Where Can I Find Short Quotes About Giving For Cards?

I was slowly dying from Silverthorn Wolfsbane, and there was only one cure—the Miracle Elixir. But my mate, Leo Ashford, bought it and gave it to my adoptive sister, Jane Smith. He did it because he thought I was faking my illness. I gave up on the treatment and swallowed a potent painkiller instead. It would kill me in three days by shutting down my organs. In those three days, I gave up everything. I handed over the fur manufacturing business I built from the ground up to Jane, and my parents praised me for caring about my sister. I offered to sever our mate bond, and Leo praised me for finally being sensible. When I told my son he could call Jane "mommy", he happily said that his new mommy was the best! I transferred all my savings to Jane, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were just pleased with my "better behavior". "Viola is finally not so bad." I wondered—would they regret it after I was gone?

The night I got back from my work trip, the drugstore called—said my rewards card got declined that afternoon. I needed to reload it. Adrian was in the kitchen, laser-focused on dinner. I asked what he'd bought. He grinned, pulled out a box of supplements. "Been working late. Heart's been acting up, so I grabbed some support vitamins." I didn't say anything. He sighed, dug out a bank card. "I know you're all about money. Used your rewards card by accident. I'll pay you back ten times. Deal?" Normally, I'd take it. This time, I didn't. I just looked at him. "Let's get a divorce."

We had been married for three years, and together, our income was decent at twenty-six grand a month. Yet, we barely had two hundred bucks in savings. My husband was a nice guy, lending practically his entire wages to our next-door widow and her daughter. He covered their expenses when the daughter needed money for school, when the widow needed a little time at the spa, and when they wanted to give their home a new facelift. The moment my father fell ill and needed surgery, I went next door to ask for the money back. However, my neighbors slammed the door in my face. “Your husband chose to give us the money. Why should we pay you back?” Enraged, I sought help from my husband, only to be criticized. “I felt bad for them. Why did you demand payment when they are already struggling? What’s wrong with you?” I smirked. That night, I decided to do a good deed by spending my entire paycheck to help a broke college hunk. The next day, our power was cut off for unpaid bills, and my husband lost an unfinished document he hadn’t saved. Putting his finger up my nose, he gave me a piece of his mind. “Where’s your money? Why didn’t you pay the bills?” I replied with the most innocent look on my face, “I helped a struggling college student. His life was falling apart because he had to deal with a sick mom and a deadbeat dad. His needs should come before the utility bills.”

My mother suffered a heart attack. We had to pay a deposit of thirty thousand dollars before she could receive bypass surgery. I borrowed money from all my relatives and friends and scraped together this life-saving sum. When I was queuing to pay the fee, my husband said, “Why don’t you go get your mom some water to keep her hydrated? I’ll wait in line and handle the payment.” When I returned with the cup of water, I saw him giving the stack of cash to a family member of a patient he had just met. “Hey, we crossed paths for a reason, man. Take this for now. You clearly need it more. We’re fine on our end, trust me,” he said boastfully and patted his chest. He had always been a show-off. A nurse stood outside the resuscitation room with a consent form in her hand as she shouted for a family member to sign. My mother’s heart monitor had already gone flat.

Everyone knew that Daniel Cardea kept the most obedient mistress. I had no temper, no dignity, and no spine. I stayed ready to kneel at his feet. This lawyer, the best in all of Silverton, trapped the rest of my life with a single contract. He felt certain that no law could help me break it. He was right. The law governed the living, not the dead. On his 30th birthday, I planned to give him a carefully prepared gift. I planned to end this indefinite contract with my heart once it stopped beating. February 16, 2026. It was three days until Daniel’s birthday, three days until the surprise arrived.

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.