How To Play The Apology Chord On Guitar?

For three years, I was nothing but a replacement. After my hundredth blood donation to my three wives' true love, I vanished from their lives. They bombarded my phones with thousands of phone calls and ten times that number of text messages. 'I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, honey! I know I let our mom down. You can do anything to me, but please don't leave me!' 'Please, honey, I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I won't do it again, I swear! Just come back!' 'You can't leave me, honey! You're going to drive me mad! I can't live without you!' 'Please, just tell me where you are! Take my call, please!' … I changed my SIM card once I went back to Imperia and blocked all my wives' contacts. Peace and quiet came back to me. Three months later, I was told that my wives' companies went bust, and the love of their lives swindled them out of every single cent they had. And now they were scouring the land for me. That was a joke. They did not panic when they still had everything. They should never have done what they did. Too late for regrets.

“God—” “Not God,” he muttered against my neck, biting the skin there. “Me. Say my name.” “Dorian!” I cried, back arching. “That’s it.” He stroked faster, his thumb teasing over the tip, slicking me up. “Good boy. Take it.” Ezra Monroe was raised to be pure. The perfect choir boy. Twenty-two and untouched—soft voice and eyes that have never looked too long at sin. But one man ruins everything. Father Dorian Vale. The moment his eyes meet Ezra’s, something snaps. And a good boy learns how to kneel for the wrong man. He was supposed to guide him to heaven. Instead, he’s teaching him how to sin. He’s not here to save Ezra. He’s here to ruin him. Slowly. Until every prayer sounds like his name.

Michaela Ferguson had tears streaming on her face and she had blood in the corner of her lips. She shook her head and replied, “It wasn’t me. When I arrived at Shalom shopping mall, your mistress was already injured.” Her husband, Thorne Ferguson didn’t believe her and said, “Pray that Paula will not die because should she die, I will bury you and your family alive.” Then he pushed her hard, and Michaela staggered and fell to the ground. Michaela was in a sorry state. She cursed the day she first met Thorne Ferguson. She had been nothing but a good wife to him. However, her husband had been cold and cruel towards her. Her heart was overwhelmed with bitterness. Thorne looked at his wife with icy-cold eyes and said sternly, “I will never forgive you for touching the love of my life. Paula is my bottom line. I will make sure that you get a life sentence. Please pray hard for her not to die, because should she die I don’t know what I will do to you and your family.”

"Elena, please. I made a mistake. We can start over—" My ex-husband was on his knees in my penthouse, tears streaming down his face. The same man who pushed me down the stairs. Who murdered my unborn daughters. Who watched me die. I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt nothing. "You want to apologize?" My voice was steady. Cold. "You should have thought of that before you killed our babies." His face crumpled. "Elena—" "It's too late to apologise." ★★★ When Damien pushed me down the stairs, I died knowing he'd destroyed me. My cheating husband and my best friend—his pregnant mistress—stood over my bleeding body and smiled. But death gave me a gift: I woke up three days before he destroyed my life. This time, I wouldn't be his victim. This time, I exposed his affair at our gender reveal party. Served him divorce papers in front of everyone. Took back everything he stole. Then Calloway Sterling appeared—the ruthless billionaire CEO my ex feared most. Six feet of dangerous power with storm-gray eyes. "Marry me. One year. He'll never touch you again." A contract marriage. Just revenge. Until Calloway's possessive touches felt too real. Until a paternity test proved he was my baby's father—not my ex-husband. "Three months ago, you went to a fertility clinic," Calloway told me. "The sample wasn't your ex-husband's. It was mine."

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I collapsed in the pack clinic after my ninety-ninth blood donation to my twin sister, Maeve. She'd been cursed since birth—a curse that could only be sustained by my blood. Our shared bond from the womb was the only thing keeping the dark magic at bay. When I woke up, the healer told me I had developed Aplastic anemia—a rare condition where my bone marrow was failing. Years of constant donations had finally broken my body down, and my wolf, Aurora, was too weak to fight it. I rushed to tell my family, hoping that this time would be different, only to find them at the bakery ordering a custom birthday cake with only Maeve's name on it. They'd forgotten my birthday entirely, even though we were twins born five minutes apart. At first, my sacrifice was met with love and praise. Now, it was nothing more than an obligation everyone expected. My family had chosen Maeve over me countless times before. This time, I decided to choose myself. I had two weeks before I would slip away from this pack house and their lives. Two weeks to prepare everything in silence while they remained oblivious. They would think I'd finally learned my place as Maeve's blood supply. But they would never realize I was counting down the days until I disappeared from their lives forever. By then, it would be too late.

"sorry you really think that is all, you think that will end it, you think that is all we need for the pain and mistakes you did to us, cut your craps Tony you are nothing but an asshole" Micheal said angrily "yes Michael I really hope saying I am sorry for the pain and mistakes I made will end everything" Tony said softly