Quotes On Emotional Scars Novels & Stories

My dad worked as a dishwasher in a restaurant, earning a measly $400 a month. My mom had bad legs, so she could only scrape by collecting trash. When my academically-gifted younger brother was in middle school, they pulled him out of school and made him work to earn extra money so that they could afford to send me to the best school in the state. I didn't let them down and aced my high school, becoming the top student in my state. The day I got my SAT scores was also my birthday. Dad, all hunched over, came to my school with a pink cake, followed by Mom in her tattered clothes and my brother with his face covered in grime. But instead of being grateful, I grabbed a sharp compass and threw it at Dad, drawing blood. "You think you can buy me off with a cake? Get lost! Don't let me see you again!" The principal stared in disbelief. "Yvonne, what are you doing? If it weren't for your family working hard to support you, you wouldn't be this successful!" I held my head high, unperturbed. "So what if I'm the top student in the state? It's no big deal! If they really loved me, they would give me a million dollars so I could live a life of luxury!" Dad's tears hit the ground as he called me an ungrateful brat. Mom wanted to slap me but was held back. Meanwhile, I silently opened the cake box and cut the cake. The next second, everyone was shocked.

Ethan hid his powerful family background to support his wife Victoria, only to watch success turn her cruel and arrogant. On her IPO day, her favorite company influencer beats a poor-looking old man nearly to death, believing he is Ethan's father. But the victim is actually Victoria's own father, and every insult, cover-up, and betrayal pushes Ethan to expose the truth and destroy the life she built on his love.

All it took was a single exchange between my sister and Giselle’s lover, and my daughter accused her of stealing a gold bracelet. As a result, my sister was left to die in a warehouse for three whole days. With my sister’s life hanging by a thread, I got on my knees and pleaded before my wife and daughter. “Please, let Lucy go. She won’t speak to Theo again.” Faced with my pleas, my daughter simply let out a cruel smile. “I can release her, but only if she returns the bracelet.” Lucy never took the bracelet in the first place. There was no way she could return something that was never in her possession. Agony ripped through me as I crawled toward Giselle. “Please, Giselle. I’m begging you. Please let her go. She’s going to die at this rate!” Giselle took one cold, hard look at me before uttering, “So she’s been hung to dry for three days. She won’t die. If you really want her release, you should hand over your mother’s keepsake to Theo.”

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

When my husband, Lucius Croft, and I were on a flight that was heading toward our honeymoon destination, his childhood friend, Belinda Todd, suddenly appeared before us while pregnant. She claimed that she had bought an economy-class ticket and that she wanted to go on a vacation with us. Not only did Lucius not reject Belinda, but he also wanted me to give my first-class ticket away to her. I turned his suggestion down. So, he helped Belinda occupy the first-class seat next to us. When I realized that an old lady was the owner of that particular seat, I did everything I could to convince Lucius to return the seat to her. Unexpectedly, Belinda was so mad that she got off the plane right away. On her way home, she got into an accident, which killed her and her unborn baby. Lucius attended her funeral calmly. But on the day I was supposed to go into labor, he tied me up in the car and staged a car accident on purpose. "This is all your fault! If it wasn't for you, Belinda never would've died! You deserve to make it up to her with your life!" I could only watch the car drive into the tree in total despair. All I saw was a huge explosion and tongues of flame around me before I completely lost consciousness. When I open my eyes again, I see Belinda standing before me with her belly jutting out. This time, I no longer stop them. What they don't know is that the inconspicuous-looking old lady is actually a member of the esteemed Howard family, also known as the global business powerhouse. She's also the grandmother of the richest man in the world, Ethan Howard.

My name is Adrian Hart. The day my sister Serena found me and brought me home, I thought I finally had a family again. I was wrong. In Serena's eyes, her adopted brother Evan mattered more than I ever would. When he was too scared to marry into a powerful family, I walked down the aisle for him. When he wanted out, I swallowed a fake-death pill and disappeared. Every time, Serena swore it was the last. The seventh time, she poured the pill down my throat herself. And that was the time I actually died. My soul stayed behind. I watched Serena stand over my body in the morgue and fail to recognize me until it was too late. And the cruelest part wasn't dying. It was knowing that, until my very last breath, my sister still wasn't on my side.

