Good Traits In A Boyfriend

Elena Monroe devoted her life to her husband and son, pouring every ounce of love into their little family. But love wasn’t enough. The man she cherished sought comfort elsewhere, and the child she raised with all her heart wished for a different mother. The ultimate betrayal came when her son innocently declared, “The three of us look more like a family than with my mommy.” That day, Elena’s world shattered. But she didn’t beg. She didn’t fight. She simply walked away—leaving behind her past, her marriage, and even her child. With ruthless determination, she buried her pain and focused on building an empire. The woman everyone underestimated rose from the ashes, amassing a fortune of over 100 billion. Now, she’s untouchable—adored by the media, respected by rivals, and worshipped by a man who sees her worth. But fate isn’t done playing games. Her ex-husband, drowning in regret, wants her back. Her son, now desperate for her love, longs for the mother he once pushed away. Yet, Elena is no longer the woman who once pleaded for their love. This time, they are the ones begging—while she stands beside a man who would rather burn the world than let her go. They lost her once. They won’t get a second chance.

My boyfriend is a forensic artist. He was forced to make a harrowing decision to save his first love. At the killer's demand, he created a portrait from a photo—he never realized that the young girl in the photo was me in my childhood. Two weeks later, the police investigate a grisly bomb explosion and dismemberment case. The victim's identity was unrecognizable, and the investigation dragged on for days as the authorities desperately searched the blast site, looking for my remains. After three days and nights, they finally recovered enough of my remains to reconstruct my face. When my boyfriend unknowingly brought the shattered fragments back to life with his art, he was confronted with a horrifying truth—one that drove him to the edge of madness.

My mother had been hospitalized. My boyfriend worked as a doctor at the same hospital. You would think he would have visited her often, but he never did. Not once. On the first day of her stay, he did not come because he had taken a day off. His childhood friend was moving, and she needed his help. On the second day, that same childhood friend appeared at the hospital as an intern. He followed her everywhere and showed her the ropes. He handled anything she asked for, no matter how small. It went on like that, day after day. My mother's ward was on the thirteenth floor. His office was on the seventeenth. All it would have taken was a ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs. Even so, Sebastian did not visit her for more than twenty days. My mother recovered. I picked her up by myself and took her to the train station. While I was on the way, he texted me. Sebastian: [Suzy's pet dog is getting vaccinated today. I need to drive her there first.] This time, I replied. [Got it. Drive safely. By the way, we're over.]

After I slips and falls in the bathroom, I calls out to my boyfriend, Jared Hammond, for help. But all he does is accuse me of trying to seduce him in my wet clothes. "None of your tricks are going to work! I'm not touching you until Elsie graduates!" he yells. He rushes out to help Elsie Sandberg—the younger sister of his first love, who passed away—with her thesis, ignoring my cries and slamming the door behind him. The pain's so intense I nearly black out, but I manage to use the last of my strength to call an ambulance. Later, the doctor tells me I've suffered a serious fracture and need to be hospitalized. I tried to call Jared over ten times, but he never picks up. Then, I see Elsie's latest Instagram post. "Help! How do I win over a ridiculously hot professor?" The photo shows Jared's hand resting on hers as he patiently walks her through her thesis proposal, again and again. After being discharged from the hospital, I agreed to the marriage that Mom and Dad set up. "Yeah. The sooner the wedding, the better," I said.

Everyone knew—Jessica Conway had always adored Jack Murray. They were high school lovers, and everyone just assumed they would get married eventually and live happily ever after. But then, there was Abby Conway, Jessica's elder sister who was "gravely ill." On the eve of Jessica and Jack's wedding, he said, "Jess, your sister's really really sick. Let's give her a chance to be the bride for now, alright? You know you're the one I love." Abby echoed, "Jess, promise me you'll come to the wedding, okay?" Jessica clutched the stomach cancer diagnosis in her hands and said nothing. On the wedding day, she never showed up. Jack, realizing her absence, abandoned the ceremony and rushed home—only to find the house empty. The only thing left behind was a single sheet of paper: her final diagnosis. For three days and three nights, Jack knelt before Jessica, begging for a second chance. But she never forgave him. Not even in death.

Eight years ago, a night of drunken recklessness left me carrying Grayson Ulrich's child. But from that moment on, he began to hate both me and our daughter. He never allowed her to call him "Dad." He wouldn't let me step into his study, either. Because inside that study, every inch of space was filled with traces of another woman—Sandra Wright, the ex-fiancée who had once left him for freedom and happiness, who had gone abroad to marry a rich man. She was the one Grayson could never forget. The one he still loved. On our eighth anniversary, Sandra returned. That night, Grayson got drunk for the first time in years. He held our daughter in his arms and wept until his eyes were red. My daughter looked at me, bewildered. "Mom, why is Uncle crying?" I held back my tears and told her softly, "Because he is very happy. The person he loves has finally come back." Then I said, "So, Mommy's taking you away—so we won't disturb him and the woman he loves, okay?"

When I was seven months pregnant, my husband, Brandon Adkins, got into a car accident. I held my belly and rushed over as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, his body was already mangled beyond recognition. The shock hit so hard that I started bleeding right there. At my lowest point, it was the eldest son of the Elledges who got me to the hospital and handled Brandon's funeral. Three years later, Brandon showed up out of nowhere, holding his first love. He pulled me into a tight embrace, voice soft as he explained, "I'm sorry. Alanna was terminally ill. Her last wish was to travel the world. I was afraid you wouldn't agree, so I faked my death. "Now that her wish has been fulfilled, we can go back to the way things were." I looked into his affectionate eyes, then shoved him away in disgust. "Too bad for you. In the three years you were gone, I got engaged to someone else."

At our seventh wedding anniversary party, Caleb Thorne shares a drink with his childhood sweetheart. My face darkens, and he publicly snaps at me in front of everyone. "It's just playful fun between friends—why are you so uptight? If I really had something going on with Emma, do you think you'd ever have become my wife?" He storms off in anger. That same night, his childhood sweetheart updates her social media banner to a photo of her holding hands with Caleb. In the past, I would've rushed to her house without a second thought, dragged Caleb out, and demanded to know if he ever truly loved me. But this time, I don't care anymore.

When I found out I was pregnant, Elroy Lousteau went all out—hired some fancy doctor, loaded me up with meds to "protect the baby." He'd never believed in anything before, but suddenly he went to church, praying like his life depends on it. "You've been through hell, babe. Once the baby's here, I swear I'll make it right." That same day, I picked up his phone by accident. "As instructed, the meds include a compound for permanent infertility. The baby will be stillborn. "Ms. Tillon's baby is healthy and will be delivered safely—as the true Lousteau heir. "Mrs. Lousteau won't suspect a thing. Your relationship's secure. You can rest assured." I looked down at my belly. He never loved me. Not really. So I made up my mind—once the divorce papers were signed, I was gone. No looking back.

Hannah Smith is a doting wife to her Billionaire business tycoon husband Xander Miller. To everyone’s eyes, she is a gold digger, a person who got lucky to get in bed and get pregnant by the cold-hearted Billionaire. Little did everyone know Hannah's existence in Xander's world saved him from the scandal caused by his first love 3 years ago but instead of giving Hannah--his wife the love, and respect she deserves, he treated her like a servant. And the moment, his first love returned to the country he threw divorce papers to his devoted wife. Hannah accepted the inevitable end of their loveless marriage wholeheartedly but when she was threatened with losing her child she was forced to fight back. Fueled with rage and memory of the abuse she experienced from her ex-husband and in-laws. Hannah vowed to seek vengeance and bring chaos to the most influential family in Texas.