Generosity In A Sentence Novels & Stories

In the fifth year after my death, my wife, Yuna Lane, visited my apartment once more. She wanted me to take the blame for her childhood sweetheart's corporate fraud crimes. "Finn, Joe is going to be elected the chairman of the Trade Association. He can't afford any blemish to his reputation. Will you only be satisfied by thoroughly ruining him? "It's only two more years in prison! Joe said he'll give you a job once you're released. Stop being so ungrateful!" Her screams and shouts startled my neighbors. … When she banged on the door once more, the woman who lived across from me finally stepped out into the hallway. "Miss, stop banging on the door. He died long ago." "He's dead?" The woman sighed. "Yes. I hear it goes back to that fraud case years ago. The victim's family wasn't happy with the sentence, so as soon as Finn was released, they had him run over and killed.” My wife's face turned stark white upon hearing the truth. However, barely a few seconds passed before she let out a cold scoff, confident this was all just a scheme of mine. "Great. He's willing to fake his death just so he can get out of helping Joe. Does he really think I'm helpless and powerless against his schemes? Tell him that his parents are dead meat if he doesn't show up in three days!" She then violently kicked the metal grills of my door before strutting away on her high heels. The woman watched her walk away with bloodshot eyes, shaking her head in pity as she muttered under her breath, "Poor guy. His old man died soon after hearing of his death..."

Fate Fighters ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Alexandria stood watching them both, 'interesting, vampire guy wants to stay in Hollandis when he can't even control his thirst for blood' Alex thought. Alexandria is a wolf kid, her parents suspected she might have been deprived of powers, which is a curse to the werewolf clan one that could attract even a death sentence to the victim. Her parents decide to send her off to the human world, where she has to survive, with her unusual beauty, she goes through a lot. She later joins the National security and intelligence Academy in Hollandis_the human land where she learns to fight according to her parent's wishes. There she comes in contact with Regal the vampire prince, who had to escape his home after his father_the king, sudden death, he runs to Ben a human who is his father's friend and Alexandria's guardian. Alexandria is then stuck in the position of taking responsibility for him after knowing he is a vampire and could be dangerous to humans or refusing and sending him back to fang city, where he would either die or survive and come back for her. But they have one thing in common, to survive, they must both fight their unacceptable fate! "Regal Raymond, what do you want me to do, what if you harm someone, I can't always be there, who would take responsibility?" Ben asked, "she!" Regal said pointing suddenly at Alex. Alex, eyes widened in surprise "what?" Ben asked. "She would take responsibility for me" Regal repeated. "What! Me?" Alexandria exclaimed while eyeing him. "Why would I take responsibility for you? Who do you think you are Mister 'I know am handsome' huh? Alex mimicked. "Ben, she is incredibly strong, I just had a short encounter with her a while ago..."

My three-year-old son, Ethan, strayed into rogue territory and was brutally murdered. When the news reached me, I blacked out. I woke up to my Alpha mate, Alexander, gripping my hand tightly. His voice was hoarse with grief. "Ivy, I swear I will avenge Ethan. I will tear those damned rogues apart with my own claws." But three days later, at the funeral, I overheard a conversation between Alexander and his Beta, Marcus. "Alpha, I don't understand," Marcus sounded confused. "Why didn't you let the pack doctor save Ethan? He was only critically injured. If we had acted in time..." "It was Lucas. He accidentally pushed Ethan toward the rogue territory," Alexander’s voice was laced with pain. "Lucas was just a child who didn't know the rogue borders. He didn’t mean it." "If I let the doctor save Ethan, the boy would have told everyone the truth. Sophia would go to jail, and the Council would sentence Lucas to death. I couldn't let that happen." Alexander continued. "But what about the pack's heir?" Marcus asked, worried. "It doesn't matter," Alexander’s tone returned to a chilling calm. "Once Ivy calms down, I'll bring Lucas back. We’ll say he’s an adopted orphan and have the next Alpha raised by Ivy herself." So, the person who killed my son was his illegitimate child with his mistress. My son could have been saved, but Alexander sacrificed my Ethan for his bastard. I dialed a number I hadn't called in five years. "Dad, it's me. Ivy." "I’ve changed my mind," my voice was cold and steady. "I’m coming back to inherit the Royal Pack." "And what about the Moonstone Pack?" "I want the Moonstone Pack erased from existence."

