Novel & Cerita Breadwinners

Mia “Hey, wifey!” Bruno called the moment he spotted me stepping into the bar. I dragged myself toward him, drained. If I could get my pay today, maybe I’d be able to make half the rent and secure my apartment. “You look like you just crawled out of the grave. Everything okay?” Bruno asked, pulling me into a hug when I pouted. “I’m exhausted,” I whined. He handed me a glass the second he let go. “Here, this should give you a boost.”

“It’s been less than a week. I thought women were more faithful than that.” “Faithfulness requires reciprocation, doesn’t it?” she replied. Damien’s expression cooled. He turned away and moved behind his desk. Opening a drawer, he removed a stack of documents and slid them across the surface toward her. She stared at them. “What is this?” “Read clause thirteen,” he said. “You signed it.” Her eyes dropped to the heading. Marriage Lottery X Emily Harlow Her contract. She flipped through the pages, her fingers stiff, until she found the clause.

"Two, debt restructured. Zero interest twelve months, then four percent, like bakery loan. Repayment from wages, not house. House deed returned to you, removed as collateral." "Three, you work at Henry Blackwood House, not bakery. Shelter for women who left with one suitcase needs nurse who knows ER, who knows bruises, who knows mother who quit job for daughter. Salary forty-five thousand, plus stipend. Not charity. Job." Margaret's hands shook, tears free.

“How am I supposed to live on, mother? You think I can keep slaving at my in-laws like this every day? They treat me like a fucking slave! I need to get the fuck out of there!” “But…I won’t have anything left, son!”It sickens me how my mother’s voice is still filled with affection as she tries to reason with my brother. “It’s the only thing that is keeping me fed…what will happen after? Will you find a job? Will you help pay my bills once I give this money to you?”

Elena nodded again. She started eating, the sweetness instantly melting in her mouth. She had always loved fruits but she never had money to buy them. She was always starved due to the caretaker she had also since everyone called her fat. But she didn’t care what people said, since it was her life and her rules. “Grans, I need some protein shake for me and Luc.” A deep accented voice rang in the kitchen. Her body stilled. She suddenly went on nervous mode. Her hands became sweaty. She clutched the fork tightly within her hands. Closing her eyes, she slowed down her breathing which had escalated at the voice.

Still, I felt the need to apologise for my words earlier so I decided to find her. I walked to the bedroom she shared with my brother slowly, shame slowing my steps and making my weight hang in the air. She wasn't there. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the door bell ring. I listened as she opened the door and a guy's voice filtered to my ears. Ethan. Of course it would be Ethan she was talking to. My anger returned, simmering beneath my bones and I turned away, walking back to my room. I switched on the television and was stunned to see an announcement about one Amber Homes, who turned out to be the winner of the multi millionaire contract by movie producers.

And as I scanned the legalese, a single question echoed in my mind: could a marriage of convenience ever lead to something real? The contract was dense, a labyrinth of legalities that swam before my eyes. Through the legalese, however, a few key points stood out: a lump sum payment upfront, enough to clear my bakery debts and secure the lease for another year, and a monthly stipend that could finally turn Sweet Dreams into a real business.

That annoying bow again. As if on que, six ladies walked in with my boxes. "Good morning, Miss Davies." They stopped in front of me and greeted. Three other ladies joined the six ladies and greeted me too. "That's Maya, she's the Chef. That's Fiona, she's responsible for the laundry and that's Laurel, she's the house cleaner. Every Tuesday, some other workers from her agency come over to clean the house." Charles introduced them one after the other. I was too stunned to speak, not used to such lifestyle.

“Hello, I’m an editor at Zephyr Publishing. I came across your blog and found your writing excellent. Would you be interested in joining our publishing house as an editor?” I hadn’t expected an opportunity to come so quickly. My heart fluttered with excitement. I immediately replied and arranged an interview. The interview went smoothly, and I was hired. That evening, walking home, I felt quite cheerful. Suddenly, a few thuggish young men blocked my path. “Hey, where are you going, pretty?” I hugged my bag tightly and tried to keep calm. “I don’t have time. Here—take this money.” However, they became more aggressive.

Williams cried when Isabella presented the check. "This doesn't bring back what we lost," she'd said through tears. "But it gives us a future. Thank you." The Peterson family—David Peterson's widow and two sons—received $2 million plus business mentorship from one of Blackwell Industries' partners. The older son wanted to study engineering. The younger needed special education support. Both were now possible. "My husband would have wanted this," Mrs. Peterson had said quietly. "Not the money. But someone acknowledging what happened. Someone saying 'this was wrong and we're trying to make it right.' That matters more than you know."