me five years. I'll still put something in for her." "She's a free drafting machine. She's not worth five hundred grand. One day's revenue at the firm, maybe. Call it round. Two thousand bucks." My eyes burned. I pulled out my phone and called the one man Ethan hated most in all of New York, Adrian Sterling. "Mr. Sterling. That partnership agreement you offered me? I'm signing it first thing tomorrow morning."