Moblit Attack On Titan

Ten years ago, I ditched a high-paying job for my family. A decade later, they asked for my kidney—supposedly for my daughter, Talia. Turns out, the real patient was Hudson's first love's son. They didn't even fake remorse. Hudson sneered, convinced I couldn't survive without him. Talia called me old and fat, acting like I should be grateful to help Bianca's kid. A whole decade of sacrifice, and what did I get? No love. No thanks. Just entitlement. To them, I was nothing but a free, disposable maid. So I walked. No regrets. I rebuilt my life, found a job, and never looked back. Then reality smacked them. Hudson and Talia finally realized everything I'd done. They begged me to come back—but my heart was already stone-cold. In the end, I left the country, threw myself into work, and finally learned what it meant to live.

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars. After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life. It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son. “Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!” My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.” It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!

We’re preparing to move into a new house, and when my husband’s best female friend found out, she decided to move in with us. I was about to object, but my husband immediately agreed. To make things worse, he even gave my daughter’s master bedroom, which was meant to be her children’s room, to her son and made our daughter move to the basement. When I voiced my disagreement, he dismissed it, saying, “Grace is my close friend; don’t overthink it. Her son is like my son; of course, I want him to have a better room.” When I still stood my ground, my husband and his family began criticizing me, calling me selfish. Unable to stand their unfairness, I moved out with my daughter. It was then they realized my absence and became anxious.

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.

On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Oliver Parker, asks me to take off my wedding gown. He wants to let his childhood friend, Angela Summers, be the bride instead. In helplessness, he tries to explain, "Angela has leukemia. Her dying wish is to be a bride and have a wedding. Once I've fulfilled her wish, I'll marry you." Everyone seems to think I'll just go along with it and wait for him to come back and marry me. After all, I've spent three years preparing for this wedding. I've poured my heart into every detail and devoted so much time to making it perfect. However, while Oliver and Angela celebrate their wedding that night, I gave my biological parents a call to tell them I'm coming to be with them. I board a red-eye flight out of Stonevale, leaving everything behind without looking back. … Three years later, I flew back to Stonevale with my husband, Daniel Holden, to attend the anniversary celebration of the Holden Group's Stonevale branch. However, I never expected to run into Oliver at the airport. "You've been gone for three years. Isn't that enough time to let things go? Angela's leukemia is cured, and we're divorced now. Come back to me. Let's finally have our wedding. Don't be so stubborn anymore!"

At 4:00 a.m., my husband, Rocco, gently shook me awake. His voice was a low murmur, . "Alessia, my love, could you do something for me?" But his next words shattered the illusion. "Scarlett is hungry. Go make her some seafood soup." Scarlett was our maid, and she was also Rocco's pregnant goomar. "I just had fresh seafood delivered. Get to the kitchen and make her a bowl of soup. Just for Falcone's heir." I refused, my voice cold. His anger flared in an instant. "Don't be so unreasonable, Alessia." "Is it really so hard for you to make some soup?" I shook my head, silent. He stroked my cheek, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. "Fine, Alessia. So you've learned to defy me now." "Think carefully, Alessia. Do you really want to keep your place as a Falcone?" "And your position as the family's lawyer? Think about whether you still want these… then give me your answer." Seeing the arrogance in Rocco's eyes, the last ember of love I had for this man died. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "I want out of the Falcone family."

Five years into my relationship with a Godfather-to-be, I realized Cicio Russo had fallen for someone else. And I decided that the choice should be his. I laid the options right in front of him: break up with me, or send that someone else far away overseas. Cicio Russo stood outside my windows all night, down there with the coldness of the night cutting through him and fogging his breath. By morning, Cicio told me that he'd decided. His choice was me. Or at least - that was what I was made to believe. Surprise came on the very day of our wedding, a strange little boy ran straight down the aisle that was supposed to be mine to walk. “Daddy,” he cried at Cicio and Cicio’s face of stony indifference, “What about me? You have left mommy already. Are you going to abandon me, too?” The ring slipped from Cicio’s hand and hit the carpet with a muted thud. He turned his back on me and walked away without even looking back. I pulled off the white veil. And I snatched the microphone from the host. “If you take one more step,” I screamed into the microphone, “if you leave, I will give all this up. And you, too. Do you hear me? I will give you up.” He froze. For only one second. Then he stepped away anyway.

It took me ten years to become the right hand to Damian Costello, the Consigliere of the Costello crime family. From a nobody to the woman wearing his engagement ring. But two weeks before the wedding, I decided to throw that ring away. Everyone in the family knew how hard I had fought all these years just to stand by Damian's side. I gave up the chance to become a top trader on Wall Street, willingly becoming Damian's assistant, his shadow. This man was infamous for his coldness and exacting nature, keeping everyone at arm's length. So I hid my sharp edges, spending a decade wearing down his icy exterior with gentleness. I cleansed the blood from every dollar he made. I became a necessity to him, as essential as the air he breathed. I thought that after ten years, I had finally made my presence indispensable. And finally earned what looked, to outsiders, like a glimmer of his affection. The family's notoriously aloof genius actually remembered my birthday. He even made an exception, letting me spend the night in his private study when I was unwell. He didn't even push me away when, emboldened by wine, I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. If the Don's daughter, Isabella, hadn't returned from Italy, I might have kept playing my part, clinging to that false dream forever. But sadly, there are no ‘ifs’. I am going to give up everything here and leave you.

At eight months pregnant, I was hit by a car and gave birth early. But unexpectedly, I regained my hearing. Outside the operating room, my husband was talking to the doctor. “Mr. Griffin, the baby is fully developed and stable. A normal delivery should be possible—” Albert Griffin cut him off immediately, “No, induce the labor now! I promised Summer that I would let our child rightfully join the Griffin family. Paulina is almost a month old. If she gets any older, people will figure out the truth. “If this baby doesn’t make it, that’s fine. She can always have another one. But this is the only way she will truly believe that Paulina is her own child.” I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself to stay calm. He thought his lies were perfect, but he was wrong. I heard everything. And if he could lie and pretend, so could I.

The company had just taken off when a project my wife, Lenora Peterson, was in charge of ran into trouble. To ease her mind during her pregnancy, I went overseas in her stead, spending ten perilous years abroad before finally returning home, barely alive. Instead of the joyful reunion I had imagined, she greeted me with cold detachment and thinly veiled disgust. "Why are you back?" Lenora asked. "Today is Nathan’s housewarming party," she added. "Let’s head there first—we’ll talk later." We rode in silence the entire way. When we arrived, a ten-year-old girl came dashing over and clung to Lenora affectionately. “Mommy, why did you take so long? Daddy’s been waiting for you forever!” Daddy? My eyes burned with rage—until I saw my old friend Nathan Grant stepping out to greet us with a smile. "Lily, come to Daddy. Mommy’s tired—don’t bother her now." When I met Lenora’s eyes, the guilt I saw there told me everything I needed to know. I turned away and texted my assistant, Morgan Williamson, to begin acquiring the company that, by right, had always belonged to me. He soon reported back. "Mr. Brooke, the acquisition process will be completed in three days."