Fish In A Tree Quotes Novels & Stories

Sean Benson and I have been betrothed since we were kids. But the older we grow, the further he stays away from me. On the day of our engagement banquet, he's found to be making out with Selena White, the heiress of the White family, backstage. This time, I no longer break down in tears. Instead, I just close the door properly for them before returning to the banquet hall silently. After that, I rip the pregnancy report that's pressed beneath a gift box into shreds. On our wedding day, all the guests are all smiles. Sean, however, is the only exception. He maintains a stormy expression the whole time, seemingly not wanting to marry me at all. I know that if it's not the fact that he gets to secure the position as the Benson heir, he will never make any wedding vows with me in the church. But no one expects me not to show up at all, even though the wedding ceremony is already starting. Sean calls me on the phone impatiently afterward. "Where the hell are you? If you don't show up soon, I'm going to cancel the wedding right away!" I merely chuckle softly without saying anything. Then, I throw my phone aside and accept the wedding bouquet that's passed to me. What Sean doesn't know is that my unborn child will be calling another man "daddy" soon.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

My studio's website receives an appraisal order worth 450 thousand dollars all of a sudden. The original poster of the order claims that this is a pre-wedding gift her fiance has gotten her. The comment section goes wild instantly. "If the appraisal fee alone is already 450 thousand dollars, does this mean the painting is worth 100 million dollars? Your husband really is generous to you!" "I'm so envious of you! You really are lucky to be able to marry such a rich man!" The poster quickly replies, "Luck has nothing to do with this. I fought for this fate with everything I had. I'll be frank with you; back then, my fiance still had a girlfriend. But everything I want in life will eventually be mine. "So, I slandered his girlfriend and pretended to be aggrieved just so my fiance's heart would go out to me. As time went on, his love for his girlfriend faded away. "In the end, all I have to do is lift a finger, and the girlfriend got her limbs crushed. After that, she got discarded like garbage." The Internet users post their replies of disbelief. There's no way someone will hurt their ex-girlfriend to this degree, after all. They all think that the original poster is being excessively dramatic. Someone even berates her for throwing a wrench into a relationship. Not only does she not feel ashamed, but she also finds it an extremely proud thing to have done. Even my assistant, Chiara Belmonte, tells me that this client seems like a nutjob and suggests that I decline this order. I don't say anything. Instead, I just tap "confirm". After all, what the poster said is the truth. The ex-girlfriend that she has described in her post is me.

Three years ago, my father marries me off to Evan Blackwell, the CEO of Blackwell Group, for the family's interests. Everyone thinks I'm done for because Evan is known for being ruthless and cruel. Yet, he's nothing but gentle to me, and he never raises his voice at me. He even has my initials, SH, tattooed on his chest. Every year on our anniversary, fireworks bloom across the city right on the dot. They spell out my name and the loving words he dedicates to me. On our third anniversary, the fireworks suddenly replace my name, Selena Holloway, with Serena Harroway. Before I can ask about it, Evan immediately calls his subordinates and tears into them. "What's going on? How could you mess up my wife's name? Do you want to lose your jobs?" I hastily tell him it's fine and that the thought is what truly matters. In the end, he lets them off the hook. However, he pushes me until my legs are shaking and my voice is gone that night. When I wake from the night that leaves my whole body humming, he's already seated at his desk and buried in work. He asks me to grab a folder for him, yet I open the wrong drawer and stumble upon an old photo album. It contains intimate photos of him and a young woman who looks strikingly like me. There's a confession on the back of every single picture. "I miss you so much, Serena."

After my younger sister went abroad, I married the mafia Don in her place. Five years after we married, we became each other’s greatest enemies. He hated me for driving my sister away and scheming my way into becoming his wife. I hated him for always treating me as a stand-in, never once acknowledging me in front of the world. My lack of status brought humiliation to my vain parents, and from that moment on, their love for me turned into hatred. In the end, he and my parents left me behind on a snowy mountain while celebrating Christmas with my sister. In the bitter cold, I died together with the child I never got to meet. Meanwhile, my sister basked in everyone’s love and had the happiest Christmas of her life. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister returned from abroad. This time, I would not beg Gideon or my parents to love me ever again.

