Who Wrote He Celebrates When Daughter Is Hurt Originally?

For five long years, Gwen believed she was living a life of love, marriage, and family. But her reality was a carefully constructed lie, manipulated by a cruel narcissist and a vengeful enemy. Forced to embrace false memories, she married Mason Burkely, a man whose obsession and violence left her bruised, both in body and soul. Even her daughter, Kayla, suffered at the hands of the very man she was supposed to call “dad.” When Adrian Salvador, the love Gwen thought she had lost forever, reenters her life, the truth begins to surface. With the help of the wise and enigmatic Doctor Liang, Gwen starts reclaiming memories stolen from her, uncovering the horrors she endured and the manipulations that defined her supposed life. But remembering comes at a cost. Gwen is haunted by betrayal, abuse, and the knowledge of the child she carried and lost because of Mason. As darkness and fear threaten to consume her, she must confront her trauma, face her abuser, and navigate the complex emotions of love, trust, and desire, especially with the man who truly belongs in her heart. A Kiss For Every Bruise is a story of survival, resilience, and reclamation. A journey through pain, lies, and heartbreak toward healing, justice, and the rediscovery of love that was never truly lost.

“You still got time to change your mind about this and leave like nothing happened, naughty girl, because big daddy doesn’t stop until he is done battering that pussy,” he rasped huskily, his grip on her dangerously firm as his narrow eyes bored into her soul. She could feel his big hard dick pressing against her belly. His breath hot on her face. A part of her wanted to quit, the part that wanted to be faithful to her cheating husband, Chase, so badly, but damn she had not been touched in a painfully long time and wouldn’t loose a chance to be fucked by this hot daddy in front of her. She took a deep breath before moaning her words, “Go ahead, go all the way. Even if it hurts, Daddy. Don’t stop.” And that was all the consent he needed to wreck her. Repercussions to follow later. ———————————————————- Giselle Monroe’s marriage to her distant, unfaithful husband, Chase Hemingway, is falling apart. As a last resort, she plans a romantic Valentine’s Day getaway to try and save their relationship. Chase was her first love and everything she ever wanted until he found someone else. Instead of a romantic weekend, he surprises her with divorce papers. Heartbroken, Giselle spends the night drinking with friends to mourn her lost love. That night leads to a passionate one-night stand with a handsome stranger she meets at the bar. To her shock, she discovers the man is Richard Hemingway, her ex-husband’s father. What started as a mistake turns into a forbidden affair. Now, Giselle is caught in a messy love triangle: between the son who suddenly wants her back, and the father who worships her and refuses to let her go.

My husband persuaded my daughter to donate her kidney to save his lover. After the surgery, he stayed by his lover’s side and neglected my daughter who developed kidney failure that led to her death. When I confronted the nasty couple, they refused to believe that my daughter had passed away and kicked me out by force. Afterward, I took my daughter's ashes to her eighteenth birthday party where my husband showed up with his lover and tore down all the decorations, going as far as to scatter my daughter’s ashes. He then accused my late daughter of undermining his lover’s career. When he finally had to accept that his daughter was dead, he still insisted on defending his lover. Eventually, I showed him proof that it was his lover who refused the hospital’s proposed organ donor so that she could plot to take my daughter’s kidney instead. Upon finding out the truth, he lost his mind and killed his lover. Now that those two have gotten what they deserve, I bring my daughter’s ashes and travel to the places she had always wanted to go to.

Just before the new school term started, my daughter's parent group chat, which had been quiet for ages, suddenly announced that the first parent-teacher meeting of the semester would be held that night. The rule was: both parents had to attend. A long string of "Got it" followed. I was about to reply when I noticed someone had beaten me to it. A guy with a family photo as his profile picture sent a voice message. "I'm Emma Sullivan's dad. We'll be there!" I froze. I clicked into the member list and checked repeatedly. My daughter's name was Emma Sullivan. He said he was Emma's dad. Then who the hell was I? I immediately called my wife. Before I could say a word, I heard her cheerful voice. "Honey, my best friend just asked me to dinner tonight. I'm bringing our daughter. Just make something at home yourself, and get some sleep early." My heart skipped a beat. Her best friend's husband was my good friend. He had just posted a family vacation photo from the Maldives on his social media. There was no way she was meeting her for dinner that night. I paused for a second, then smiled and said, "Sounds good." I hung up, called a car, and headed straight to my daughter's school. Let's find out exactly who my daughter's other father was.

My husband secretly swapped the transplant recipient, giving the kidney that was meant for our daughter to the daughter of the woman he had always loved. Not long after, our daughter's condition worsened. The doctors tried to save her, but it was no use. She didn't make it. At the same time, the other girl's surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he handed out little gifts to the entire hospital in celebration. Rage and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed. When I came to, the doctors told me I had cancer. Late-stage. My time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, I walked out of the hospital, clutching the urn that held my daughter's ashes. In the cold, empty house, I sat alone and drafted the divorce papers.

On my daughter, Arlene Bale's tenth birthday, I miscarried in a horrific car accident. Before I can even tell my husband, Camden Bale, about my pregnancy, my unborn child has already left me. Devastated, I attempt to call Camden. But after spamming more than a dozen calls, none of them get answered. When I open a social media app, the first thing I see is Camden's first love, Ruth Carroll, celebrating her safe delivery online. The accompanying photo features Camden's tender-looking side profile as he cradles the newborn in his arms. Camden's mother, Patricia Stone, even leaves a long comment there to celebrate the birth of Ruth's baby. "Oh, Ruth! You really are a hero to the Bales! To think that your firstborn is a son who can inherit our family's legacy! That woman who has married into our family for ten years only gave birth to one inferior spawn! "I swear, I will kick that useless woman out sooner or later! Once that happens, you can marry into the Bale family proudly!" With trembling fingers, I click the phone shut. After that, I forcibly get discharged from the hospital and rush home so that I can demand for answers. But that's when my nightmare has just begun. I receive the news of Arlene's unfortunate death. It turns out Camden has left Arlene at home all by herself, which leads to her accidental death. The entire Bale family is too busy celebrating the birth of Ruth's son. No one bothers shedding a tear for Arlene's passing. With hatred brimming in my heart, I fly to another country. Camden Bale, you're the one hurting me from the start till the end. I will make you and your family pay the heavy price.