Independence Quotes

After returning from studying abroad, I prepared to honor my childhood betrothal. But on the very day I went to pick up my wedding gown, I saw my million-dollar couture dress worn by a poverty-stricken girl whom my fiancé had been secretly supporting. When I demanded the gown back, I was scolded as a homewrecker and mocked as a loveless hag. My fiancé excused her, saying the girl had never seen the world, and I should be more accommodating. Well, I've always loved charity. If giving away a million-dollar dress counts as charity, then fine—I'll even let go of the engagement, too. But let it be known: not just anyone can be engaged to the Vance heiress.

My husband, Alex Carter, is a top AI engineer. He one day gets drugged by a new intern at his company, and one night of chaos follows. He calls me the next morning, his voice hoarse from a hangover and filled with unfamiliar panic. "Em, I messed up. But don't worry. I gave her enough money to disappear from this city." After ten years together, I believe it is just a momentary lapse in judgment. Six months later, Alex's company suffers the worst cyber attack in its history, with core data hanging by a thread. I rush back from a fragrance exhibition in Astral, only to witness a scene at the data center entrance that sends me into shock. Alex stands outside the tightly sealed door, his face showing a weariness and guilt I have never seen before. The doctor says that the intern, Brooke Anderson, is three months pregnant and has spent 72 hours with him in the high-radiation server room. Now, she shows signs of miscarriage. Later, Brooke gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The entire Carter family is ecstatic. I remove the wedding ring that has accompanied me for ten years, my fingertips turning ice cold. I dial the number saved with only one letter "S" and say, "Mr. Sullivan, I accept the collaboration you proposed last time." A low, soft laugh comes from the other end of the line. "Ms. Emma Shaw, that's a wise decision."

It was New Year's Eve. We were streaming live when my brother called. I spoke first, "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He gave a cold laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't want you to have any of that. I hope you spend the rest of your life in misery." I'd cut him off the year he was flat broke. Now that he was successful, this was the first thing he did—get back at me. I kept my tone calm. "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He sounded annoyed. "Cut it out. There's no way I'm wishing you well. If I have to say something, then I hope you stay miserable forever." The host hesitated, then chimed in, "Ben, that was just a recording of Hailey's message. And yes, when she left… she was in a lot of pain and quite miserable, just like you hoped for."

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”

"Your application for the exchange program has been approved, Isla. You're the only person who got through, so congratulations!" Isla Stokerton feels at peace when she hears the good news from her professor, Richard Langham. "Thanks, Mr. Langham. I'll make sure to achieve great things and not disappoint you."

My fiancé is the heir to a mafia empire. For seven years, I believed our love was the one true thing in a world built on lies. Then, on the night of our engagement party, I found him holding another woman — my own half-sister, the daughter of our family’s oldest enemy — whispering words that shattered everything: "I regret everything. Come back to me, and I’ll call off the wedding." I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I made a phone call instead. Three weeks later, on what should have been our wedding day, I erased my identity and vanished from his world. But not before making sure our wedding would be one he — and every family in the underworld — would never forget.

Just as Justin proposed to me, a phone call interrupted him. Standing close by, I clearly heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Justin, I’m hurt. My leg hurts so much!” Justin snapped the ring box shut and looked at me. “Alice is injured. I’ll have to do this another time.” With those words, he sprinted away, leaving everyone around us staring in astonishment. I had never met Alice, but her presence lingered in every corner of our lives.  At meals, Justin would mention her fondness for sweet desserts.  When I dressed, I came to know her love for soft lavender hues. I argued, I wept, I lashed out, but Justin always countered with the same line. “You’re so jealous. Everyone has their first love. She’s my past, but you’re my future.” So, I turned to a man who had once called me his first love—Quentin—and made a bold proposition. “Let’s get married.”

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!

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

The night I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents, my dad insisted on playing cards with some relatives. When he came back, he collapsed to his knees in front of me, crying. Not only had he lost half a million dollars, but he had even gambled away my boyfriend to my cousin. He slapped himself and begged me for forgiveness. However, instead of yelling at him, I helped him to his feet. Then, I took out the savings I’d set aside for my future wedding and the deed to my house. “Let’s gamble one more time.”