Put Respect On My Name Novels & Stories

I followed her inside, my nerves prickling with anticipation. "Is there any particular reason you want to be addressed by that name?" she asked, settling herself into her chair and gesturing for me to sit across from her. I took a deep breath and tried to put my thoughts into words. "I think it would make me feel more comfortable," I said, hoping I didn't sound too silly. "I just want to be treated like any other student, not to have people looking at me differently because of my name." I smiled, feeling a bit relieved that I'd said what I wanted to say.

“Grief does not excuse ownership.” She flinched. “I know.” I leaned back. “This is not a reunion. This is a correction.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Then let me help you correct it.” I slid the documents back. “I want my name restored. I want it public. I want it registered across every channel.” The lawyer nodded. “That can be arranged within days.” Selene whispered, “You deserve the truth. And more.” I stood. “We will talk about more another time. Right now, I want my identity back.”

"Is there any specific reason?" Taking a deep breath, I meet George's gaze with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability. With a steady voice, I begin to share the deeper meaning behind the name and its connection to my personal journey. "The name 'My First Heart' holds a special significance for me," I say, my words carrying a sense of sincerity and conviction. "It represents a pivotal moment of letting go and embracing the beauty of love." I continue, delving into the explanation, allowing the vulnerability of my experiences to shine through.

So yes, I did lick his abs while I was writing my name. “Put property of Ada Rossi there.” He pointed to just above his left peck where there was surprisingly an empty spot. I deadpanned at him with a raised eyebrow. “My name isn’t Ada Rossi.” “It will be shortly,” he said so casually. So casually... fine. I can be casual and not freak out. “Really? What about if I don’t want to change my name?” Wait... Why am I encouraging him? We have had enough giant leaps for the next two years. No more!

I nodded. “Good, good,” said Lukas. Then he reached out to the pocket of his apron and pulled out a name tag. “Here. Wear this. I’ve put your name there but if you want to change it to something else, just let me know.” “Why would I want to change it?” I asked curiously. Lukas shrugged. “People have their own reasons. I got an employee who likes to be called by their middle name, and some who prefer the name that they chose for themselves. Whatever it is, it’s fine by me. Though I can’t change the name written on your paycheck.”

"It is the whole distinction. It is the difference between a person and an asset. I have been called the wrong thing my entire life. I will not accept it from you." "I understand," he said. "I know you do," I said. "That is why I am still on the phone." A silence. "I will call you before any document that uses your name or your standing is filed," he said. "Not inform you after; call you before." "Yes," I said. "That is what I am asking." "I understand what you are asking," he said. "And I understand why." I looked at the document again. My name is in the fourth paragraph, doing exactly what Ronan had said it would do—making the argument with presence rather than words. It was effective. Kae

“So boss,” He looks up, “Remember I said we should set some rules.” I repeat. He turns his attention back to his keyboard. “So?” “The first rule,” I say, pointing at him with my coffee cup, “no public pet names unless absolutely necessary. If we’re in private, call me by my name. Thea. Carlisle. Not babe, not sweetheart, not honey, and definitely not sugarplum.” His eyes finally lift to mine. “Sugarplum?” “I’ve been traumatized. Don’t ask.”

Trust me; this will be his reaction once he receives it. Be sure to enclose a note, your name, and a lovely picture of yourself; make sure to include your name, "Dynasty Dubois," directly on your photo. Most businesses receive letters and invitations from other companies and even women, but this will differ. Include with the invitation a personal note embossed in gold penmanship. The note inside should read:

Maybe that was my sign—things would go horribly wrong if I blurted out the truth. “Boss?” Posh called, snapping me out of my reverie. I straightened my face, setting the dish I had been holding onto the table. “She doesn’t have to know anything.” “Uhh… that’s risky,” he said. “I’m willing to take risks for her. I might as well adopt the name Nick fully. As long as she’s happy and safe from the truth, then so am I,” I replied with a smug expression. “Okay, boss, I’ll support you either way,” he said with a broad grin. I nodded, acknowledging his unwavering presence.

Hope summarised what she understood in what I just read to her. “Exactly my point” I said. “Was the name of the company written in the mail that was sent? Hope asked hoping to get a positive reply. “No it wasn’t written” I replied. “Writing the company’s name in the mail will be so unprofessional,” Hope said. “I should have offered a more mouth watering offer than I did” I thought to myself regretting.