Outside the ER, a woman clad in luxury brands is in the middle of lashing out hysterically at a camera. "That stupid deliveryman is the one responsible for crashing my two-million-dollar Porsche! He even tried to steal my Hermès bag that was inside in the car! When I caught him red-handed, he tried to assault me, too! "If he doesn't pay me 500 thousand dollars today, I'll make sure that he spends the rest of his life in jail!" As soon as the woman is done, she collapses to the floor while clutching her chest. Obviously, she's faking her collapse. How can a mother this vile possibly exist in this world? Half an hour ago, that woman has locked her three-year-old son up in her car—that's exposed under the bright sun—just so she can go to a beauty spa for cosmetic procedures. In order to save the dying child, I have no choice but to smash the window. But that woman now paints me as the bad guy in this situation and insists on ruining my life. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't notice the action camera on my helmet.

The weather is -4 degrees Fahrenheit in Snow Park. The menstrual cramps are too much for me to handle, so I can only crouch beside the snow paths in order to rest. The new beautiful ski instructor, Sandy Hatfield, who Owen Schultz has hired, skid to a stop all of a sudden. The flurry of ice and snow gets splashed onto my face as a result. "Oh my, the snow quality here really is amazing! Unlike a certain someone, whose health is weaker than that of an average child…" Sandy takes off her snow goggles before flipping the bird at me tauntingly. "A dainty maiden like you should just go home and enjoy the heater. Don't take up precious space on the snow paths!" Unable to take it anymore, I grab my ski pole and try to strike Sandy with it. The next thing I know, Owen comes skidding in my direction on his snowboard and quickly shields Sandy from me. In doing so, he knocks me to the icy ground. He frowns at me, his voice colder than the icy winds. "Sandy is a professional athlete. What she did is a professional ski move. Can you stop being unreasonable?" As I slump on the ground, I find myself staring at a pink turtle cushion hanging from Sandy's hip. That was a cushion I’d sewn for Owen over three sleepless nights before this trip, with a safety charm hidden inside.. Back then, Owen thinks this charm is childish-looking and embarrassing, so he has tossed it into the boot without looking at it. Sandy follows my line of sight and feels the turtle cushion near her hip. Then, she brushes the snow off the charm with a scowl on her face. "Owen told me that this is a piece of garbage that's taking up space at home. So, it serves as my cushion now. I don't think even old ladies are prone to making such lame crafts nowadays, right Brooke?"

We agreed we were going to spend Christmas together as a family of three. I briefly stepped out to grab my daughter’s Christmas gift, but quickly realized that I had forgotten my keys. However, when I came back, I was locked outside the villa. I rang the doorbell countless times, but no one came to let me in. Through the glass window, I saw my daughter happily smiling in the arms of my wife’s childhood friend who had returned from overseas. “Uncle Jones, you smell so nice. Not like my dad. He’s always sweaty and smells so gross. I don’t even want to spend Christmas with him!” My wife, Lily Quinn, looked at them indulgently and agreed. “Your dad hasn’t seen much of the world. He really doesn’t know how to celebrate holidays properly.” I froze in place as my fingers turned cold. Yara turned and saw me outside the window. Her face was filled with disgust. “What are you staring at? Why are you standing outside like some monster? You almost scared me to death! You’re not like Uncle Jones at all. He’s so elegant and well-mannered!” However, ten years ago, I was a top sales director at a well-known multinational company. Back then, I had the chance to be transferred to New York. Yet Lily unexpectedly got pregnant and suffered severe reactions. She was at constant risk of miscarriage. I voluntarily gave up that opportunity to take care of her and our daughter. Now, that sacrifice had somehow become undeniable proof of my uselessness. I took a deep breath and threw the Christmas gift I had bought for my daughter into the trash. Then I messaged someone saved in my contacts as “Apprentice”: [Is that overseas position you mentioned a few days ago still available?] The reply came almost instantly: [Of course! Mr. Lane, as long as you’re willing to come back, you’ll always have a place waiting for you!]

My grandfather, the company’s chairman, had an unmistakable obsession with pink. Not only had he decorated his entire house in soft rosy hues, but he even had his newly purchased Rimac Nevera repainted in blush pink. I was home for the summer. On the day he got his new car, he excitedly asked me to drive him to work. We had just entered the underground parking garage when a black Rolls-Royce suddenly blared its horn and sped up to cut in front of me. It then slammed on the brakes without warning. Unable to react in time, I crashed straight into it. The driver lowered his window and cursed at me. His face was twisted with arrogance. “Are you blind? Vixen, can’t you drive?” Swallowing my anger, I retorted, “You were the one who deliberately cut me off. How can you twist this around and blame me?” He let out a mocking snort. “You women in pink cars are hopeless drivers, yet you still blame others? You had it coming. You must be a new intern. Let me tell you something. You’ve just hit the chairman’s car. Get ready to go bankrupt!” My grandfather and I exchanged a baffled look. If that was the chairman’s car, what were we in?