Cherished Synonym

Emily Denver believed she had been married to Chuck Morrison for three years. It wasn't until she was planning their third anniversary that she made a horrifying discovery: the marriage certificate she'd cherished was a complete forgery. Her husband's real wife turned out to be… her best friend. For three years, Chuck and his entire family had played her for a fool, weaving an elaborate lie to keep her trapped. And it was all because a car accident—the one where she'd saved his life—had left her unable to have children. Chuck had the nerve to say, "I do love you, Emily. I just want us to have a child." Her "best friend" Catherine simpered, "I never meant to hurt you. I just want to be part of your lives, part of your family." Emily looked at them, her heart turning to ice. "You're both insane." Fine. If they wanted to play a twisted game, she would play—and she would win. They tried to steal her business project? She turned around and married the heir to the most powerful conglomerate in the city, becoming the very client they had to grovel to. They denied her the wedding of her dreams? Her new husband offered a bride price worth billions, and their ceremony was the social event of the decade. They whispered behind her back about being barren? She gave birth to beautiful, healthy twins and watched them choke on their envy. When news of the heir's marriage first broke, the social elite collectively pitied his new bride. Everyone knew he carried a torch for a woman he could never have—a lost love who was already married to another man. The rumors said he was so heartbroken when she walked down the aisle that he tried to take his own life. They whispered that he still watched films she had starred in, weeping in the dark. So when Emily, after having his children, decided to "set him free" for the sake of his legendary first love, the heir clutched her desperately, his voice raw with emotion. "Who is spreading these vicious lies? Darling, you have to believe me! There has never been anyone but you!"

After three years of relentless pursuit, I finally won over Logan—a guy who had never shown the slightest interest in women—and he cherished me like I was his entire world. On the eve of our wedding, I accidentally overheard one of his friends teasing him, "Logan, are you really ready to step into the grave of marriage for Bella? And what about Joann? She's chased you for so many years. Don't you feel anything for her?" Logan's voice was cold. "If we hadn't grown up together, I wouldn't even want to see Joann's face. She could never compare to Bella, ever." So, I held onto dreams for our future, and I married him. Two years later, at our daughter's hundred-day celebration, Joann came to me in tears, claiming her baby had leukemia—and that only my daughter could save her baby. Logan's eyes reddened instantly, and without hesitation, he sent our daughter into the operating room to have her blood drawn. I struggled in the bodyguards' grip desperately, crying and pleading, "Logan, Lily is still so little. She can't take this. She'll die! Please, use the cord blood I stored for her. I'm begging you, let her go." He kicked me aside. "It's just a bit of blood. Joann's baby is dying, and you're still this selfish? Get out!" When the surgery was over, he tossed a divorce agreement at me. "Joann's child is mine. I have to give them both a name, and I'm taking her abroad for treatment." I stared at my silent, motionless daughter in the operating room, my heart turning to ash. "Fine." Six years later, Logan saw me in a baby store, holding the hand of my five-year-old son. Logan reached out with a pained look, trying to pick him up. "Why did you cut Lily's hair so short? She looks like a boy. What were you thinking?"

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.