"What am I to you? A trash picker?" I asked him sarcastically, looking at him from head to toe in disdain. "Lauren." he growled, clenching his fists tightly, glaring at me in disbelief. "Yeah, I know this is my name. You don't need to remind me, and please don't pop up in front of me like an unwanted ad in the middle of an interesting scene. You irritate me the most in this way." I scolded him, still with an ugly expression in disgust on my face. "So, now I disgust you, huh? Why didn't you disgust before when I." "Because I was a fool back then. I assumed a filthy rock as a gem and paid a heavy price for that." Before he could complete his sentence, I interrupted him, scolding him in a loud voice. His already widened angry eyes widened more in shock this time. I took a step forward while locking my gaze with him. "A scum like you who used me when he needed me and then slapped the divorce paper doesn't deserve even a glance from me, Gabriel. Never bother me again, or else what I will do to you, you can't even think about that." "Hey, babe. Why are you here?" I beamed when I heard his magnetic voice calling me from behind. I immediately moved towards him when Gabriel held my wrist. "You are making a mistake, Lauren," he warned me in a stiff voice. I yanked my hand from his grip and threw a disgusting gaze on him before walking towards the boy who treated me like a treasure. Gabriel’s devotion to his first love made me realize that loving myself is the only thing that can make me happy forever. I grabbed Vincent's arm with a beaming smile.

(Bxb) Eric Valence thought finding a job as an editor for a well-known author named Draven H. Malcolm was the beginning of his writing career. He had no idea that it would also be the beginning of his love story. *** "You're so clueless, it bothers me." He frowned, "What does that mean-" "You never wondered why I gave you all the best things on my floor - the closest desk, drinks from my office, my newest project. I even went to your house and picked you up to make sure you weren't late." "My portfoli-" "There are twenty three others with the same experience as yours, that was an excuse," he admitted, peering into Eric's eyes and daring him to look away. Eric didn't. Draven sighed, "The reason I got mad that day..." he paused for a moment, hesitating again but deciding to let it all out, "the reason I got mad is because I heard you kissed Jason, which I wasn't too pleased about but then seeing you and Justin together..." He never finished his sentence, and Eric raised an eyebrow, "What about Justin and I?" "I feel like you're doing this on purpose," Draven chuckled, examining Eric's confused face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about-" "I like you," Draven said clearly with his entire diaphragm, expression it as loud as he could for Eric to understand. Eric felt his throat squeeze itself shut, no oxygen coming in or out. "I like you, a lot more than I thought, Eric," he breathed. Eric was unable to believe it, shook his head and looked away for moment, before meeting his gaze again. "Why me?" he asked quietly. Draven shrugged his shoulders, eyeing Eric with adoration and admiration, "I'm not sure either, but I want you to be mine."

