Romans Independence Ks

My fiancé is the heir to a mafia empire. For seven years, I believed our love was the one true thing in a world built on lies. Then, on the night of our engagement party, I found him holding another woman — my own half-sister, the daughter of our family’s oldest enemy — whispering words that shattered everything: "I regret everything. Come back to me, and I’ll call off the wedding." I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I made a phone call instead. Three weeks later, on what should have been our wedding day, I erased my identity and vanished from his world. But not before making sure our wedding would be one he — and every family in the underworld — would never forget.

Just as Justin proposed to me, a phone call interrupted him. Standing close by, I clearly heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Justin, I’m hurt. My leg hurts so much!” Justin snapped the ring box shut and looked at me. “Alice is injured. I’ll have to do this another time.” With those words, he sprinted away, leaving everyone around us staring in astonishment. I had never met Alice, but her presence lingered in every corner of our lives.  At meals, Justin would mention her fondness for sweet desserts.  When I dressed, I came to know her love for soft lavender hues. I argued, I wept, I lashed out, but Justin always countered with the same line. “You’re so jealous. Everyone has their first love. She’s my past, but you’re my future.” So, I turned to a man who had once called me his first love—Quentin—and made a bold proposition. “Let’s get married.”

"Your application for the exchange program has been approved, Isla. You're the only person who got through, so congratulations!" Isla Stokerton feels at peace when she hears the good news from her professor, Richard Langham. "Thanks, Mr. Langham. I'll make sure to achieve great things and not disappoint you."

After two years abroad in seclusion as I recovered, I received a selfie from my daughter, Lila Ashford. She was sitting on a bike, dressed in a work uniform. "Mom, you’ll be home soon, right? I miss you so much." My heart softened as I thought about how my girl had grown up. She understood that she needed to start from the bottom and work her way up. I was about to praise her when I noticed her skin seemed tanner, and her fitted shirt was the same one I’d bought her three years ago. It was frayed and worn thin, yet she still hadn’t thrown it away. As a child of the wealthiest family, Lila shouldn’t have to live like this, not even for "life experience". I zoomed in on the picture again. Her shoes were falling apart, the front gaping wide open. The more I looked, the more uneasy I became. The next second, I stumbled across Serena Ashford, my adopted daughter’s posts on social media. She was showing off male models, luxury cars, and on her wrist, the global limited-edition diamond bracelet I had given Lila. What shocked me most was the car that appeared in nearly every photo, the very one I had gifted Lila for her college graduation. How the hell had it ended up with her instead?!

As soon as Danielle Bradford has recovered from her postpartum period, she brings her baby to the county clerk's office to register for the baby's birth certificate. "My baby's full name is Taylor Gardner. Her father is Matthew Gardner." The employee types on the keyboard, but his brows draw tighter afterward. "The system has flagged another child with the same name under the same father." His words leave Danielle momentarily stunned. Thinking that her ears have deceived her, she blurts out, "That's impossible! Our baby has just turned one month old!" But Danielle feels her phone buzzing in her pocket before she can finish speaking. She taps on the screen, only to see a photo sent by Matthew's assistant, Meghan Landry. In the photo, Matthew has his left arm wrapped around Meghan's waist while carrying a five-year-old boy with his right arm. The three of them stand in front of a kindergarten's entrance with smiles so bright that they practically sting Danielle's eyes. On the boy's chest is a nametag that clearly says "Taylor Gardner".

I was sitting at the police station. My landlord scolded me harshly and pointed at my nose. Out of nowhere, my mother called and berated me mercilessly. “Chloe went to your place and disappeared! Did you lose her?!” “I know you’ve had grudges against me and your brother all these years, but how could you take it out on your niece?” In my previous cycle, when my mother told me Chloe was missing, I panicked and searched for her everywhere. Instead of helping, my mom and brother’s entire family dragged me to court without hesitation. I could not understand it. Chloe disappeared on her way to my place. How was that my fault? I begged the police to clear my name and review all the surveillance footage in the city. But the footage showed Chloe arriving at my door that day, and I opened the door for her. After that, she was gone, as if she had vanished into thin air. I stared blankly at the footage of her hopping cheerfully into my apartment. I had no way to explain myself. My sister-in-law lost it. She was convinced I had killed Chloe and threw boiling oil at my face in a fit of rage. I ended up in the hospital. I was disfigured and completely crushed, both physically and emotionally. No matter how hard I tried, I could not recall ever opening the door for Chloe. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Chloe disappeared.

I've returned to the Ashcroft family for three years. All three homecoming parties have ended in failure. At the first party, I was accused of stealing a watch in front of the guests. Because of that, I became the entire elite society's laughingstock. In the second party, I was pushed into a swimming pool. As such, I suffered from a high fever and was comatose for three days. It almost killed me. In the third party, a forged paternity test was hurled in my face. My own mother announced that she had cut all ties with me on the spot. Every party ended with the fake heir, Everest Ashcroft, bursting into tears and admitting his mistakes. But the entire family kept telling me, "Everest is deathly afraid of you obtaining our love meant for him. That's why he threw a small tantrum. "You're already acknowledged as a son of the Ashcrofts. Why must you keep latching onto this matter so pettily?" In the fourth party held on the fourth year, Everest threatens to off himself. In order to save him, I fall from the rooftop, causing my right leg to suffer from a comminuted fracture. My entire family huddles around Everest, who's obviously shaken, and keeps showering him with love and care. The butler is ordered to pass on their message to me. "Know your place. Do not disturb Everest when he's in bedrest." As I caress my broken leg, I keep laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. It's not that Everest doesn't want the Ashcrofts to give away their love to me. It's just that the Ashcrofts don't want to acknowledge me as a part of them at all. In that case, I might as well leave this family permanently.

I marry the comatose heir of Jebony's most affluent family for the ten million dollars in wedding gifts. In the year after the wedding, I undergo 12 rounds of IVF and finally give birth to the Larkin family's successor. When our son turns five, Jacob Larkin miraculously wakes up. The media goes wild, calling me the Larkin family's lucky star. They say I'll live a life of endless privilege. I merely smile—the first look Jacob gives me after waking up is one full of disdain. He even warns me icily, "You're nothing more than a woman my father paid to bear me an heir. Don't kid yourself that I'll ever fall for you! "I grew up with Angela. If not for that accident, you would never have become my wife." I hand him the divorce papers and say calmly, "I'll step aside, then. I'll give you and Ms. Lloyd what you want."

After returning from studying abroad, I prepared to honor my childhood betrothal. But on the very day I went to pick up my wedding gown, I saw my million-dollar couture dress worn by a poverty-stricken girl whom my fiancé had been secretly supporting. When I demanded the gown back, I was scolded as a homewrecker and mocked as a loveless hag. My fiancé excused her, saying the girl had never seen the world, and I should be more accommodating. Well, I've always loved charity. If giving away a million-dollar dress counts as charity, then fine—I'll even let go of the engagement, too. But let it be known: not just anyone can be engaged to the Vance heiress.

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”