Bias And Prejudice Slogan

My birthday present this year is a written contract titled 'Behavioral Reform Contract'. My fiance, who was the mafia head Matteo Giovanni, and my parents have already signed their names at the bottom. Together, they had me sent to the Behavioral Correction Center. … The windows are always shut, and the sunlight is filtered through the metal window bars. They drug, reprimand, and ostracize me to make me shove my feelings of aggrievement down. Even while I am being humiliated and punished, they teach me to force a smile and maintain a steady breath. It was all done in the name of "treating" me. A year passes, and I go from being a so-called "troublemaker" to their ideal version of me—quiet, elegant, and utterly perfect. Matteo beams at me and says, "You've finally become my perfect wife. We can finally marry." I match his smile, a gesture that they think means obedience from my part. However, it is not true. It is just me bidding my farewell before I leave for good. There's something I don't understand, however. They constantly found me lacking, so now that I am gone from their lives, why are they falling apart?

The day my boyfriend got back together with his first love was the day I boarded the flight to Imperia. "Queenie was just a fling," said my boyfriend. "I'll never see her again. We'll be together forever." His friends were worried about my ruining his heartfelt confession, but I would not. Not this time. Before I went to Imperia, I promised my mentor I would join medical research, and I was half a month away from total communication cutoff. I would have to stay around for ten years for the research. I would not be allowed to contact anyone in the meantime. And thus, my ties to my soon-to-be ex were broken.

Ever since my CEO husband returned from his business trip, he's been acting strange. His hugs are stiff, and his kisses are empty. Even when we're intimate, something just feels off. When I ask him why, he just smiles and says he's tired from work. But everything falls into place the moment I see his first love stepping out of his Maybach, her body covered in hickeys. That's when I finally give up. I don't argue or cry. I just smile… and tear up the 99th love coupon. Once, he wrote me a hundred love letters. On our wedding day, we made a promise—those letters would become 100 love coupons. As long as there were coupons left, I'd grant him anything he asked. Over the four years of our marriage, every time he left me for his first love, he'd cash in one. But what he doesn't know is that there are only two left.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

I've been chasing after Howard Chapman for 20 years. A week before our graduation ceremony, we slept together every night, burning through ten boxes of condoms in just as many days. When I bring him our 11th box of condoms, he turns me away as he's working on his thesis. Worried about his health, I buy him some supplements instead. But as I stand outside his door, about to hand them over, I catch him poking holes in the condoms. His friend chuckles and says, "You're still sneaking Selena Reed birth control pills, huh? You're the only one who'd cook up such a scheme. Selena doesn't know she's already swallowed ten of them, does she? If she did, she'd throw a huge tantrum." Howard snorts. "I wouldn't even touch her if I didn't need her to try the pills and help me figure out which one causes the fewest side effects. "Lizzy's got a weak immune system. She's not as tough as Selena, so I have to be more careful with her. Besides, Selena and I are engaged. There'll be plenty of time to nurse her back to health after the wedding. I won't owe her anything." His friends cackle at his response. "You're not wrong. Selena's been pursuing you for 20 years. She's probably over the moon to marry you. She'd probably hand you her uterus if you asked for it—birth control pills are nothing to her." Howard had just proposed to me yesterday, in front of the whole college. My tears spatter onto the supplement box as I turn to leave. Howard has made his choice, and it's only right that I honor it.

After my fated mate, Liam, postponed our marking ceremony for the ninety-ninth time, I saw him on the pack's evening news broadcast. He was with Clara at the Temple of the Moon Goddess, helping her choose precious moonstones. The look on his face was a gentle one I'd never seen before. My heart turned to ash. In my despair, I immediately accepted Alpha Fabian's courtship. He wooed me at his lavish estate, promising me the grandest marking ceremony of all. I started to believe the Moon Goddess had made a mistake, that Fabian was my true mate. Until I walked in on him in his study, plotting with a witch. On our marking night, he was going to steal my wolf soul and give it to Clara. And to make sure I could never interfere with Clara and Liam's bond, he planned to keep me his prisoner forever. I fled back to my room, sobbing uncontrollably. Then, with a trembling hand, I called the apothecary. "I need your strongest potion to end a pregnancy. As soon as possible."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

"Forget it, I'll marry him!" The moment Margot Johanson said those words, she suddenly felt a sense of relief. She could hear her parents' voices full of smiles in her ears. "Gigi, we’re glad you’ve made up your mind. Your fiancé may be in a coma, but he’s quite handsome.  “Although he’s been out for years, what if he wakes up? After all, he’s the one set to inherit the family business..." Her parents, trying to persuade their own daughter to marry a comatose man, actually thought she was getting the better deal.  They seemed convinced that no one else in the world would be foolish enough to take on such a situation.  Margot smiled bitterly. "Don’t worry. Since I’ve made up my mind to marry, I won’t back out. I won’t let your precious Maisie take my place."

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

My girlfriend had one of those guy friends she insisted was basically family. On a group hike, he knew I had diabetes and couldn't eat anything high in sugar, but he still coaxed me into eating a high-sugar energy bar, and my blood sugar spiked almost instantly. When I pulled out my insulin to inject, panic shot through me. My medication had been switched out for saline. I collapsed to the ground, shaking and retching. The fake nice-guy just looked down at me with a smug twist of his mouth. "Seriously, man? You're being dramatic. It's just a little sugar. Good thing I told Selene to swap your meds, or we'd never know how far you'd go to fake it. With a body this weak, how are you supposed to protect Selene?" I turned to my girlfriend, my breathing already turning shallow. "Selene, give me my insulin. If I don't inject it right now, I'm going to die." She frowned as if I were the one being unreasonable. "You're overacting. I've never heard of someone dying from a bit of sugar. Adrian's right. You're always looking for attention. Everyone finally got together today, and you're here ruining it." I felt everything inside me go cold. I didn't even bother arguing anymore. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and rasped, "Mom, your son's about to get bullied to death. Are you going to step in or not?"