Research Defended Caption

“I am sorry, Mr. Thomas, but I am married—" "To an asshole," Thomas interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. My eyes flashed with anger. "To my husband," I corrected. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Your husband doesn't know or care that you're crying because he's in there flirting with another woman." My face burned with shame. "He's just socializing," I defended, frustration betraying my words Thomas snorted. "By trying to get into her pants." He smirked, moving closer while I retreated, the space between us shrinking with every step. "I am sorry, Mr. Thomas, but my marital life is none of your business." "Only I can decide that." He said, his smirk twisting into a snarl I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Say one more word and I'll have you right here and now" he said, his voice a low, husky growl. His finger traced the curve of my face, my heart racing and I felt my defenses crumbling. In a lightning-fast move, his lips slammed into mine, crushing me with a kiss that was both savage and intoxicating. ****** Two people, different worlds, with just one thing in common - Secrets. What happens when formidable sparks begin to brew and secrets threatens to unravel?

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

On the day of my 30th birthday, my CEO wife, Sabrina Langford, leaves hurriedly at 3:00 am. She claims that there's something urgent going on at the company and that she won't be home the whole day. Later on, Timothy Cross, the low-income university student that Sabrina has been sponsoring, updates his social media feed. In the photo, I see Sabrina standing at the side of the road in a bikini. Two big apples are balanced on her 36D bust. The caption of the photo is, "The beautiful and hot CEO has personally come over to my house to help me sell the homegrown apples. You'll regret it if you don't buy these apples from me!" My brows are drawn into a frown immediately. When I call Sabrina, the call goes through rather quickly. "I told you I'm very busy at the company right now. If you disturb me again, I'm not going to forgive you this easily!" After that, Sabrina ends the call. But right before the call gets cut off, I can hear a car honking in her background. I'm not mad at her at all. She likes helping others to sell fruits, right? I might as well lend her a helping hand. So, I share the social media post to the company's group chat. The message I've drafted is, "Does anyone here want a batch of rotten apples? I'll even throw in a second-hand wife for free."

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.

After I was reborn, when Blake's childhood sweetheart Catherine cut a lock of my hair during a party dare — again — I didn't do what I did in my past life. I didn't shear off all her hair in front of everyone and turn her into a bald wolf. I didn't lose control and storm into the Council of Elders when Blake defended her, threatening to sever our mate bond. Instead, I calmly removed the Luna's crown from my head and placed it on Catherine's. "The crown's hers now. Have fun with her." I put on my coat and walked out of the estate without looking back. It wasn't that I wanted to bow to Catherine. But in my past life, after I severed the bond with Blake, things went horribly wrong. He threw me into a cell made of pure silver, like I was some irredeemable criminal, and left me there while the metal scorched my skin day and night. When I finally escaped, I was poisoned by a witch from a rival pack. Dying from the pain, I abandoned every shred of my dignity and crawled to the doors of the Temple of the Moon Goddess, begging him to let the witch give me the antidote. He was kissing Catherine. He didn't even tell his guards to let me in. I died from the poison — one day before my father, the Alpha King, came to find me. I refused to meet that fate again. So I was done with Blake.

Elara Vale grew up in wealth but never knew peace. Her father remarried Ariana after her mother passed away, and she was a cruel woman who made Elara's life miserable. Her stepsiblings, Jackson and Felicia, joined in the abuse. Robin, blinded by love for Ariana, cast Elara out after she finally fought back. She was sent to Roverthhood Academy, where she faced more cruelty from students led by Alice and her clique. She met Robert, who defended her, and Derek, whose obsession twisted into danger. A trap forced Elara into the forest, where she discovered an ancient temple. The goddess within awakened power in her, filling her with fire. With her strength revealed, Elara rose above her tormentors, gaining fear and respect. Derek grew more obsessed, while Robert stayed loyal. Then came the news—her father was dead. The truth was darker: Ariana had killed him to secure power for Jackson. Ariana bribed and schemed, but Elara fought back. She endured assassins, betrayal, and plots, using her goddess fire to survive. At last, she uncovered Ariana’s secret: Jackson was not Robin’s son. Ariana’s empire collapsed. Elara claimed her father’s legacy. She rose from victim to leader, from exile to a minister. With Robert at her side, she married not as a broken girl, but as a woman who carried a goddess’s fire.

Because her precious Jeremy needed a lab rat, Harper shipped me off to Bendora Mental Health Institute after my surgery. I got electroshocked until I was drooling and twitching, and she? She just slapped her hand over Jeremy's eyes like, "Ew, babe, don't look." Jeremy scored a Research Award nomination off that mess. Harper celebrated with fireworks so loud they could've woken the dead. Meanwhile, I was lying there in the dark, staring up at the sky while they took my leg. To keep it quiet, Jeremy slapped on a prosthetic and threatened me if I ever opened my mouth. He told Harper I just got "a little banged up" in the trial. Numb, I boxed up my leg in a freezer box. Seven days later, at Jeremy's big gala night, guess who would unwrap it like a party favor? Yeah. Harper.

Five years ago, I gave up my research achievements for love. Then, out of the blue, Marcus Parker's childhood friend made her return to the country. Using the excuse of playing truth or dare, they did everything that couples did together. I reminded Marcus not to go too far, but he just gave me a helpless look. "Claire, if I really had something going on with Hannah, I wouldn't have married you." I watched as he chose to abandon saving my mother for Hannah Carter's sake. He even hung up on me when I got into a car accident. When I woke up again, I learned that my unborn child, who was not three months old, had died in my womb. I finally gave up all hope and handed him the divorce papers. "Marcus, let's get divorced." A month later, I boarded a plane bound for Andoria.

On my 18th birthday, my triplet brothers adopted a fifteen-year-old orphan girl. To make their newly adopted sister happy, Matthew gave her my coming-of-age gift, Daniel sent away the dog that had grown up with me because she was allergic, and William coldly told me to get out of the house and stop making their little sister upset. I didn't say another word. I just packed my bags and left. They all thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would be back in a few days. My three brothers canceled their busy work schedules to take the orphan girl abroad to relax her nerves. They went to see the Northern Lights in Alaska – the place I had always dreamed of visiting. Many days later, when they returned from their vacation, they suddenly learned that I had volunteered for a twenty-year medical research mission in a remote frontier. I would never be coming home again. That night, they fell apart.