Who Is The Author Of 52 Verses Every Mom Should Know?

After six years of bloodshed, the emperor returns. With this strong body of mine, I can defeat ruffians. I can protect damsels...

Having a one night stand with a man she thought was a model in a small bar,she got pregnant. Desperate,she looked for the father and strangely enough,she did not find the man. Three years later, he's back and she recognized him to be the most wealthiest billionaire in the city. Scared and shocked,her job was on the line,and now, after being fired,she found another job and she was shocked to see that her babies father is her boss.

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

I gave my husband, Creighton, five years of unconditional love, only for him to throw divorce papers at me the moment his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, returned to the country. Broken-hearted and realizing I was just a placeholder in his life, I signed the papers and walked away without telling him that I was pregnant with his twins. I moved across the country, built a massive organic skincare empire, and raised my beautiful children with the help of my loyal best friend, Darius, who became the perfect father figure they needed. I built a life so grand and successful that I completely forgot the pain of my past. But five years later, Creighton crosses paths with my children at a business convention and notices the striking resemblance to himself. Now, he wants forgiveness, he wants his family back, and he is willing to beg on his knees. Too bad for him, I do not need his money, I do not need his status, and my heart is no longer up for grabs.

Mom is always very strict with both my elder sisters, Esther and Emily Kingston. She always wakes them up at 5:00 am to make them study. And if they refuse to wake up, Mom will grab an embroidery needle and stab it into my arm. When fresh blood spills out, Esther and Emily will both get a fright and scramble to their desks at once to begin studying. Sometime during the year-end exam, Esther gets one easy question wrong, and I receive ten lashes with Mom's belt. Emily gets only the second-highest score in class, and I am forced to kneel on glass until my knees turn bloodied and torn. Esther and Emily feel sorry for me and fall to their knees, begging Mom to have mercy on me and promising that they will study hard and make her proud of them. Mom smiles happily and says that this teaching method works very well. However, after the SATs, Esther applies for a college out of state, and Emily tells Mom that she is eloping with a young man whom she has fallen in love with. Mom is so angry that she yanks me over and stuffs me into a huge fish tank before beginning to fill it up with water. She then takes a video of me, threatening to drown me alive if they don't listen to her and do exactly as she says. The water keeps rising in the tank. I feel scared, but I don't struggle because Mom always tells me that the only reason for my existence is to be made an example out of for Esther and Emily. She often quotes Shakespeare's "Othello", telling me about how I am the "sacrificial" dog one beats to scare a lion and teach it obedience. I think that I am considered quite a qualified dog after all, right?

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."