What Happens In The Last Chapter Of Discrete Mathematics And Its Applications?

Elena Cordova designed revolutionary algorithms for a multi-million-dollar company. The only formula she couldn't solve? Her own marriage. After seven years of being the invisible wife to a cold billionaire, Elena is finally trading in her wedding ring for her worth. Marcus Ashford married her for obligation, hid her from the world, and replaced her with a woman who played the perfect stepmother. But when he finally pushes her too far, he discovers that the brilliant, betrayed woman he dismissed has been running calculations all along. Now, Elena is back in the boardroom, her mind sharp, her fortune growing, and a handsome rival billionaire watching her every move. She wants revenge. She wants vindication. She wants her daughter back. Marcus thought she was a social climber. He thought she was docile. He thought he could replace her. He was wrong. He used her for her brilliance. Now, she'll use her brilliance to take everything back. Divorce is just the beginning of her beautiful, calculated comeback.

All I wanted was a one-night stand with a random guy, just to get back at my boyfriend, who had insulted me for never being able to feel anything with him. So, I left Brooklyn with my best friend, Ashley, to spend spring break in Cabo. The deal was simple: have fun like a normal young adult and hook up with any guy... just to prove a point. I ended up in the bed of a man with the most mesmerizing eyes I’d ever seen—a man I knew absolutely nothing about. He pleased me in ways I didn’t think were possible. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered brush of his hands against my skin ignited a hunger I never knew I had. But when I woke up the next morning, the stranger was gone. I thought it was just a forgotten one-night stand, someone I’d never see again. Until I found out he was my new statistics professor. It was supposed to be one meaningless night, but now I crave him in ways I never knew were possible. Even knowing he could be my downfall, I still want him. Still crave him. Still want him to ruin me in whatever way he desires.

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

The 100th time Dexter Carrington ditches me to help my best friend with her lab work, I write the final line in my diary and break up with him. Dexter is exasperated, to say the least. "I genuinely don't know how your amygdala is wired. Your emotions have completely bulldozed your rational thinking." My best friend, Brianna Holt, laughs. "That's cruel. You're insulting her intelligence in words she can't even understand." She's right. I don't understand. The two of them dominate the biology department rankings every year, taking first and second place, and are the kind of prodigies even their professors defer to. I'm just an ordinary student at the music school next door. When they talk about how cells have their own rhythms, the only thing I can think to ask is what time signature those rhythms are in. Dexter always hates that. "If you don't understand, don't chime in." So now I listen. I don't chime in anymore. Because the first page of this diary reads, "Today is my birthday, but Dexter chose to go over data with Brianna. "By the time this diary is full, I'm leaving him for good."

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

Following the success of her two novels, Cela receives an offer for the TV adaptation of her stories but a third story has to be written soon to complete a three-story special. She is not in to the project until she rediscovers the paper bearing the address of the meeting place of her supposed first date with Nate. Now that her mother is no longer around to interfere, she becomes inspired to reunite with him after many years and hopefully write the third novel based on their new story. Unfortunately, he is now about to get married in two months. Disappointed with the turn of events, she decides not to meet him again. She visits their old meeting place and finds it a good place to write but unexpectedly meets him there. They agree not to talk to each other if they meet there again but fate leads them to meet again under different circumstances leaving them no choice but to speak to each other. Suddenly, Nate’s fiancée starts acting weird and suggests that he spend the weekend with Cela while she is away. Although it confuses him, he figures that it is her way of helping him get closure. The two spend one Sunday reminiscing the past expecting a closure in the end but the wonderful moment they share this time only makes it harder to achieve that closure so Cela has to put a stop to it saying, “Please don't think even for a second that there is still something left or something new to explore after everything that happened or did not happen. This is not a novel. This is reality. We don't get sequels or spin-offs in real life. We just continue. We move forward and that's how we get to the ending."