Dumbledore Said Calmly Page Number

I come home and find my husband's female best friend, Winona Langdon, who claims to be one of the guys, sleeping in my bed. I bring up divorce with Lucas Gardner for the 99th time. This time, he finally snaps. "Natania Simmon, are you done making a scene? Are you throwing a tantrum again just because Winona stayed over at our place and slept in our bed?" I answer calmly, "That's right." His friends throw their arms around his shoulders and chime in sarcastically, "Don't take it to heart, Lucas. Women get jealous easily. Oh, how I miss the days when we all slept under the same covers together." Lucas smiles bitterly and says, "When you guys get married in the future, remember this—you can't afford to mess with jealous women. Still, there's no helping it. Natania just loves me too much. She's trying to scare me by throwing divorce around. "Listen. In less than three days, she'll come crawling back to me." The derisive smirk playing on my lips deepens. In our seven years of marriage, Winona stays at my house whenever she pleases. I watch with my own eyes as Lucas and Winona grow increasingly inappropriate in their interactions. They reach into each other's pants. They also share the same straw and wash each other's underwear. And now... She even sleeps in my bed! These last seven years were not love. I was just foolishly blind. Right in front of everyone, I dial a number and say, "Dad, I'm done messing around out here. Your heiress is ready to come home."

“Let’s skip the formalities. I have something very important to discuss with you,” he said. I stared at the server serving the food while mentally preparing to deal with whatever he had to say. “I need a wife,” he said calmly, like it was the most normal request in the world. I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Not this again.” “Allow me to be your—” “No!” I interrupted. “I’m married, remember? That little detail that keeps slipping from your head?” ************* Celine’s picture-perfect life comes crumbling down when she discovers her husband’s infidelity. Left with nothing but heartbreak and debt, she swears never to trust again—until Christopher Sterling, a powerful CEO, offers her a deal that changes everything. He’ll protect her. He’ll claim her. And he’ll make everyone who hurt her pay. What starts as a simple contract soon becomes something much deeper. As Celine tries to guard her heart, she realizes that love can be more dangerous than betrayal. Her past broke her. Her future might save her. But love was never part of the deal.

“Fine, but there should be rules.” I said sitting back down. “There is one, don't fall in love with me, Ice Queen.” He said with an ecstatic voice. “I’d be caught dead before that happens!” “We’ll see.” He muttered with a smirk on his face. Everything… Amara Forger had lost everything, from her company to her name. She had given years of hard work and love to the people who tore down to the ground. She is now caught in the middle of a whole lot of drama, but something happens. She is offered help from the one person who she would have never imagined to help her. Her number one enemy, Roman Winters. He offers to marry her and in return he would help her save her firm and return everything she lost while she would help him do something that was biting him down. Amara agrees, but then she sees the terror in the Winters household and she also learns things about Roman that she didn't know. She begins to put things together, but the question remains. Can you fake emotions forever without them turning real?

On my wedding day, my fiancé bailed. Sabina—his ex—had sent him a diary listing 77 things she'd done for him. Turns out she only dumped him because his family pushed her to. So, he ran back to her. While I was still reeling, Jacob—my fiancé's best friend—showed up. He got down on one knee, flashed a ring he'd clearly had ready, and said, "Yuna Auclair, I've liked you for a long time. Will you marry me?" I thought he was my person. But after the wedding, Jacob turned distant. Hot one second, ice-cold the next. Then I found a diary in his study. Just like the one Sabina had sent my ex. Page one hit like a truck: [Hurt Yuna Auclair seventy-seven times, and I'll break up with Gabriel and be with you.] Oh—and Gabriel? He was my ex.

The wedding's in half an hour, and my fiancé's assistant, this woman, just hands me this paper. Rule number one: No physical contact with him outside, not unless he explicitly permits it. Rule number two: Intimacy is to occur only when he initiates it. She is obligated to satisfy his desires at least once a month. Rule number three: He can demand his due at any time, any place, and she cannot refuse. ... After I finished reading this entire two-page contract, I had to fight to keep a smile on my face. Swallowing the fire in my gut, I called my fiancé. "Marcus, what the hell is this?" "What do you mean, 'If he fathers a child, she must raise it, no matter who the mother is'?"

I used to be that girl in the mafia—envied, untouchable. Orlando Leone, the big bad Don everyone feared, had eyes only for me. I took a bullet for him. After that? People whispered I couldn't have kids. He tried to shut them up by knocking me up—ninety-nine tries. Try number ten? His shiny new secretary texted, all confused over a decimal. He bailed on me. By thirty, she crashed his sports car while shopping. Claimed she couldn't park. I was left freezing in a bathtub. He said he loved me, but when it counted, he always picked the girl who played dumb and helpless. That's when it hit me—his love was never really mine. And by the time I disappeared for real, he lost his mind looking. Too bad. Me and that promise? Already buried at sea.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

His precious childhood sweetheart got drunk one night and ended up in a stranger’s bed. When she showed up again, she was pregnant—just like me. On the day I gave birth, Harold handed me the divorce papers. "Rachel’s about to return to acting," he said coldly. "She and the baby need a proper title. If a scandal breaks out, it’ll destroy her." Dragging my frail body, I calmly signed the papers. In my previous life, I refused to step aside. I went live, holding my daughter, and exposed the award-winning actress Rachel Underwood for knowingly becoming the other woman. The internet turned on her. She lost every endorsement and was driven to the edge by massive fines—eventually jumping off a building. Harold quietly took care of her funeral... and then stood by as her fans harassed me in the streets, even tried to burn my child and me alive. It was not until I saw him lock the door behind us that I realized—he had wanted us dead all along. Then I woke up. And it was the day he gave me the divorce agreement... again.

When we were about to head to the amusement park, my Beta boyfriend, Drew, brought along a woman and her daughter. There happened to be one seat short in the car. Drew told me to get out and give my seat to the two of them. “Laura has a kid with her. Let them go first. I’ll come back for you later,” he said. I calmly stepped out and watched as the car slowly pulled away from the pack. Three hours later, they arrived at the amusement park for the fireworks and feast. When a friend asked Drew why he still hadn’t come back to get me, Drew was patiently helping Laura light a giant firework. He wasn’t in a rush at all and even said, “It’ll be fine if I pick Sienna up later. She won’t mind. I’ll coax her a bit, and she’ll stop being mad.” Anger only worked on people who cared about someone. My dad, mom, and brother never cared, and now, not even Drew cared anymore. It was time for me to leave for good.

"In the world of shadows, loyalty is bought, love is a weapon, and once the mafia claims you, you're ruined—body, soul, and everything you once believed in." Enzo Mezzesalma was cold, aggressive, ruthless, and grim. He had no weakness until he met her and once he got a taste of her, she became his new addiction, now he couldn't let go and she became his only weakness and now, they all wanted her just so they could ruin that perfect facade he had built over the years but only if they knew he was worst than the monster they had never heard of, he was just too good at hiding it. There had to be a reason for Rule Number 3, right? *~* It was summer and Anastasia thought the rest of her days would be sunny but she was dead as she stepped into her home for the first in two years after moving to the university campus to be exchanged for her parent's debts and just like that, Anastasia was thrown into the Mafia world, working as a maid to pay off her parents debts and then she met Enzo Mezzesalma and rule number 3 said: Stay Away From Enzo Mezzesalma. Anastasia didn't know when she started breaking that rule and got herself buried in a hole she wouldn't be able to pull herself out. "My own death does not frighten me, but yours? Oh, that's my greatest and deepest fear," - Enzo Mezzesalma "Being his slut and being a slut are two entirely different things," - Anastasia Martin