Ordination Certificate Template Novels & Stories

Emma Blanton twists her ankle, and my fiance, Matthew Harrison, insists on becoming her personal chauffeur. When I voice my disapproval, he makes an even more outrageous decision. He moves Emma into my apartment at Bellemont District—the apartment I bought with my own money. He argues like he's the victim, "You're being selfish. She's injured, and living alone is too dangerous for her right now. I'm just being a decent human being. "And that place is sitting empty anyway. Having someone there helps with security." On the morning we were supposed to get our marriage certificate, he doesn't show up. I call, expecting apologies. Instead, I hear, "Emma had a fever this morning—101 Fahrenheit. I had to take her to urgent care. We can postpone getting the marriage certificate. Her health can't wait." To hell with postponing! I grab my phone and call David Rockefeller. "Do you want to marry me? Then get to City Hall. I'm serious—right now."

My newlywed husband forces me, a late-stage liver cancer patient, to drink hard liquor just to please his secretary. When the secretary later stages a setup, pretending to take a knife for him, she loses too much blood. In a panic, he demands that I give her a blood transfusion. I name my price—ten million dollars. He sneers. "Your blood really is worth its weight in gold, huh?" Of course it is. A liver cancer patient's blood doesn't come cheap. Later, when his precious secretary crashes into my car, he mocks me again. "You caused the accident on purpose, didn't you? Stop pretending—you just want more money. Wendy Yaeger, you disgust me." I'm done. All I want now is to get that divorce certificate before I die, but he looks down at me with disdain. "Don't use such pathetic tricks to get my attention. You're not even qualified to negotiate with me." Fine. Once I'm dead, the marriage will end on its own.

"I sold my soul to the devil to save my life, only to find out the devil wanted my heart.” “One year. No feelings. Just a contract. When the time is up, you leave with nothing.” Gabrielle Daniels was the discarded "Jewel" of the Daniels family, drugged and sold by her stepmother to pay off her father’s gambling debts. To escape a fate worse than death, she crawls into the suite of the most dangerous man in Celios City—Ethan Shore, the cold-blooded "Emperor" of the Shore Corporation. She thought he was her temporary shield. He thought she was just another gold-digger. But when Gabrielle tears up his five-million-dollar check and demands a marriage certificate instead, the game changes. Under the silk sheets and behind the closed doors of the Shore Estate, a "contract" becomes a battlefield of desire. As her enemies conspire to ruin her and ghosts from the past return to claim Ethan’s heart, Gabrielle must decide: Is she a pawn in his corporate war, or is she the only woman capable of taming the beast? He thought he bought a wife. He didn’t realize he’d met his match.

When it comes to love, is Second chance truly the charm?*****Amelia Ross’s contract marriage with her billionaire boss came to an end when the one woman he’s been dying to have for years suddenly returned to town. Her heart got broken as she’d started developing feelings for her hot boss but knowing it was a contract marriage, she gathered the remaining pieces of her shattered heart and left town after being paid off by her boss, Ryan Davidson. Unluckily for her, she realized she was carrying his child a few months after the abrupt end of their contract. With no intentions of returning to him, she raised the baby and began a new life, from scratch. But just when things have finally begun to go well for her and she’s met a man that has healed her broken heart, Ryan stepped into her life again, laying claims to not just her, but to the child.What made it more infuriating was that he showed up with a marriage certificate, one that very much proved they were still married.To know more about my books, follow me on Instagram @sophia.bendel

In this life, I refuse Ray Leger's suggestion to go live in the south with him. Instead, I go to the north alone and devote myself to the national translation service. It is because in my previous life, I leave my hometown and follow him to a southern city. In the end, I become nothing more than a cash cow supporting him and Shannon Cross. I work during the day and take on translation jobs at night. Eventually, I collapse and cough up blood from exhaustion, only to hear Ray's disgusted remark. "Nora Spencer, you really are useless. It has only been ten years, and you've already outlived your usefulness!" I lift my head in a daze, and what I see are the mocking expressions on his and Shannon's faces. Just before I die, I learn that our marriage certificate is fake. It is just Ray's excuse to trick me into going to the south with him. When I open my eyes again, I see Ray trying to lure me with marriage once more. "Nora, as long as you come to the south with us, I will register our marriage right away!"

