Independence Quotes

Seven days before our wedding, Danny Wagner—my childhood sweetheart—got down on one knee for Mia Kant, the broke girl he'd been sponsoring. Right in front of me and his buddies. I didn't cry. Didn't lose it. Just slapped a smile on my face and said, "Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness." His buddies? Oh, they had the nerve to tell me to be generous and let Danny help Mia finish her "wish list." Danny, unsatisfied and ticked off, said I was overreacting and demanded an apology. Dismissive, he sneered, "I said I'd marry you after Mia's wish list was done. Stop being so unreasonable." I knew this was the last item on her list. I opened my notes app, scrolled to my wish list, and deleted all thirty-three bullet points. Done. Then I made a call. "I'm willing to marry you."

Gavin became Alpha right after our mating ceremony. His older brother, Damien—the former Alpha—was dead. Killed by a rival pack from the North. Gavin took his brother's mate, Sarah, and headed north. He claimed he was avenging his brother. He swore he'd expand our territory. He told me the expansion was too dangerous. He didn't want me to get hurt. So I was left behind. Left to rule a dying pack in the south, with only my healing gift to keep us from collapsing. I bled myself for healing serums, all to ensure his northern campaign didn't falter. Every time I sent word asking when our packs would merge, he'd give me an excuse. His position in the North was unstable. They'd just finished a war. It wasn't the right time. Seven years later, the pack couldn't hold on any longer. I sent Leon, my last remaining beta, to find Gavin. Leon’s message back told a different story. Gavin's new pack was already one of the three great powers in the North. And he had a pup with Sarah. A public one. Pain, sharp and swift, lanced through my chest. I marched to the pack elders and demanded they sever our mate bond. Then, I sent a message to the Healers' Guild that had been recruiting me for years: "I'm severing my bond. I'll be packless in three days. Tell the Guild I'm in."

On my wedding day, Levi Robbins' "close friend" Gina Fields suddenly fainted. Without hesitation, he dropped everything and rushed to the hospital, leaving me at the altar. My mother, witnessing this humiliating scene from her seat, suffered a heart attack. Yet, none of the guests bothered to help as they were too busy gossiping and laughing at my misfortune. By the time I managed to get her to the hospital, we had missed the critical window for treatment. Just then, Levi finally called, his voice urgent and demanding. "Caitlyn, where are you? Gina's condition is critical, and she needs your bone marrow!" "Levi, we're done," I said firmly, hanging up and walking away. This time, I would not look back.

During the New Year's Eve dinner, my pineapple juice was secretly swapped for alcohol. But I had taken cephalosporin earlier on. The doctors used a lot of effort to save me, but my wife, Jennifer Robinson, shielded the person who was responsible behind her. "This matter ends here. Be generous and forgive him. He didn't do it on purpose." I didn't plan on letting this man off so easily. He had an ambiguous relationship with my wife. But Jennifer interrupted me with a frown. "That's enough! He's only a fresh graduate. What's the point of making a fuss? Do you have to ruin the rest of his life to feel satisfied?" I looked at how my wife was protecting him and my heart sank. "Then you two can spend the rest of your lives together."

Yvette Skye has been diagnosed with depression. She thinks her parents will understand her situation, but all she gets is boundless mockery and doubt. After her affair with her sister’s boyfriend is found out, she dies in an accident. After her death, her biased parents suddenly start to regret their actions.

I ditched a shot at studying abroad to help my boyfriend, Gavin Censori, launch his startup. Stuck it out with him through seven brutal years. Then boom—success hit, and so did the ghosting. On Valentine's Day, he hit me with the classic "work's crazy" excuse. Instead of showing up, he had some random delivery dude drop off a box of cosmetic samples. Samples. Later that night, his secretary Rebecca popped up on my feed, flexing hard. Caption: [With a boss like this, why go home early?] Pic: A box of high-end makeup. Same brand. Hers weren't samples. I dropped a comment: [You're doing great at your sidechick job. Gold star.] Gavin called instantly, losing it. "What's your problem? She's just an employee! I bust my ass making money for you, and you're always jealous!" I laughed. Didn't even yell. Just dumped him. Seven years, and I'd never touched a dime of his. Joke's on him—his precious startup? Secretly bankrolled by me. Fast-forward three years. Business summit. He rolled in wearing a tailored suit. The second he spotted me with a bag of bottles, his smirk kicked in. "Didn't like those cosmetics I gave you, huh? Now look at you—reduced to bottle collecting?"

During the Labor Day team retreat, I had booked out the entire top floor of the Grand Summit Hotel. Yet, when my fiancee, Serena Wagner, found out, she was enraged. "Matthew Grant, are you out of your mind? Spending over 800,000 dollars to rent a place for one day? Since you're so rich and have nowhere else to splurge, just let me help you spend it!" Then, she called over our intern, Dylan Foster. She pointed at him and started yelling at me. "He only makes 6000 a month as an intern. Why don't you give him this money instead?" I looked at my colleagues standing nearby, their faces clearly uncomfortable. I replied calmly, "His salary isn't low compared to industry standards. Besides, the team-building budget belongs to everyone. Why should I give it all to him?" However, the moment those words left my mouth, Serena exploded. "I'm your finance director and your future wife! Of course, I get to control where your money goes. If you don't agree, then let's call off the engagement!" With that, she stormed off with Dylan. I silently picked up a bottle from the floor and poured myself three glasses. The first glass was for her, for being with me through the first half of my life. The second glass was for me, for having a clear conscience in this relationship. The third glass was for both of us. I wished us well as we parted ways and moved on with our separate lives.

When I started college, my new roommate secretly used my phone to take a selfie. She sent it to the guy I was in an online relationship with and added the caption: [Baby, do you think I'm beautiful?] My boyfriend replied with a giant question mark, followed by a voice message full of curses. "Just thinking about dating someone with that face makes me want to puke!" "Let's break up, you ugly freak. Stay far away from me!" By the time I got out of the shower and tried to explain, I realized he had already blocked me. My roommate, holding her own phone, smugly told me, "The streamer I've had my eye on just added me. He says he wants to start an online relationship." When I looked at the account, I saw it was none other than my ex-boyfriend.

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"

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.