At the company dinner, my coworkers started a game: everyone texted their lover saying they’d fallen ill. Whoever’s man replied first won. No surprise, I came in dead last again. Both my calls and my texts went completely unanswered. “Claire, don’t feel bad. Mr. Blackwood is so busy, it’s completely normal he hasn’t seen your message.” A coworker smiled and tried to comfort me, but the truth was, I’d gotten used to it long ago. Forget a cold or a fever. Even the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I called him nineteen times, and he didn’t pick up once. When I stayed quiet, everyone turned to look at Vivian in the corner, and one coworker teased her with a grin. “Vivian, didn’t you say your boyfriend was super clingy? How come he still hasn’t replied?” Vivian clutched her phone, her face full of unease. “I’ll pass. What if he’s in a meeting? I don’t want to bother him.” The mood had gone stiff, and looking at her pale fingertips, I suddenly smiled. “It’s fine. It’s just a game.” Before she could refuse again, I leaned over and hit the speaker-dial for her. The call I’d expected no one to answer was picked up in an instant. The huge private room fell dead silent. Because the voice coming through the phone belonged to Adrian Blackwood, my forever-busy boyfriend of seven years. “Babe, don’t forget our date tonight.” “Seven o’clock. I’ll see you at The Laurent.”

My mother was the most renowned forensic artist, yet she refused to acknowledge me as her daughter. On my eighteenth birthday, I was kidnapped and called her for help. However, my mother replied impatiently, "Today is Angelina's birthday. Just die if you want attention that badly." Later, all the bones in my body were shattered and scattered everywhere. When my mother reconstructed my face from the bones, she lost her mind.

From the time I was small, my mother told me I was my little brother's second mother. Hence, from age four, every mistake Danny Hartley made became mine to bear. When Danny dirtied the floor, I scrubbed it clean with a rag, inch by inch. When Danny stole, I wrote the apology letters. Then, I turned seven, and Danny accidentally hurt the convenience store owner's son. When the heavyset Hugo Osborn came to our door, Danny pointed at me without hesitation. "Sienna did it!" Mom did not hesitate either. She shoved me toward him. "Mr. Osborn, I didn't raise her right. That's on me. Take my daughter. Beat her, scold her, do whatever you want." What she had not known was that once Mr. Osborn took me away, I would never come back.

My older sister, Scarlet Dawson, is an absolute saint with a savior complex. When the apocalyptic heatwave hits us, she gives out water to our neighbors, food to strangers, and even invites her boyfriend's entire family to live with us. When our supplies are finally depleted, Scarlet actually considers selling me off to a perverted old man in exchange for supplies to look after her boyfriend, Marcus Crosby. I promptly pull out my stun gun and knock her unconscious. Then, I hand her straight to the perverted old man instead. I go back to my villa, where the temperature is constantly kept at 60°F, and enjoy a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream under the air conditioning. Not only that, but my villa is stocked with enough supplies to last me for the next few decades!

As the son of Harbor City's casino magnate, I willingly handed control of the World Cup book to my stepsister, Sophie Bell. It was only because, in my last life, Sophie, who had never watched soccer seriously, suddenly turned into the family's lucky charm and called sixteen World Cup matches in a row. Every single night I stayed up breaking down each team's tactics and studying the players' habits and tricks. Yet Sophie could always predict the exact score, a step ahead, saying out loud the very answer in my mind. "Admit it, Adrian. I'm just stronger than you! Everyone, listen to me and go all in!" After that, the whole internet worshiped her as a goddess and praised her as a natural-born betting queen. Everyone mocked me as nothing but a fraud who'd never deserved his name. I was driven out of the family, and in a daze, someone shoved me off a high-rise. Only in that moment did I finally learn the truth: my stepsister could eavesdrop on my thoughts in real time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the World Cup began. This time, I didn't watch the matches. Instead, I looped through my head: "Darling, hold my hands. Nothing beats a jet 2 holiday, right now you can..."