What Are The Best Historical Letters Featured In Films?

Since battling over a spade in kindergarten, Dior and Patricia have been life sworn enemies. Despite Dior being the future alpha, Patricia never respected or feared him. She was always a daring omega, not afraid of stating her opinion. With age, the venom runs thicker in their veins. While Dior becomes popular and sought-after, Patricia finds herself bullied by the entire pack. Sick of the treatment she receives, Patricia decides to go rogue, only for fate to laugh her in the face—it turns out the alpha she left is her mate.

That night, drunk and heartbroken after her fiancé’s betrayal, Celeste accidentally sent her masturbation video to her boss, Lazarrus Walkez V, the ruthless billionaire who lives in permanent numbness. The next morning, a single text arrived, “Come to my office, Little doe.” From that moment…he offered her a dirty deal, and she became the only one who could awaken the monster that had been dead inside him. Revenge turned into obsession. Obsession turned into love.

Crossing part with Satan's heir was never my plan. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now, he is under my tail. Betrayed by my supposed fiancé, stuck with the devil himself. If he was the only man on Earth, I would rather die single, but I can't, not when he stalks me, makes me shiver at his touch and make me beg desperately, on my knees. I wasn't ready to accept him in my life, not after the first betrayal from my fiancé but he forced his way into my life, and turned my world upside down.

My best friend and my husband, Lorenzo Bartoli, fought every time they met. Lorenzo was the Don of the family, while my best friend was his Consigliere. She always fiercely opposed his most ruthless, high-risk decisions. Tempers explode every single time. But there was one rule that they both agreed on without any hesitation. No one was allowed to touch me. Because of them, no one in the city dared to cross me. Until the fifth month of my pregnancy, when I went down to the basement vault to organize Lorenzo's guns for him. I opened the safe to see stacks of letters, hundreds of them, all unsent. I picked one up. The moment I opened the letter, cold dread overwhelmed me. The receiver of the letter wasn't me. [My dearest Sofia…] I quickly scanned downward to the final lines of the letter. [If I don't make it back alive, everything in the Swissie accounts goes to you. As for Vittoria, she's a good woman, but I have never loved her.] With trembling hands, I tore open the rest of the letters like a hysterical woman. Three hundred of them in total. Every single one was addressed to Sofia Finzi. Sofia was not a stranger. She was my best friend.

On the seventh year after the breakup, I receive a package from Clarence Fraser. All 44 pounds of said package consist of the stacks of chat history I have with him in the past. Soon, Clarence's text appears on my phone screen. "Wanna meet up? I'd like to tell you something." I pause momentarily before responding with a "1". That number signifies rejection. Then, I turn my phone off. After wiping my sweat off with a towel, I pick up another crate of fruits and continue promoting them to the customers loudly, as though nothing has happened. It's been so many years, and I don't know why Clarence decides to text me all of a sudden. Similarly, he doesn't know that I've already become someone else's wife a long time ago.

After years of investment from my company, my boyfriend finally broke into show business. At last, he won an Oscar. True to his promise, he married me. Then, during a backstage interview, he said, "It was transactional. I had to marry her in exchange for the funding." His braindead fans came after me soon afterward. They stalked me and, one day, poured sulfuric acid over my face. The attack left me disfigured. He sent me to the hospital, but that was just another part of his scheme. Before long, the world believed I had died from complications. When I returned to life, I decided to invest in someone else. After all, he was the only person who had mourned my death and given me a proper burial.