Retractable Screen Door Screen Replacement

I stand before the judges at the jewelry design competition and admit to plagiarism. Then, I announce my withdrawal from the contest, along with my resignation as Design Director of Fairchild Group. My fiance, Caleb Fairchild, shoots daggers at me. "If you walk away from this competition, our engagement is off!" My father follows up by slapping me across the face. "First, you plagiarize your own sister, and now you're breaking off your engagement with the Fairchilds? Are you trying to ruin our family?" "Oh, I'm not just calling off my engagement. I'm also cutting off my ties with you," I respond apathetically. I make this decision because I have been given a second life. In my previous life, my stepsister and I competed in this contest. First place earns the title of the nation's top jewelry designer and 50 million dollars from Fairchild Group. However, round after round, her designs are exactly the same as mine, and she submits them before I do. The judging panel gives me a pass because of Caleb and lets me advance to the finals, but not without a warning to never plagiarize again. I refuse to believe it. I switch to a brand-new computer, lock myself in my room, and pour everything into a new design. Yet, when the final designs appear on the big screen, history repeats itself. In the end, my sister takes first place and walks away with everything that should have been mine. The reputation I painstakingly built is ruined, and my name is dragged through the mud online. My parents are ashamed of me. They knock me out and sell me off to the countryside to marry an old man. Ultimately, I die after endless abuse. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the semifinals. Everyone is pointing at me as they stare at the two identical designs.

“So, tell me about yourself Mr. Davenport?” she asks. I don’t look up from my computer, as I log in. “What do you want to know, Miss Harvey?” I ask her. "Are you perhaps dating anyone right now?" she asks. I look up at her surprised by her question. I shake my head. "No..." it’s true I’m not dating anyone right now. Her smile brightens. “That’s good.” She tells me. I frown, “Why would that be good exactly?” I ask, I look back at the screen and see Kendell hasn’t arrived at the sight yet, I’m about to tell her when she speaks again. “So Mr. Davenport, do you find little old me attractive?” she asks me. I look at her… “What are you getting at Miss Harvey?” I ask her. “Come humor me…” she tilts her head. I sigh. “I’d be a fool not to find you attractive, though I don’t know how that’s of any pertinence to right now." I tell her. She smiles. “So what do you say Mr. Davenport, or can I call you Blake?” I ask her. I have no idea what she’s up to. I choose to ignore her. She moves closer to me. “Come on now, don’t ignore me.” she says. I look at her, a little dress that leaves little to the imagination. She’s leaning onto the desk giving me a full view of her breasts. Is she hitting on me? She is hitting on me right? “So how sturdy is this desk exactly?” she asks. I take her in, it’s been four years since I’ve so much as touched a woman sexually. Hell I can’t even tell if she’s flirting with me.

I stood between both of them masking my son from his gorgeous daddy but my stubborn son cocked his head and gave his dad a very beautiful sunburnt smile. I couldn't help but chuckle my baby is too cute. "Mommy, is this Daddy?" Oh my God! I looked behind us at Jale who was only a few steps away from us. I bet he clearly heard what my son had just asked me. The was he was looking at me with curiousty, I knew he wanted an answer to that question too. Who am I even kidding from his viking gold hair, brown chocolate eyes, his fair skin, to proud attitude. Everything he was was the same thing my boy was. Chase was a true young version of his daddy but I would never let him know that. I crouched down in front of my angel and kissed his forehead before answering his question. My eyes shot up at Jale again who pretended like he was looking at something on his phone yet his phone's screen was blank then. After making sure he had his attention to us, I cupped my baby's cheeks and made him look into my eyes. "No honey, this man is not your daddy but uncle. He is uncle Jale." I could see Jale's face fall from the sides of my face. Suck a jerk! What did he expect that I was going to say Chase is his son. That is something I would never do in my life. I would never let Jale into my son's life. I will never let him know he is my baby's daddy because he doesn't deserve my little boy at all. He doesn't deserve us after all the horrible things he did to me five years ago.