"Do you really think someone like you is worthy of love?" he whispered in Eleanor's ear, making her body shudder in fear. "I... I don't know," she stuttered, her voice trembling, eyes fixed on the ground to avoid his piercing gaze. "I would never love a weak wolf like you, an aberration," he spat with disdain, his words filled with anger. "You shame our kind, Eleanor!" She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his intense gaze. "Do you hate me for this?" she asked, her voice faltering. "Hate?" He tilted his head, a cruel smile forming on his lower lip. "Hate is too soft a word. I feel repulsion towards you, disgust at being tied to such an insignificant being." Eleanor fought back tears as she heard his next words. "I, Asher Bennett, future Alpha of the Bloody Moon Pack, reject Eleanor Parker as my mate!" he growled angrily, turning away with contempt. "Never dare to say you're my mate again, You have a choice, Eleanor. You can bow down and accept your miserable fate... or you can fight, like the fool you are, thinking you have any chance." "A miserable fate for a wretched girl, what more could Eleanor Parker expect? After being brutally rejected by her mate and betrayed by her stepsister, sold like an animal by those who wished her dead, she rises from the ashes beside the great and supreme Alpha King Lynca, the cruelest of all werewolves capable of killing anyone who dares to disobey him. "I thought I signed my death sentence with the bloodthirsty Alpha King, responsible for hundreds of deaths. Yet, he became my rebirth, making me feel alive. Love drew me toward the abyss between us, where I could easily lose myself." Eleanor sighed, meeting his mesmerizing arctic blue eyes.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.

How long does it take to give up on a man you've loved for ten years? It takes me 3 seconds. The first second, I signed my name on the contract to become the chief designer of a renowned studio in Paris. The second second, I lock away ten years of my youth in my heart. The third second, I completely prepare to leave Levi's world. My fiancé Levi is the heir of the Smith Group, the absolute aristocracy. For others, he is untouchable. But for me, he's the childhood sweetheart who, with a crooked paper ring he made himself for the first time in his hand, told me, "You're the only girl I'll ever marry, even if I have to wait a hundred years." From that moment on, the only person I wanted to marry was Levi, and I never doubted that I would eventually marry Levi. But on the day of our engagement, he disappeared. I waited for a whole year, waiting for a message, a phone call, or a knock on the door, but nothing came. Later, he finally appeared. He stood next to a red Ferrari, holding flowers, and said that he still loved me, that he wasn't ready before, and begged me to give him another chance. I almost believed him. But at the same time, I received a provocative message from Levi's first love, Ruby: [Aren't you curious where he went during the time he eloped from your engagement? I'm already pregnant with Levi's child, and he loves kissing my pregnant belly the most.] I wiped away my tears, turned around, and applied to study in the Sorbonne University Faculty of Medicine, leaving only one sentence: "Levi, we're breaking up." Learning that I was leaving, Levi went crazy. He braved the heavy rain and blocked the entrance to my new place, his eyes red, asking me: "Stella, if I make Ruby abort the child, can you come back to me?"

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

The night I died, my whole family was busy celebrating my twin sister Elena's eighteenth birthday. Everyone thought Elena was going to die the next day. We're elves. My father worked as a clan guardian, and after Mom gave birth to Elena and me as twins, she stopped working altogether. We should have been a happy family. But from the moment we were born, Elena and I were bound by a witch's curse. Because Elena came into the world one minute before me, she took the full weight of it onto herself. She was never supposed to live past eighteen. From the day we were born, Elena was the family's treasure. Mom and Dad treated me like I owed her something. New toys went to her first. New dresses were always her pick. Every night, Mom would sit in Elena's room for at least an hour before she'd turn off the light. I always fell asleep alone. One night I had a nightmare and ran barefoot to find Mom. She was holding Elena and didn't even look up. "Go back to bed. Stop making a fuss." I kept telling myself: she's dying, of course they're kind to her. But every time I let something go, that splinter in my chest pushed a little deeper. Then the day the curse was supposed to take effect finally came, and naturally, that was the day my stomach cramped so badly I could barely stand. Mom and Dad didn't hesitate. They shoved me into the cellar and locked it from outside. I crouched on the stone floor with the smell of mildew everywhere and knocked on the door over and over. "Mom... Dad... my stomach really hurts, I can't even stand up... let me out, please..." One sentence came back through the door. "Your sister is dying tonight! Can you just give us one day? One day!" "But... Mom... I'm scared..." Nobody answered after that. The cellar went quiet. My eyelids grew heavy. My last thought was: if I were the one dying of a curse, would they come hold me too.