Our Love Runs Deep Like A Chevy

The hotel called, politely reminding me that the condoms used last night were unpaid and had been charged to my membership card. I was stunned. I'd been working late until midnight and hadn't set foot in any hotel. I confronted my husband, the only person who knew my card code. Nathan Phelps looked at me, bewildered. "Honey, that hotel costs over $10,000 a night. I'd never go there. It's probably a system error. Someone must have mistyped the card number. I'll file a complaint tomorrow." Unconvinced, I called my best friend, who managed the hotel. "Tracy, check who Nathan was with at the hotel last night. I'm catching him red-handed."

In a cycle of broken plans, Elena asks Marcus, "Why another delay for her?" He insists, "Sophia's just a friend in trouble—you're my priority." Whispers of the past test their bond, while a quiet ally says, "I've cared for you longer than you know." As accusations fly—"You're imagining things!"—Elena questions her path. A final decision sparks chaos, rewriting fates.

All I've done is say something to my first love, whom I haven't met for many years. Since then, my wife, Linda Weber, demands that I report my whereabouts to her constantly. Otherwise, she won't hesitate to stop paying for our daughter, Lily Colt's medical bills. The first time happened when I was buying groceries. Linda told me to record a video of myself and tell the camera that I was her simp. The second time happened when I was accompanying Lily when she was undergoing a dialysis procedure. Linda demanded that I strip myself naked just so she could check if I was fooling around with other women in the same room. The third time happened when Lily finally got a kidney match. Linda demanded that I travel to the other end of the city just to buy the roasted sweet potatoes she had eaten on our first date together. By the time I have the roasted potatoes delivered to her with sweat drenching my form, I witness Linda giving the kidney source to her first love's mother just because I'm one minute later than the designated time. Only then do I realize that Linda has done all those things to me just so she can please James Harmon by pulling pranks on me purposefully.

On the Goldman heir's wedding day, I take a small bite out of a piece of cake because I am hungry from waiting too long at the ceremony. But my fiancee, Sheryl Wilson, slaps me in the face immediately. "You really are shameless! How could you eat in an occasion like this?" Dazed from the slap, I look at the other guests, who are staring at us at the moment. Having tasted copper in my mouth, I turn on my heel and approach the heir with a plate in my hands. "The cake's pretty delicious. Do you want a slice?" Sheryl started to panic. She's about to drag me away when the groom of the wedding takes a small bite out of the same slice. He remarks coolly, "It really is tasty. I'll have my men prepare 100 slices of cake for the woman who slapped you just now."

I was forced into an arranged marriage with Brandon Fuller, and he escaped 99 times. The first time, I was left alone at the beach as I waited for the whole night. The second time, he switched places with a homeless man and left me alone on the stage in humiliation. Brandon finally gave in on the 99th time. However, when I went to him with my wedding dress in my arms, I overheard his conversation with his friends. “Brandon, are you really going to marry your true love seven days later? What about your arranged marriage, are you going to escape that?” Brandon snorted. “I must marry Poppy! As for arranged marriage, I’ll just simply host a fake wedding for her! “She’s the one who caused my older sister’s death! Even though I was in love with her for seven years, she deserves to be stood up!” I froze. It turned out his promise was fake. I turned around without any hesitation. Then, I called home. “Mom, I’m still having that wedding, but please find a new husband for me.”

When I'm cleaning my home, I sweep out an extremely thin condom that has already been used from under the bed. The sight of it makes my heart sink to the pits of my stomach. I'm severely allergic to latex, so there's no way I would ever use such things. Just as I'm contemplating whether I should ask my fiancee, Shelly Hartman, about the condom, she sends me a voice message on WhatsApp at that moment. "Babe, I have a company dinner to attend tonight, so I won't be going home for dinner. I might be home later than usual. You can just go to bed early. There's no need to wait up for me. Love you so much!"

They say when life throws you a lemon, you should turn it to a lemonade, even though some things weren't just intentional. “For the next three years, you will work under my son, Anthony. You will obey him unconditionally and assist him in developing the first humanoid robots. It’s all stated in the contract.” Melissa, a brilliant first-class robotics engineer, signs a binding contract to save her only sister who urgently needs surgery. Not only must she work for Anthony—the arrogant CEO of the Morgan Group—but she must also marry him. Throughout the contract, Anthony treats her like a lowlife, belittling her at every opportunity and even stealing credit for her achievements, convinced she would never dare to leave. But as the three years draw to a close, her supposed knight in shining armor, Josh, shows up as he promised. Will Melissa walk away from Anthony, reclaim her freedom, and rekindle the spark with Josh? Or will Anthony realize too late just how much he stands to lose when the countdown to their divorce begins? And what if there was more to the accident that left Melissa’s sister in need of surgery—and forced Melissa into this contract? If you want to feel first hand what it means for a lady to possess her possession, then get over here!

She was betrayed, almost raped, imprisoned, and killed. Everyone thought she was dead, but someone helped her escape. Five years later, bumalik siya kasama ang babaeng anak niya. Ngunit hindi niya inaasahan na kambal pala nito ang anak ng CEO. Sumilay ang nakakabighani na ngiti sa labi ng CEO habang nakatitig sa mga labi niya. "Looks like your daughter resembled my son. It means they are twins. Why don't you marry me and add them three?"

The day my husband, Lucas Maxwell, helps his childhood sweetheart—Cecilia Brown, who has cancer—lose her virginity, I leave behind a divorce agreement and walk away. Before I leave, I drop a comment beneath a photo of them on his social media. Their fingers are tightly interlocked in the photo. "Let's get divorced. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." A minute later, he calls me. "How did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you, Fiona Sinclair? Do you really have the heart to let her die without leaving anything behind?" I sneer, "You're no longer my husband. How is that my problem?" That's when he panics.

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.