The Sour Grape

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

My family owned Belgard Estate, a historic wine property that had recently gone viral after serving as the backdrop for a series of advertisements and product livestreams. On one occasion, my butler and I could not even enter the grounds. Influencers crowded the entrance, phones raised, security overwhelmed. My fiancée apologized. "The mayor wanted to borrow the estate, dear. I couldn't tell him no," she said. "Just bear with it for a while, okay? Once the trend dies down, I'll have them all cleared out. Trust me." I trusted her. I never raised the issue again. Some time later, my grandfather prepared to celebrate his 90th birthday. I returned to the estate to retrieve our finest vintage for the occasion, only to find myself nearly crushed by a shrieking crowd packed outside the gates. I slipped away and made my way to the back entrance after someone in the crowd called me a "free-riding bum." Bewildered, I was ready to present proof of ownership when a woman shouted over the noise, "Didn't you hear? Miss LePenn has already announced that Belgard Estate has been given to Jacques Martin! I don't care how big a fan you are of him. You still have to buy a ticket to see him like the rest of us!" I stood there, stunned. Jacques? The first man I had ever allowed to use this estate for a product livestream? It belonged to him now? And since when had Sylvia become the mistress of this place? Since when did she even have a boyfriend? Enough was enough. It was time to bring these people's business with Belgard Estate to an end.

Theo Oblinger can't be arsed to admit that he feels a bit stuck. At 26, he's in the middle of finishing his PhD, thinks love just isn’t for him and plays the piano at an exclusive Club during the weekends. On a bleak Saturday night, he meets the owner’s son, Sam Wilcox, who might just help him get out of that place.

Synopsis of The Last Straw of Love In the opulent world of high society, where power and wealth dominate every interaction, emotions are often a currency few can afford. Billionaire entrepreneur Alexander Cain is no stranger to calculated decisions. Cold, disciplined, and driven, he sees marriage as just another merger to secure his empire’s future. Enter Emilia Hart, a spirited but pragmatic artist from a struggling family, whose sense of duty outweighs her desire for freedom. Caught in the web of an arranged marriage orchestrated by their families, the two are into a relationship neither sought nor desired. At first, their worlds clash. Alexander’s demanding lifestyle and Emilia’s creative soul seem irreconcilable. He views her as a pawn in his greater plan; she sees him as the final chain in a life of obligations. But beneath their shared resentment lies an undeniable spark—a chemistry that defies logic. Slowly, as they navigate their shared existence, Alexander’s cold exterior begins to crack, revealing a man haunted by his past and desperate for connection. Meanwhile, Emilia discovers strength she never knew she had, standing firm against his control while uncovering the vulnerabilities he tries to hide. As love begins to bloom amidst the chaos, betrayal threatens to unravel everything. When secrets from Alexander’s ruthless business dealings come to light and Emilia’s trust is shattered, they must face the ultimate question: Is love worth the pain of risking it all? The Last Straw of Love is a rollercoaster of passion, heartbreak, and redemption—a journey through the complexities of love, where the final choice could mean everything or nothing at all. In a world where emotions are a luxury, can two souls from opposite worlds find a forever in each other?

Evan emerges after some time and notices that the room is empty, indicating that Bella has left, but the thrown money placing on the bed remains, and a note was on the table. He approaches the table and picks up the letter that was written on it. "You did the right thing by divorcing a whore like me." It was not just the words but something else that caught his attention and those were the Tear drops. This is the story of Bella and Evan, who were once a beautiful, loving husband and wife, and how they got caught in someone's web of hatred and disgusting lies and had to separate. Instead of love, their hearts were filled with hatred and misunderstandings. After two years of divorce, they came face-to-face once again, and both wanted to move on, but fate had something else in store for them. Soon they will face all the ugly truths, and will they be able to be together again? The journey from marriage to divorce, and then from hatred to love,