¿Por Qué Te Demoras En Subir Nuevos Capítulos Gratis?

He stood in front of me, held my face between his hands and stared down at me. I waited, once again, I did. For what? This time I didn't know. But the moment he spoke, I knew, the wait was over. "You waited." He said. I gasped. " You waited." He breathed.

As a healer, I keep taking in emergency patients around the clock just so I can save up enough money for a luxurious family trip. But after transferring the money into the family account, my mate, Leonard Cross, announces that he will be taking the entire family on the trip, whereas I'm required to stay at home. Everyone supports his decision. "Don't you always take overtime shifts on your day off? That's why I never considered the fact that you can go on this trip with us." I'm pissed, to say the least. "So, the four of you will be going, eh?" My sister-in-law, Rita Cross, pipes up, "Cassandra and Hannah will be joining us too." Cassandra Davis is Leonard's childhood sweetheart, whereas Hannah is the family's pet dog. It seems that everyone has received an invitation but me. After staying quiet for another beat, I nod. "Fine." Soon, I accept the three-year dispatch request to another place that's offered to me by my workplace. I also take the liberty to put the house—which I own the deed to—on sale. Since my family supports my career this much, I'm sure they will do the same when I decide to buy myself a new place to live for the sake of my business trip, right?

On Valentine's Day, my husband, Jason Smith, gets sent to the hospital after getting into a car crash. He's not alone—his naked adopted sister, Susan Lane, is sent there as well. The police officer explains to me, "Your boyfriend got distracted when he was driving, resulting in him crashing into a car that was in the opposite lane." After that, I retrieve the items that have survived the crash. They consist of a diamond ring, a pair of stockings, a pack of condoms, and an agreement. "I, Jason Smith, promise that I will never see Susan Lane ever again!" Three days later, Jason gets discharged from the hospital. He shows up in front of me with a bouquet. "Happy Valentine's Day, honey! Susan thinks these flowers are rather fresh, and that it's a waste to throw them away. I remember you loving flowers the most. You should get them placed in a vase. Don't let them go to waste." I just shake my head as I stare at the bouquet. The flowers are as rotten as my five-year marriage. That's why it's time to throw everything into the bin once and for all.

The night before I was supposed to stand beside Lucius Corleone at the altar and become his wife, he sent me a message. Sienna was pregnant. According to the family code, her child would be the first legitimate heir to the Corleone name. So Lucius ordered me to leave Sicily for three years—and tell everyone I had broken our contract first. For eight years, I had been his shadow. I wiped away his blood, buried his crimes, protected his business, and waited for the day he would finally bring me into the light. But now, he said Sienna belonged in the sunlight. I stared at the message, my hands still burning from scrubbing away the evidence of his latest murder. Then I typed back one word. "Understood." A second later, Sienna's official wedding announcement appeared on the Corleone family's private network. Apparently, she couldn't even wait until morning to wear my ring.

For three years, I worked for my coworkers for free—designing, covering for their mistakes, cleaning up their messes. They used my work to get promoted, to win awards, even to run side jobs on the sly, and I never took a cent for any of it. Then I single-handedly landed the hardest client project the company had ever taken on and walked away with a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. That was the day everyone lost their minds. The same people who'd leeched off me the hardest led the charge, cornering me at my desk and tearing into me in front of the whole office. "The whole concept for that project was a team effort. What gives you the right to keep the bonus for yourself?" "Your work has always been garbage. That free labor of yours was never worth anything anyway!" Worse, they spent the whole night digging up old grievances, stitching together every minor slip-up they could find, and spreading rumors through the entire company—that I'd stalled projects, that my work was worthless, that I'd tanked the department's numbers. Finally, they gave me an ultimatum. "Either split the entire bonus with the department, or pay us two hundred thousand dollars for our trouble. Take your pick." Even the department manager tried to smooth things over, telling me, "We're all colleagues here. You've already got a big bonus—taking a small loss won't kill you. Don't be so difficult about it." Wonderful. So three years of quietly covering for everyone had just produced a pack of lazy, credit-stealing backstabbers. Since they wanted to gang up on the one person who'd always played fair, fine. I was going to lay out three years of original files, timestamps, and proof of exactly who'd done the work—all of it, all at once. And what none of them knew was that the special project behind my bonus was an AI system built to replace every single one of them.

I was just picking up my spoon when he told me our marriage registration would be delayed again. "Let's do it next time," Ethan said as he put down his cutlery. His tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. I took a sip of my food, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Okay." He glanced at me, picked up his fork, and then looked at me again. "You're not angry?" I continued eating, my voice entirely flat. "No, I'm not." Our wedding ceremony had been held six months ago, but this was the seventeenth time he had postponed getting our marriage certificate. He was used to doing this. And I was used to accepting it. I finished my meal bite by bite. He didn't touch his food again. When I stood up to clear the table, he caught my wrist. "Summer, next Monday. I'll definitely be free next week," Ethan promised. "We already had our wedding anyway, a few days won't make a difference. Don't worry, I won't break my promise this time." I looked down at his hand, then looked up at him with a faint smile. "Okay." Over the past six months, he had said "next week" nine times, "definitely" thirteen times, and "don't worry" sixteen times. Yet, we still hadn't registered our marriage. And next week, it wouldn't happen either. Because this time, I would be the one breaking the promise.