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

I stare at the email on my screen, unable to move my fingers. Tomorrow is our company's crucial product launch, and I just learn that the patent for the algorithm I spent three years developing is now filed under Matthew Ashford's new assistant, Sophie Bennett. I storm into Matthew's office to confront him. Sophie sits on his desk with her legs crossed, looking completely innocent. She claims that she filled out the form by mistake. "It's just a clerical error. The patent still belongs to the company. What's the big deal?" Matthew stands up from his chair, positioning himself in front of Sophie. I can't believe what I am hearing. "Matthew, this is my research!" "Emma, you're thirty-five. Why are you picking a fight with a twenty-three-year-old intern?" He frowns. Then, he turns to Sophie. "Starting tomorrow, you're the new CTO. Emma needs… some time off." I'm utterly stunned. A decade of marriage and five years dedicated to building a company together have been shattered by a few casual words from him. Thirty minutes later, Sophie posts a photo on social media of herself sitting on Matthew's lap. They are both clinking champagne glasses. "So lucky to have the best boss ever. I'll make sure to be his loyal kitten." Below that, Matthew leaves a comment—three red heart emojis. I shut my laptop and pick up my phone. "Hello. Is this Mr. David Langley from Novara Group of Sundale Valley? This is Emma Whitmore. I've changed my mind. I'm ready to join you." I pause. "And by the way, about that unreleased algorithm upgrade, I have the complete technical blueprint. Make me an offer." Later, I fly to Tallisport with an eight-figure check in hand, while Matthew goes frantic trying to find me.

After giving birth to Alpha Wesley Silvermoon's pup, I fell into severe postpartum depression. Whenever the scent he left on me began to fade, I couldn't help but have the urge to hurt myself. It was Wesley who held me tight in his arms, kissing my forehead repeatedly, saying, "Don't be afraid, Maggie. The pup and I will stay with you, always." Every morning, he took me to see a therapist. In the afternoon, he handled the pack's affairs. At night, he fed Brett the pup himself. The dark circles beneath his eyes grew heavier by the day, yet he never once complained. Until one day. Brett was crying for his mother, while I hid in the bathroom, hurting myself. When Wesley saw what happened, he completely lost it. He grabbed me by the throat viciously. "If you don't want a pup, you shouldn't have had one! You gave birth to it, but you can't even take care of it! You don't deserve to be a mother!" He bellowed, "How much longer are you going to torment this family? You want to die so badly? Fine! I'll help you!" The moment he said that, he instantly came back to his senses. He broke his wrist and apologized to me. I didn't say anything, merely staring blankly at the phone that had fallen to the floor. The screen was still lit. 37 missed calls. All from the same name. Rowena Sawthorne. She was someone who had recently returned to the pack. Wesley's first love from his youth. She was healthy, beautiful, confident. She and Wesley were once the celebrity couple that everyone admired. Even Brett, whom I had nearly died giving birth to, would smile when she held him in her arms. Perhaps only she was worthy of being his mate, worthy of being Brett's mother. Maybe, this was for the best. At last, I could die without any worry.

To train myself for the role ahead, I hid the truth — that I was the only daughter of an Alpha King. In my first year at the Dark Moon Pack, I fell for Leo, the Alpha's youngest son, the moment I laid eyes on him. Three years of love. The cold, brutal man spoiled me rotten. Yet he never once agreed to a marking ceremony with me. I later found out why — his pack didn't think I was good enough. After all, the Dark Moon Pack was the most powerful in the Northern Territories, and in their eyes, I was just a nameless rogue from some lesser pack. With the whispers about the gap between our ranks growing louder, I decided to tell him the truth about my bloodline. But then Leo started disappearing. Day after day. After his ninety-ninth night away, I saw a photo on his childhood sweetheart's Ins Story — a Christmas tree decked out in sex toys. The caption read: "Leo promised me — on the night of our marking ceremony, we're going to try every single one." Before I could even process it, my phone buzzed again. A DM. From the same woman. "Do you have any idea how much Leo needs me? Every year on your birthday, every anniversary — he waits until you fall asleep, then comes to spend the night with me." "A high-born wolf like me is the only one worthy of being his mate. You're nothing but the third wheel between an Alpha and his Luna." I stared at the words on the screen, my thumb frozen in midair. Should I be furious? Should I fall apart? Nothing. I felt nothing. Just a hollow space where my heart used to be. Fine. This tainted love, this man — I was done with all of it. I closed my eyes and reached out through the mind-link to my father, the Alpha King. "Dad, I agree to come home and take the throne."

