What I Wouldn't Give Novels & Stories

Pov Fernando. I had sent the French woman to look for the printed archives of her years of work, because I thought her audacity was very disrespectful, although I confess that I was more bothered by the fact that she doesn't know me, who doesn't know me? I mean, it's not that I'm the president of the United States, but my last name is recognized in many countries, and as the manager of the company I'm going to inherit, and as an employee of my family, she should know her bosses, right?

I am not going to you no matter what. . . . ........

Just imagine the limited edition of the book you really want is already within your reach but our boss doesn't want to give it to you. He raised his eyebrows at me."Nah, money can't buy happiness. Try hard to get this book. I gave it as a gift to you earlier but you didn't want..." "I didn't notice! I didn't know it was a limited edition! Just give the freaking book to me!" Oh my gosh! I am so mad, I really don't want someone who doesn't give me what I want! Of course. "No, Evianna. I won't." He said more and stuck out his tongue at me.

I wouldn't have it another way than this. ~~~

Sofia asked me. What would I do? I hadn’t even thought about that kind of thing before. Rubbing my chin, I pondered my answer carefully because I couldn’t really decide on the spot. "Well, honestly, I don’t know. Maybe I'd reject them?" I admitted, feeling unsure but sticking to my initial instinct. They gave me a surprised look. "Why? It’s an opportunity, you know!" I struggled to find a reason, so I tried to defend my answer. "W-well, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be invited by some teams. I don’t think I'm outstanding enough, I guess."

“I have nothing to give them.” That was the line that did it. Not because it was cruel. Because it was true enough to feel like blood. I had given Vandwood enough already. My blood. My tears. My silence. My dignity. My childhood. My mother’s sacrifices. My place in the world, twisted and cut and pared down so often I had almost learned to call the shrinking normal. I should not have to keep giving.

And I never turn down a gift. Oh, I could work with this.

Not when I was still trying to survive every day without falling apart. A part of me wondered—what would happen next? Would he try again? Was he the kind of man who would just take? It doesn’t matter how softly he talked. It doesn’t matter how sweetly he smiled. I couldn’t give something I didn’t have. And no gift in the world could change that.

And if no one else would give it to them Then I would