How To Help A Jealous Boyfriend Overcome Insecurity?

Years ago, I sacrificed my freedom and a year of my life for the man I loved, only to find out that he betrayed and lied to me without a second thought for those sacrifices. Now fate has randomly made our paths cross, when I thought I would never see him again, and once again, I'm at his mercy because in an agonizing twist of fate, he's my new boss. Crazy, I know, but now, I hate him with every fiber of my being. At first, the feeling seems mutual, but it doesn't take long before we realize that we both misunderstood what happened in our past, and have been hating each other based on blatant lies. Unfortunately, the damage has already been done, and even though Jeff is remorseful, will I be able to overcome my resentment towards him for all the hurt and pain he has caused me in his quest for revenge?

Warning: This book contains, violence, explicit and disturbing scenes- — My seemingly perfect marriage was torn apart on my third wedding anniversary. After getting married to Alpha Hades of the Silvermist pack, my fated mate and the man I vowed to love till eternity. I was met with thorns in my marital home. When I thought our formidable marriage would never sever, my husband's first love returned, and despite being his wife, I couldn't help but feel like a third wheel, caught between the two of them. Now, I want a divorce, but my husband is unyielding and refuses to let me go.

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

My boyfriend goes viral after uploading a video of him being lovey-dovey with a woman. Everyone praises him for being handsome and a good boyfriend, but I don't even have the courage to like the video. Why? Because the woman in the video isn't me.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

I always thought my boyfriend came from a poor family. One day, I saw him drink a bottle of wine worth 100,000 while tipping the waiter over 1,000. The watch he gave away without a second thought was worth millions. Yet, his gift for my birthday was a dirt-cheap trinket. He claimed it was a test to make sure I was not a gold digger. Later on, I proved that I was not a gold digger. That was when he begged and pleaded for me to accept his extravagant gift.