She was betrayed by her fiancé and her own younger sister, unexpectedly finds herself pregnant with triplets. A cold and domineering heir binds her and the children to him through a contractual agreement. As she unwittingly falls in love with him, she discovers to her shock that all he truly wants are the three children, and she is merely a replacement for another woman! Heartbroken, she gives birth to the triplets but then faces a life-threatening situation, narrowly escaping from a fire.

Christmas Eve was meant to be the culmination of seven years of long-distance longing—the day Lorenzo finally slid an engagement ring onto my finger. Instead, a sudden emergency surgery chained me to the operating table. The patient wasn't just suffering from a premature delivery and catastrophic hemorrhaging; she was riddled with infections, the biological fallout of a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. The girl on the table spat out orders with a venomous entitlement that made my blood run cold. "My husband is the head of the Corleone family. He’s second to none, and this entire city bows to him. If you can’t save my baby, you’re all dead." My mind went blank. There was only one head of the Corleone family: Lorenzo. "You’ve got the wrong man," I said, my voice wavering despite my frown. "The news said he’s already engaged to a woman from a rival family for a strategic alliance." The girl looked at me as if I’d just told a pathetic joke. She surveyed me with a mocking sneer. "Oh, he’s mentioned that woman. He said she’s like a cold corpse—that even touching her makes him sick to his stomach. She doesn't provide him a fraction of the pleasure I do." She smirked. "He heard something happened to the baby. He’s en route from Sicily right now with his personal detail." She flicked her phone screen open. There it was: a photo of her and Lorenzo, locked in a suffocatingly intimate embrace. I froze. A second later, a notification from Lorenzo vibrated against my palm. “Darlin’, something urgent came up tonight. I’m skipping the engagement dinner. I’ll make it up to you later.” Since they were so utterly in love, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I dialed a number that had been silent for three years—the number of the true mastermind of the underworld, Don Sebastian. "Does your proposal from three years ago still stand?"

In order to gather 500 thousand dollars for my blind girlfriend's surgical bills, I've accepted a delivery order that's meant for someone at a private racing club. The huge floor-to-ceiling monitor is currently playing the live footage of the champion who's won the racing tournament. Champagne bottles can be seen spraying everywhere as the audience cheers loudly for the victor. Soon, the champion takes off her helmet and shakes her head full of curls off her face. Strikingly beautiful features are revealed the next moment. Next to the champion stands her childhood friend, Lewis Ross. I feel my hands clenching around the plastic bag containing the food containers. The woman shown on the screen is none other than Evelyn Carter, my so-called blind girlfriend. "Why aren't you happy even though you've won the tournament, Evelyn? Are you missing that boyfriend of yours who's still working his ass off for money?" A familiar voice comes from the lounge. An amused yet malicious smirk is played on Evelyn's lips at the moment. "Why did you bring him up? Then again, it's thrilling, pretending to be blind and all. Whenever he changes his clothes at home, he does it right in front of me." Everyone around Evelyn begins roaring with cheers. "You're so lucky, Ms. Carter!" After taking a sip from her champagne glass, Evelyn responds in a flippant tone, "Lucky? He's so busy with work every day just to gather enough money for my surgical bills! That man doesn't have a single romantic cell in him—he's just as stiff as the stick up his ass!" A wave of laughter echoes from the crowd once again. Feeling as though my blood had turned to ice, I turn on my heel and begin walking out of the club. I can still hear Lewis' cheeky voice ringing out from behind me. "There are only three days left in our one-year bet, Evelyn. Don't tell me you really fell for your boyfriend!" Evelyn merely snorts in response. She drawls back, "Don't worry. I'll dump him in three days."