Multiple Male Deer Crossword Clue

Five years ago, I lost my memory in a car accident. Eira Jones had claimed she was my beloved. She saved me, cared for me, and we naturally got married. For five years, I managed every aspect of our home for her. As I tended to her every need with unwavering devotion, I was convinced I was the happiest husband in the world. But as I was about to tidy up the study, I overheard Eira and her childhood sweetheart talking. “Eira, these past five years, Vedran Clarus has been utterly devoted to you. He just hasn’t chewed your food for you! I’m getting jealous.” Eira kissed his cheek affectionately. “Silly boy, those chores are his responsibility. I’d never let you do them.” Furious, I burst through the door and accused Reed Harris of being a shameless homewrecker. But to my shock, he showed his marriage certificate to Eira. He declared that I was the third wheel in their relationship. As we shoved each other about, my head slammed into the bookshelf, and my memories returned. Apparently, I was the sole heir to the city’s wealthiest, the Grant family. I watched as Eira ranted accusations at me, and the fair-faced, pretty boy in her arms feigned hurt. I turned and dialed my childhood sweetheart’s number. “Elena Gibson, your fiance is being bullied!”

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

Grandma lay bedridden, her dementia taking hold as she repeated Scarlett Hayes's name over and over. Tears streamed down my face as I dialed my wife's number. When she picked up, Scarlett sounded irritated. She said she was working late tonight and would call me back when she was free. I could clearly hear the sound of a man's laughter in the background. The moment I hung up, Grandma gasped sharply. She called out my wife's name. It was her last breath. While I sat drowning in grief, Scarlett's male best friend Chase Morrison posted a video update, geotagged at a couples' hotel. In the video, their fingers were laced together. The woman's arm bore a distinctive black mole I recognized instantly. The caption read: "When two hearts become one, why care what anyone else thinks?" In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I gritted my teeth and left a comment. "Let's file for divorce tomorrow. Then you two can be together openly and legally. You'll even save on the hotel fees. Win-win, right?"

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

Days before my wedding, I received a video of my fiancee, Alice Moore, being violated against her will. By the time I find her, she's covered in bruises, her body bare. She wails as she punches me in the chest, demanding to know why I didn't come to her sooner. She says her life has been ruined. As I hold her close, I make her a promise, saying that I would never scorn her. I even promise to give her 10% of my company shares as a wedding gift, hoping that it will put her at ease. Everyone says I've lost my mind for going to such lengths for a woman who has been sullied by another man. But then, I end up overhearing Alice giggling away with her friend in the bathroom. "That fool actually believed me and thought I'd been abducted. Cole and I went at it for three days in a row. I had the best time of my life! Oh, well. Since I can't marry Cole, my only option is to let him be the first man I take to bed before I get married." Miranda exclaims in shock, "What if Luke finds out about it? Aren't you afraid of that happening?" "He's a complete idiot. He even promised to give me his company shares as a wedding gift!" Alice retorted derisively. "There's no way he'd find out about this. I'm only marrying him because his family is one of the richest in the city. Otherwise, you couldn't even pay me to date him. Who would want a guy as boring as him?" I remain frozen outside the bathroom, feeling like I'd just taken a plunge into icy water. So be it, then. The wedding ceremony will proceed as scheduled, but I'll have to make some adjustments as to who the bride will be.

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

On the day my wife, Abigail Jefferson, and Dominic Gorman, the university student she has been sponsoring, post their pre-wedding photos on their social media feed, I don't lash out at them crazily as I usually do. Instead, I leave a like and a comment on their posts. "You two make a great couple. Everyone, let's give our blessings to the newlyweds." Everyone in elite society thinks of me as the most cowardly husband ever, who lets the side piece make a doormat out of him. One week later, Abigail comes home and explains, "This is just an act. Dominic's grandma is ill, and she wishes to see him get married before she passes away." I just nod calmly in return. "I didn't take it seriously. Of course, I believe you." In my previous life, I showed up at Abigail and Dominic's wedding to cause chaos for them. Naturally, their wedding couldn't go on because of me. Abigail began targeting my parents' company in order to punish me. My parents ended up going bankrupt and were forced to jump off a building. She had me admitted into a mental asylum, where I was tortured to insanity. Now that I'm given a second chance in life, I no longer yearn for Abigail's love. I just want her money this time. Every time she cheats on me, I'll transfer some of her assets to my name. Abigail now has three more chances before she ends up losing everything.

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company. The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.” The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea. A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message: “Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.” “A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.” I laughed in disbelief. Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry. So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.” Less than five minutes later, that post was updated: “Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

Everyone in Harbor City knew I had a wife whom everyone envied. Not only was she a wealthy heiress, but a celebrated lawyer, untouchable and elegant. However, in private, she was a delicate, devoted wife. I had planned to tell her the truth on our wedding anniversary—that I was the heir to one of Jinmist City's most powerful families—and take her home. However, on her birthday, I walked in on her being pinned to a car and forcefully kissed by her new assistant, with pieces of her torn clothing scattered everywhere. I lost control. The assistant ended up in the ICU, and I ended up in court. To my shock, my wife turned on me in court, falsely accusing me of malicious assault, while saying nothing about the assistant’s attempt. I was sentenced to three years in prison. In the visitation room, I demanded answers, but she remained calm. “You’re my husband. Even if you go to prison, I still love you.” “But Daniel is different. He comes from a poor family. If he’s charged with attempted assault, his life would be ruined forever.” At that moment, my hope shattered. Fine. If she didn’t want the title of wife to the Millers' heir, I’d just have to take it back.

After my elder brother passed away, I took my sister-in-law home. She and my wife were identical twins. I always mixed them up. Fortunately, my wife had a red mole on her upper body. “Wyatt, can you tell my elder sister and me apart?” My wife pestered me while throwing amorous glances my way. I eyed her fair upper body and replied confidently, “Of course…”