Deep Right Person Wrong Time Quotes Novels & Stories

[...]“Eleonor is my wife. She's mine, whether it's to love her, hate her… make her moan, or make her life miserable. She's mine, and mine alone.”[...] ㅤ Because of James Evans debt at Serendipity Casino, he's forced to accept the proposal of the mysterious Mr. Reviello, a mobster of questionable reputation. To pay off the debt, his daughter Emily must marry Mr. Reviello, the current leader of the household. However, she's fragile and would not endure that lifestyle. Therefore, the Evans family decides to trick Mr. Reviello and send the eldest daughter, Eleonor, to marry in Emily's place. ㅤ Humiliated at the altar, Eleonor spends two years without meeting her husband, cultivating a deep hatred for him. But everything changes when she has a casual night with a man she met at the club. That man is none other than her husband. Because of the breach of the infidelity clause, Eleonor is forced to enter a mental game with Reviello, in an intense relationship where he likes to dominate and be in control, and she doesn't like to obey. Until hate becomes love. ㅤ However, her identity as the wrong bride remains a secret. At least that's what she believes. After all, Giovanni Reviello also has his own secrets. ㅤ(+18 ONLY)

Carlos Gotti, a ruthless mafia boss got saved by Serafina at a masked halloween party leaving a student i. Carlos traces her back through the student id but it was a different person on the id. Serafina was holding her best friend Isabella's handbag and the id had mistakenly slipped off from the bag. Isabella claims to be Sera taking both the cash prize and crawling her way into Carlos heart but then something was different, the perfume which Sera wore was different from Isabella's perfume. What happens when Carlos finds out the perfume worn by Isabella was different from Sera and was being impersonated by Isabella? How long will Isabella pretend to be the one who saved Carlos Gotti? Will Sera ever find out her best friend's betrayal? What happens when the ruthless Mafia don falls for an average girl Sera?

In the sixth year of my marriage with Zach Elroy, his workplace finally allocated us a small, two-room flat. I was overjoyed. I told our daughter she would finally have a bed of her own. But Zach said coldly, "This room is for Jennifer and her daughter. You and Kathy can keep sleeping on the floor." In my past life, we fought bitterly over it. He eventually gave in. But while I was away on a work trip, he went back on his word. He brought Jennifer Cross into our home and made our daughter, Kathy, sleep on the floor. That night, when Kathy came down with a high fever and cried out that she felt sick, he was reading Jennifer and her daughter a bedtime story. Our daughter passed away that night. Now, in this life, I calmly laid out the bedding on the floor and said, "Whatever."

How rich can a person be? My wife is incredibly rich. People call her "The Queen of Cloudridge" because nearly half the city's properties are owned by her. We've been married for five years, and every time she goes out to meet her first love, she transfers a property to my name. By the time I have 99 homes in my name, she suddenly notices that something has changed. I no longer cry, beg, or ask her to stay. I simply choose the finest mansion in all of Cloudridge, bring the property deed with me, and wait for her to sign it. She signs the papers, and for the first time, she softens. "When I get back, let's go watch the fireworks together." I quietly tuck the agreement away and hum in response. But I never tell her what she's really signed this time. It's not a property deed. It's our divorce agreement.

Tamara Winslow stands amid the crowd while clutching two different documents in her hand. One of them shows a diagnosis report on her alexithymia, while the other showcases a divorce agreement. Three hours ago, she had specifically visited the Clerk's Office because the hospital's system had shown her marital status as "divorced". The city clerk looks up at her. "Ma'am, it's true that you and Mr. Braxton Merrick got divorced three years ago." Tamara's expression freezes on her face. "How could that be? We got married three years ago!" The city clerk checks the details once again. This time, he adapts a rather awkward tone. "The results are correct. It's true that you got divorced three years ago. In fact, it took place… on the seventh second right after you got married…"

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Just as the Garner family teeters on the edge of bankruptcy, Seth Garner's parents come to my doorstep. They beg for a marriage alliance. My father knows I've loved Seth for ten years. So, he pours ten billion into the Garners to save their empire and marries me off to him. On our wedding night, Seth blindfolds me with red silk and takes me again and again with ruthless intensity. A month later, I excitedly bring him the pregnancy report. However, I overhear him at a bar, laughing with his friends. "So, who do you think knocked up Luna?" Laughter erupts. "Seth, don't tell me the child's mine!" "I bet a hundred grand it's his!" That’s when I realize the man in my bed on our wedding night wasn't even Seth. I storm in and demand answers, but he just sneers. "What are you crying for? If your family hadn't threatened me with money and driven Ash away, you think I'd treat you like this? "Let me be clear—the day Ash forgives me is the day I let you go." Dead inside, I ask for a divorce. He responds by threatening me with footage from our wedding night and locking me in the basement. "You're not leaving. You owe Ash, and you'll repay it!" Eight months later, I die in that basement, along with the baby I couldn't deliver. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the Garner family first begs my father for that deal. This time, Seth is the one crying on my wedding day.

Eliza Ward does not fall through time. Time bends toward her. Pulled from the present into Revolutionary America, Eliza becomes trapped in a landscape where history repeats unevenly, battles restart with variations, and memory functions as both anchor and weapon. She is not a chosen heroine, but a constant: a woman whose awareness destabilizes the moment itself. She meets Mercy Hale, a midwife and witch who understands time as a negotiation rather than a force to command. Mercy aids Eliza’s survival while refusing the role of savior, having already learned the cost of standing too close to history’s center. During a looping battle, Eliza saves Thomas Reed, a Continental soldier who does not shift when time does. Thomas is an anchor: steady, observant, unchanged across iterations. Their bond deepens in an almost-normal village where time briefly behaves. Eliza’s intervention triggers time’s response. Rather than immediate destruction, time collects interest. Mercy bargains to spare Eliza and Thomas, sacrificing her own future to stabilize the present. Time extracts payment from Eliza as well, stripping away her voice, the very tool she uses to name and hold moments in place. Silenced and unmoored, Eliza is violently displaced back into the original battle. Unable to anchor the moment, she watches Thomas die in the version of history that was always waiting beneath her defiance. Told in rotating perspectives between Eliza, Thomas, and Mercy, The Hours That Refused to Behave is a lyrical time-travel novel about revolution, restraint, and consequence, asking not whether history can be changed, but who pays when it is.

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."

I applied for paid time off to visit my wife, Luna Reid, a scientist who was away on an overseas assignment. As I was bored on the plane, I scrolled through social media when I was bored on the plane. Then, I came across a post. [My ex-girlfriend, who’s married, invited me to go on an overseas trip. What should I bring on that trip?] The netizens made fun of him. [Naturally you have to bring condoms. If you accidentally get her pregnant, her current husband will become the father of your child.] Some other netizens chastised them. Initially, I was reading it for my own entertainment. At that moment, I came across a comment left by a private account. [I’m that married ex-girlfriend. I hope that everyone can be mindful of their words.] [We’re not doing this for any immoral reasons. We just want to make up for lost time.] [The coming two weeks are the only time we have left together. I just want time to pass a little slower. I just ask for it to be a little slower.] I stared at that profile picture intently. The woman in the profile picture was none other than Luna, who had been overseas for three years. She had a two-week break, and she initially planned to return to the country to be with me. However, a day before her break, she suddenly told me that her research was at a critical stage, so her time-off had been cancelled. I missed her terribly, so I secretly applied for time off at work to give her a surprise. I had not expected that surprise to turn sour on me. At the same time, I received a text message from Luna. [Baby, starting tomorrow, for two weeks, my work has a do-not-disturb policy, so please don’t contact me.]