Goodbye To Bloo

My mother was dying. Her only wish before she passed was to see me married. For 27 days, I begged my girlfriend, Monica Teller, and she finally agreed to register for marriage with me on the 27th day. I waited at the courthouse until closing, but she never came. That same day, her childhood sweetheart, Gurney Barnes, posted their marriage certificate on social media. [Time sure flies. Three more days, and we'll have been married for a month.] It was then I finally realized that she had married her childhood sweetheart since the first day I started begging her. Not long after, an apology text from Monica buzzed on my phone. [I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Gurney's family was forcing him into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch him get shackled to a stranger. Just give it three days. We'll file for divorce. Three days later, I'll marry you." Three days later, she showed up at the courthouse in a wedding gown, But the only thing waiting for her was my message. [Goodbye, Monica. May we never meet again.]

My husband, who's a negotiation expert, allows his intern to recklessly anger some criminals. It causes me, the hostage, to suffer severe injuries in the explosion, and my right leg breaks because of it. Yet, my husband once again issues a letter of forgiveness for her. "My wife, as a reporter, ignored warnings and forced contact with the criminals to get the scoop. The main responsibility lies with her. Kimberly, being a newcomer, should not bear major fault." I don't cry or make a scene. I simply pull out a divorce agreement. However, he sneers at me. "I know you're just jealous and want me to comfort you, but don't cross the line." For the past three years, I've brought up the topic of divorce 47 times, and each time, he treats it like I'm just throwing a tantrum. But it's different this time. His name has already been signed on this divorce agreement. As long as I add my signature to it, it will take effect immediately.

The ocean is quiet, the smell of the fresh air and the coldness of the wind that makes my heart float from mid-air. The sound of the waves that is splashing on the shore, the warm water from the ocean that gently touched my toes. I stared at the sky to prevent the tears from crawling down to my lashes. " I'm ready Dilan" " phew" I released a heavy sigh " this is it" I stood up and walked slowly near the shore. " hey stop!! Stop" I heard someone shouted, but I don't care at all, right now all I need is to remove all the pain that I am feeling right now, I need to end this suffering, I need to follow him I loved him. " Hey what do you think you are doing, " the man wearing a black polo shirt said as he pulled me back to the shore " I... I want to end this," I said as I cry like a baby " Hey mung, don't do that.. think of your family, friends," he said I don't even know this person and why the heck is he invading my life I stared at him and I was shocked when I saw his face, am I dreaming? Is this real? What the hell? There are things that science can't explain. Is this a blessing from up above? Or did Dilan gave me this man because he knows that I will be lonely without him? I find something interesting, Dilan gave me something to treasure, to love and to trust.

The day Pedro Palmer's mom was supposed to get my kidney, I ghosted. He waited outside the OR for ten hours. What did he get? A death notice. After that, he went full beast mode on his career. Five years later, his company blew up. Media darling. CEO. Power suit. And yeah, he was holding another girl's hand, all smiles for the cameras. "Do you have anything to say to Ruth Rackham? We heard she supported your early days," a reporter asked. Not even a pause. "Yeah. Thanks for vanishing. For letting my mom die with questions. For wrecking me. She taught me not to trust anyone." He stepped in closer, eyes cold. "This is what you wanted, Ruth? Too bad. Love's gone. And you? Not even worth my hate." That's when Nellie Lyon, the reporter, went pale. "Mr. Palmer... Ruth Rackham died five years ago. She was the test subject. She donated her body—before she passed..."

