Winning Competition Quotes

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

On the night of our wedding, my wife, Carol Lockhart, leaves me and goes to stay at a hotel instead. It's because she's an aloof, arrogant young woman who has always been in love with my younger brother, Thomas Shaffer. Over the next ten years of our marriage, I treat her as sincerely as possible and give her my entire heart, but the only response I get in return is her mockery. "Marcus Shaffer, I would rather be a nun for the rest of my life than fall in love with you!" However, when a heavy truck comes skidding toward me, the woman who has hated me all her life suddenly throws herself at me and shoves me away, saving my life. Before passing out, I see her grabbing the doctor's hand, while blood flows from her mouth, begging, "Don't tell that idiot that I was the one who saved him… "And don't let my parents blame him for my death…" My eyes fill with tears. I finally understand now that she wasn't the only one who made the wrong decision during our wedding. After I'm reborn and given a second chance at life, I decide to join the International Peacekeeping Forces and head out into the war as a frontliner. Since I can no longer live out the rest of my life with her, I wish her a lifetime of happiness, and I hope that we will never meet again.

In everyone's eyes, my husband, Jake Payton, was the perfect man. Three years have passed since the day of our wedding, but we have yet to have a child because he wanted an 'extended honeymoon'. One day, I chanced across a message he sent to his friend. [I'm not Mindy's first, and God knows whether she's had an abortion before! The thought of having a baby with her just makes me sick!] Unable to hold back my tears, I turned around and shelved my medical report.

By the time I return home from a business trip, it is past midnight. However, my wife, Celeste Beaumont, isn't home. A man's shirt that isn't mine is lying on the couch. When I call her, she tells me that she's working late at the office. "Whose shirt is it on the couch?" I ask, cutting straight to the point. She playfully scolds, "Who else would it be? It's a gift for you, so hurry up and try it on." I skeptically put it on and immediately feel how tight and uncomfortable it is across my shoulders. "This is an L, babe. I've always worn XL." Celeste runs a clothing company. She's the one who handles all my clothes and even uses my body measurements for her menswear line. There's no way she doesn't know my size. The line goes quiet for half a second before she thoughtfully says, "It's from my new menswear collection. "I had pieces custom-made for you and Felix, so I must've grabbed the wrong piece. I'll swap it tomorrow." A beat later, her voice carries a little sob as she continues, "Babe, I've been so exhausted without you these past few days. I've missed you so much…" It's past midnight. As I listen to the undeniable weariness beneath her affectionate, playful words, my heart aches in distress. I can't help chiding myself for overthinking. However, after hanging up, realization hits me. Her brother, Felix Beaumont, and I are about the same build. He's always worn XL.

My mate, Raelor Thorne, is the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack. He once swore that in this lifetime, he would mark only me. Yet one month before our marking ceremony, he insisted that he must first mark with Seraphine Morcant, his late brother's mate. He claimed it was to comfort her and preserve his brother's bloodline. He said he would help her conceive an heir, so the line would not die. I refused. He brought it up every day after that, pressing harder each time, leaving me no room to breathe. Then, half a month before the ceremony, I received a report from the Pack Healing Sanctum. It stated clearly that Seraphine had already been marked and was nearly one month pregnant. In that moment, I finally understood. Raelor had never intended to ask for my consent. So I canceled the marking ceremony. I burned every token that tied us together. On the day we were meant to bind our lives, I left Silvermoon Territory alone. I traveled to the Obsidian Pack to further my mastery of healing arts and formally accepted the position of Chief Healer within their Order. From that day forward, there would be nothing left between Raelor and me. No bond. No mercy. No return.

I was the Luna who gave everything to her Alpha—my heart, my loyalty, my dignity. Ethan repaid me by sleeping with other she-wolves, over and over again, and every night our mate bond slowly poisoned what was left of my soul. On our third wedding anniversary, when he suggested I could "try" sleeping with someone else too, I finally broke. My childhood friend, a young Alpha, called me when he heard the news and proposed to me over the phone. His gentle voice healed every wound Ethan had carved into me, so I said yes. Now I've decided to give Ethan moonbreak herb and sever our bond forever. But Ethan never bothered to ask what I gave him to drink. He was too busy running off to his favorite she-wolf's bed. He has no idea that in thirty days, when the moon breaks, our mate bond will shatter completely, and the "chains" that bound us as fated mates will be gone. This time, I'm really leaving.

The first time my childhood friend Nathan Sinclair awakened as a werewolf, our friends called me over to help him through his heat. But Nathan shook his head. "I really don't want her to get this so easily. Werewolf love is loyal above all, and the first person I mark becomes my only mate for life. When Bella shows up, I won't give in even if she begs to help me." He waited and waited, but I never came. Nathan didn't know that his brother's bodyguard, Liam Smith, had already flooded my phone with messages. "Ms. York, Mr. Theodore has already claimed you as his mate. Please, can you come and give him a kiss?" It turned out that I had fallen while skiing and died five years ago. His brother, Theodore Sinclair, marked me and gave me half of his lifespan, pulling me back from the jaws of death. That night, I wrapped my arms around Theodore's neck and teased him, "Theo, stop holding back. Tell me, how many years have you secretly been in love with me?"

I had been trying to get pregnant for six months. Ernest Marino, the Don of the Marinos, would personally make me a herbal brew every day to ensure that my body was properly nurtured. He watched me tenderly as I drank the brew and whispered into my ear, "You're a good girl, Mia. You need to drink this, no matter how bad it tastes, for the sake of our baby." When my full black hair started to fall, and my gums began to bleed for no good reason, I found out that it was not medicine I was drinking. It was an immunosuppressant. Ernest had spent six months showering me with adoration, turning me into the perfect organ donor. The herbal brew I had been consuming would make it so that the recipient, his precious stepsister with uremia, would not experience rejection symptoms. He thought that I was a woman who could be treated anyway he wanted. However, he had no idea that I was a Corleone. I was from Severia's oldest, most ruthless mafia family, the Corleones.

I had loved my Mafia Boss Alexander in silence for ten years. I was the only woman he fucked. Almost every night he would pin me down and pound me until I was screaming his name, filling me with his seed. He never touched anyone else. I thought I was special to him. I was wrong. To appease his fiancée Sophia’s family, Alexander dangled my mute little sister from a helicopter. I begged. I knelt. I offered my life for hers. "Enough, Ivy. The show is over," he scoffed, wiping the blood from my lip with his thumb. "It was just a silicone doll. Did you really think I would kill your sister over this? I just wanted to show you what happens when you defy me." But he didn't know that it really was Lily. I risked my life to take revenge on Sophia, only to be shot into the Mediterranean by Alexander's bullet. But why did the high and mighty Don go completely mad, searching the world for my body?

My health was not good, but I had always wanted a child. My husband, citing concern for my health, avoided intimacy with me for a year. Then I stumbled across his private messages with another woman. [You'll spend Valentine's Day with me, right? You're not going to touch her tonight, are you?] [You know I don't like doing it just to make babies. Got you some lingerie. Wear it for me tomorrow.] That ill-fitting lace lingerie he was talking about was on my body. I'd slipped it on while he was in the shower, thinking it was a Valentine's Day surprise from him. Turned out, he hadn't bought the wrong size. He had just sent it to the wrong address. I clicked on the woman's profile. Her latest video showed her at the beach, hand in hand with the person filming. I recognized her hand instantly. It belonged to my best friend.