1945 Pulitzer Winning

At our seventh wedding anniversary party, Caleb Thorne shares a drink with his childhood sweetheart. My face darkens, and he publicly snaps at me in front of everyone. "It's just playful fun between friends—why are you so uptight? If I really had something going on with Emma, do you think you'd ever have become my wife?" He storms off in anger. That same night, his childhood sweetheart updates her social media banner to a photo of her holding hands with Caleb. In the past, I would've rushed to her house without a second thought, dragged Caleb out, and demanded to know if he ever truly loved me. But this time, I don't care anymore.

"Ms. Rowe, are you certain you want to delete all identity records? Once they're erased, you'll be completely removed from the system. No one will be able to find you again." Eva Rowe pauses for a moment before nodding with quiet resolve. "Yes. I want to disappear from this world. I want to make sure no one can ever find me." Two seconds of silence follow on the other end, as if they're giving her one last chance to reconsider. "Understood, Ms. Rowe. The wipeout protocol will be completed within 14 days. By then, you'll be officially 'dead' in all databases. Please make the necessary arrangements." With that, the call ends. Eva books a one-way ticket to Felnor, scheduled for 14 days later. Then, she turns off her phone, watching as the screen goes dark. She stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the endless city lights, and lets out a soft, cold laugh. She is no longer anyone's Eva.

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

A few weeks before our wedding, Rodney Luther's stepmother, Jessica Flaine, posts a photo on her social media. In the photo, she's wearing the wedding dress I picked out, holding a bouquet of red roses, and shyly leaning toward Rodney, asking for a kiss. The caption reads—"Dreams fulfilled." I don't call Rodney in tears or throw a fit like I used to. I simply like the post and leave a comment. "Screenshot sent to Rodney's father." Not long after, Jessica deletes the post, and Rodney's phone call follows immediately. "Ivana, you're being so petty! The rest of my days belong to you. It's only today that I'm fulfilling a small dream of Jessica's. Hurry up and explain things to my dad! "Come on, be good. I've got a gift for you." A scoff escapes me. "Rodney, do you hear me clearly? Go explain it to your father yourself!"

I was married to Gideon Strathmore for eight years, but he was unfaithful, bringing home different women. The 100th, Vesper Quinn, smirked at me and turned to him, saying, "This is your useless wife, huh?" Gideon leaned back in his chair and lazily nodded. Emboldened by his attitude, she strutted over and patted my cheek. "Listen closely to what a real woman sounds like." That night, moans filled the living room. I couldn't escape them. The next morning, Gideon ordered me to breakfast as usual. I refused, unwilling to be his puppet any longer. He forgot our marriage was based on a contract, and it was due in three days.

I died beneath the Ferris wheel where Henry Cadden and Sophie Lloyd had their secret affair. Two lives were lost that day, mine and my unborn child's, but they all said it was my fate, and I deserved it. Sophie had orchestrated everything. She convinced Henry to cut our child from my body and give it to her, then stole my phone to frame me for infidelity. She also asked him not to look for me. Later, he found out the truth. The lifeless body he discovered was mine, and the child he had removed from my womb for Sophie was our own. My remains weren't even complete. He told himself it was for the best, that the child had done a good deed and would be blessed for it. But deep down, guilt consumed him. Still, in the end, he decided to marry Sophie. As my soul faded and seemed to be slipping away for good, he exposed Sophie's evil deeds at their wedding. In a final act of desperation, he dragged her and jumped down the building. She died instantly on the spot, but he didn't and went into a coma for life.

At my mother's funeral, I caught my husband passionately kissing a sales associate at the local department store. When I confronted him about it, he turned the tables and accused me of being paranoid and delusional. Later, I discovered she had been calling my husband "daddy" in their text messages. The betrayal left me emotionally numb, and I decided to step aside, giving them my blessing. What I did not expect was discovering that she was not just involved with my husband—she had been sleeping around with multiple men. When my husband finally learned the truth, he came crawling back to me with tears streaming down his face, begging for forgiveness. By then, I had already moved on with my life and wanted nothing to do with him.

When a hurricane comes, my husband, the leader of a rescue team, takes away everything we've stored at home so he can save his true love. I plead, "Leave some for me. I'm pregnant." He shakes me off. "How can you be so evil? The windows at Lottie's home have already been blown away. Don't tell me you're going to sit by and watch her die! She's not like you—you're not afraid of everything. The hurricane will be over soon, so you won't need any of this stuff." After that, he leaves without another look back. What he doesn't know is that there's also a crack in our home's windows.

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

In the seventh year of our marriage, I caught Nolan Garrison kissing his secretary at a bar. He called me shortly after I walked away. "It was just a friendly kiss! What’s with the attitude?" he snapped through the phone. I could hear his friends in the background teasing him and saying that I would be madly jealous while pleading for him not to leave me tonight as usual. Before hanging up, Nolan warned me that he wouldn’t come home if I didn’t apologize. However, I wasn’t bothered by his threat. I didn’t care if he decided to come home or get a divorce. Three minutes later, I posted an update on my social media: “Prioritize self-love and grant others the freedom they seek.”