The doctor said my husband Ethan had dual personality. His primary personality was gentle and devoted. His alter — "Axel" — was reckless and wild. In five years of marriage, every time Axel surfaced, he'd fall for a different woman. Each time, I'd have to pull out our marriage certificate, walk him through our love story from the beginning, just to bring Ethan back. This time, Axel had set his sights on the new dance instructor. I dropped what I was doing at work, ready to go collect him from the psychiatrist's office — same as always. But outside the treatment room, I heard him on the phone with one of his buddies, laughing: "What can I say — I'm a hell of an actor. Five years and she still hasn't caught on." "Besides, why settle for the wife at home when there's so much more fun out there?" The panic I'd been feeling went very, very still. I pulled up my lawyer's number and texted him: Get the divorce papers ready.

After two years of marriage, Khloe Roswell went to reissue her marriage certificate—and discovered the document she'd cherished was a forgery. Determined to confront her husband, Trey Fox, she instead overheard the devastating truth: the man who had tenderly cared for her for six years had, in fact, been married for five—to their university’s advisor, who was six years older than him. She wasn't just his cover; he had branded her barren and forced her to raise his child with another woman. Disgusted, Khloe called the lawyer about her inheritance. Her declaration was simple and left no room for doubt. "I am unmarried. I have no children. The assets are mine, and mine alone." With that, she walked away without a backward glance. Trey, smug and convinced she had nowhere to go, waited for her to come crawling back. He never imagined the day he'd see Khloe again in a marriage alliance broadcast to the nation. Now, she stood in the spotlight, commanding unimaginable wealth, side-by-side with a man at the pinnacle of power—basking in the world's envy.

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school. By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official. But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him. Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you." My whole body went cold. And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter. The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed." June, four years ago. That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love. He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

I am reborn with memories of my past life. And I carry a secret with me: my fiance, Ethan Larsen, had forged our marriage certificate. The one he had actually married was Serena Gray. But I do not expose his lie. Instead, I quietly submit my application to Greenvale University and eventually become a permanent resident in Verenza. In my past life, I spent a lifetime believing in a lie. I thought I was his wife, until I learned the truth on the day he died. He married Serena out of love but kept me only due to his sense of duty. On the funeral day, Serena arrived dressed in white, holding the actual marriage certificate in her hand. She effortlessly took over all his inheritance, while I was thrown out of the house, penniless, with nothing left but a trampled heart. In this life, I will no longer beg for love nor stay put out of pity. I'll leave quietly and live freely. They can keep acting out their so-called "perfect" love story. Because now, I can see it crystal clear—some women are born to be loved, while others are reborn so they don't have to wait to be loved.

I was pregnant and due any day. Austin Revelstone, my husband, had a sugar baby named Tawny Sully. Each time they renewed their arrangement, money came into my mother’s special care account. One day, he stayed a little longer to talk to me. Because of it, he was one minute late for his date with Tawny. Tawny was upset. She threw a tantrum and threatened to terminate their agreement. She would only stay if I aborted my baby. So, Austin slid the abortion form and a check for three million dollars across the table to me. “Please, just sign it. We can always have another kid. If Tawny cries anymore, she’ll get wrinkles.” He looked calm and unbothered. It was as if he were just talking about the weather. I raised my head and looked at him in disbelief. I trembled for a long time. Then, I finally signed my name on the abortion form. I wiped my tears and gave the check back to him. I made one additional request. “Let’s make that fake divorce certificate real this time.” I no longer needed his financial support for my mother’s surgery.