1945 Pulitzer Winning

I didn't think much of her during the interview but my boyfriend decided to hire her. Not only was her work substandard, but her attitude toward me was hostile. I found out later that she was his ex.

On the day of my seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's lover gave my son a pet cat. My pregnancy made me allergic to cat fur, and rashes appeared all over my body. Sensing that it might lead to a miscarriage, I told my son to return the cat. "I'm keeping it!" my five-year-old son, Zachary, protested. He pushed me and said, "I hate having you as my mom! I want Aunt Lynn to be my mom!" My husband, Quinton Locke, tore into me. "Why did you have to develop an allergy now, out of all times? Is your jealousy blinding you to the point where you won't even consider your son 's feelings? You're being unreasonable!" He carried Zachary up and left with the cat. They had eschewed me in favor of Lynn Shelbert, Quinton's lover and the 'apple of his eye'. I collapsed on the ground, watching as blood began to soak my pants. At that moment, I knew I had suffered a miscarriage. I felt an unimaginable pain while I was in the hospital. My husband and son went traveling with Lynn, resembling a happy family of three. Lynn sent me a message. [Do you know why Quinton married you even though he's hopelessly in love with me? Well, I wanted a son and a daughter, but I didn't want to bear the risks that come with pregnancy. It's a shame you had a miscarriage.] Despair engulfed me that very instant. I hired a lawyer to prepare the divorce papers and took a flight back to my hometown. My sole wish was to never see Quinton and Zachary again.

On the day I was declared pregnant, I ran into my husband in the ob-gyn. He was with his long-lost love for a prenatal checkup. "I'm not going home tonight. As you can see, I have business to attend to," Lawrence said quietly as he left with an arm wrapped around Melissa. I fell silent and booked an abortion surgery. Everyone around us thought I was a simp for Lawrence. They thought I wouldn't leave, no matter how badly he mistreated me. He had the same thought. No one knew that I only married him to repay a debt. That debt was now repaid. Ten years was up, and I could finally end this abominable marriage.

My husband, Henry Luther, never loved me.He's always loved my younger sister instead.I chose to step aside and fulfill their love.But no one believed my sincere sacrifice..."Are you trying to act pitiful again?" Henry stared at me with a hostile look in his eyes.

Eight years ago, a night of drunken recklessness left me carrying Grayson Ulrich's child. But from that moment on, he began to hate both me and our daughter. He never allowed her to call him "Dad." He wouldn't let me step into his study, either. Because inside that study, every inch of space was filled with traces of another woman—Sandra Wright, the ex-fiancée who had once left him for freedom and happiness, who had gone abroad to marry a rich man. She was the one Grayson could never forget. The one he still loved. On our eighth anniversary, Sandra returned. That night, Grayson got drunk for the first time in years. He held our daughter in his arms and wept until his eyes were red. My daughter looked at me, bewildered. "Mom, why is Uncle crying?" I held back my tears and told her softly, "Because he is very happy. The person he loves has finally come back." Then I said, "So, Mommy's taking you away—so we won't disturb him and the woman he loves, okay?"

After completing my mission, I married the man I had been trying to win over. On our wedding night, I told him that the system had given me ninety-nine regret pills. Whenever he did something that hurt me, I would take one. Once all the pills were gone, I would completely leave his life. He held me close and promised he would never give me a reason to regret being with him. Three months into our marriage, his childhood sweetheart came back from abroad. The first time he stayed out all night, he realized that I would quietly take a pill after just crying once. After that, he began to act without any restraint. Ten years later, on our anniversary, his childhood sweetheart threatened to kill herself again. He left me without hesitation to handle the situation. The next day, he returned with his neck covered in love bites and begged for my forgiveness. I did not cry. I looked at him calmly and asked, “Can I take one of the regret pills?” He shrugged as if it did not matter. “Go ahead. There are plenty left.” I smiled and let him bring her into our home. He did not know that there were only three pills left in the box. Once they were gone, I would leave him for good.

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

On my wedding day, Levi Robbins' "close friend" Gina Fields suddenly fainted. Without hesitation, he dropped everything and rushed to the hospital, leaving me at the altar. My mother, witnessing this humiliating scene from her seat, suffered a heart attack. Yet, none of the guests bothered to help as they were too busy gossiping and laughing at my misfortune. By the time I managed to get her to the hospital, we had missed the critical window for treatment. Just then, Levi finally called, his voice urgent and demanding. "Caitlyn, where are you? Gina's condition is critical, and she needs your bone marrow!" "Levi, we're done," I said firmly, hanging up and walking away. This time, I would not look back.

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

My usually cold and distant wife shared a bowl of soup with her newly joined colleague. Surprisingly, I felt calm, even as I brought up divorce. She sneered at me, "Don't be ridiculous. I'm exhausted. He's just a colleague of mine." "Even if we're married, you have no right to interfere with what I do with my colleagues." "If that's what you think, then I can't help you." When I actually put the divorce papers in front of her, she flew into a rage. "Ryan, do you think the Wagners were still what they used to be? You're nothing without me!"