"I need an answer, Collins. Or is your guilt eating you up so bad that..." "There is no guilt," he deadpans, the weight of his words resting on my shoulders, making them sag in sorrow. "It was only a matter of time until you found out. I want to say I'm sorry, but that would be me lying..." Blood rushes to my ears. I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What? You're... you're not — " "No," he shrugs. "You brought this upon yourself." "Excuse me? I made you cheat?" "Yes." ----------------------- When hotshot billionaire mogul Collins Black propositions her to be his wife, twenty-two-year-old, script writer Anna Whitfield believes she's the luckiest woman on earth. But things quickly go sour when one year later, she discovers that Collins has been cheating on her with her best friend, Diana. What's worse? Collins proposes to Diana on a night which is supposed to be the most important night of her life. Enraged, and frustrated, Anna begs the nearest man she can find for a kiss to spite her ex-husband. But the man who obliges isn't just any man, but the most powerful mafia don in Russia. Viktor Ivanov. [NOTE: This is an ex-husband/mafia romance. You’re guaranteed to have a swell time reading. Do enjoy]

Love does not always look like salvation, sometimes, it looks like ruination. For six years, Sara has lived in the shadows of her own marriage. Hidden, humiliated and disgraced, over and over again. Her husband's hatred of her has striped away every layer of her identity. She is empty, she has given and given. Now, there's nothing left to give. Sara has had enough. She is filing for a divorce and needs separation from her husband. She is determined to make something good out of her life, and leave Derek Marshall behind. Just when she is almost free, she stumbles on a devastating secret, a secret that unravels her life. Now, Sara has to chose between the man who has broken her heart, lied to her, broke her trust over and over again, and, the promise of a better, simpler, easier life. Sara and Derek find themselves, stuck between a bullet and a heartbreak. Quite literally.

When I received the news that my fiancé, Ellison Perez, had postponed our wedding for the 18th time, I happened to be walking out of the hospital, clutching my medical report. Once again, he had delayed our wedding for an entire month, all because of my adopted foster sister, Becky. I thought about what the doctor had told me. After hesitating for a long time, I finally dialed Ellison's number. "I can't wait until next month. If we can't get married tomorrow, there won't be another chance." However, Ellison only took my words as another fit of childish willfulness. "Don't be unreasonable, Lily. Have you forgotten how Becky took your place as the hostage? She was tortured for a whole month before being rescued." "It's because of you that she developed severe trauma. Now you can't even wait one more month for her to recover?" I could hear my parents' voices chiming in over the line. "Becky still suffers from extreme fear of men. Ellison is the only one who can calm her down. Isn't it your fault she ended up like this?" "You're being selfish, Lily. A wedding can wait, but Becky's condition can't!" I had known for a long time that ever since that incident, my entire family had chosen Becky's side. Even so, tears streamed down my face. "Fine," I said softly. "Postpone it." I clenched the medical report tightly in my hand. They did not know that just moments ago, the doctor had told me the truth— I was in the final stage of liver cancer. I only had one month to live.

Five years and a divorce paper in my hand before I realized that I invested my time, effort and devotion to the wrong man. Trapped in a corner with nothing left to my name, I was willing to bargain with my ex-husband for my daughter’s sake. But then, a savior, my husband’s new boss came to rescue me from the financial quagmire I was in. He helped me recover what I lost: my dignity, pride and most importantly, he gave me hope. I thought he was the perfect man. But the illusion shattered when his motives came to bite me in the face. He was in this for revenge, and his target was me.

“Please! Jason! Pick up the phone!” Finally, someone picked up, but it wasn’t Jason. “Didn’t Jason tell you that he has no time for you today? He’s busy. Why do you keep calling?” The voice on the other end was Laura, Jason’s ex. The realization that Jason was with her while I and his unborn child were battling for our lives after an accident was a betrayal too painful to bear. If I survive, can I ever forgive him?

Buxton Corp's CEO got his ex back. The cost? His pregnant wife vanished without a word. Month One: Calvin didn't flinch. Too busy worshiping his so-called true love. Month Two: His buddies placed bets on when Angela would come crawling home. Month Three: Panic hit. He sent scouts everywhere to find me. Nothing. Not a whisper. After that, "Angela Astor" turned into a curse word in Auremburg. But what no one saw? He missed her so bad at night, it nearly broke him.