Who Played Ross'S Wife In Friends?

Sold off into marriage to save her mother, Liora thought life would eventually be kind to her, but life threw a dagger at her in the hands of the man she had grown to love. Five years later, Liora Adams returns to New York, no longer the broken girl she once was but a famous doctor, determined to make everyone pay. Nothing prepared her when Travis Ashford looked her in the eyes and said, ‘I need a fix, doctor.’ ‘Mr. Ashford, you’ve got the money; why not get one? ” Liora asked. ‘Only you can fix me, Liora," Travis answered. Liora’s lip curved in amusement as she answered, ‘Oh, Mr. Ashford, fixing exes is not a part of my specialty.’

"Girl, you have to help me satisfy my husband. I honestly can't take it anymore." Recently, my wife couldn't handle my intensity anymore and went crying to her best friend for help. Wanting to ease the tension between us, her bestie decided to come to our house alone. She showed up in a sexy short dress that barely contained her curves. "So I hear you're pretty wild, huh? Let me see what all the fuss is about."

Ralph grabbed one of her thighs and hooked it over his arm as he leaned over her and re-entered her again. "Oh-J-Jesu-" she cried out before Ralph slapped his hand over her mouth. "Tsk-tsk," he hissed. "The gods aren't fucking you. The devil is.” There was no time for her to reply, as Alexei forcefully seized the back of her head and yanked it backwards. "Look how helpless you are... you fucking love it, don't you, wife?" he growled. "Come on, любовь. Beg." **** I loved them more than I hated them. And that scared me more than anything. They came to me in the night, cruel, darkly handsome men from the most dangerous corners of the world in name of helping me in my worst time. I should’ve known better that peace in this world come with a price. Price of my freedom. They tormented me, destroyed me, ripping apart my world with their quest for revenge. Two years ago, I met them. In our first meeting, I was betrothed to them. Now they’ve come to claim me, destroying anyone standing in their way. Even me. I fear them, I hate them and worse of all I couldn’t escape them.

Sophie Beckett was the perfect wife. Quiet. Devoted. Unremarkable. Or so her husband believed. When Sophie discovers Adrian's affair, she doesn't cry. She doesn't beg. She simply smiles, pours herself a drink, and starts making plans — because Sophie Langham didn't spend three years playing a role just to fall apart when the curtain dropped. Adrian Beckett thought he married a simple girl. He has no idea who he actually married. And by the time he finds out, it will already be too late.

Delancy lives with her father and works in his store. When the store falls into debt she agrees to marry the son of her father's wealthy​ friend. Marrying a man she could barely understand was difficult but the challenges she encounters as she tries to unravel him leads her to question what is love. Can she love someone that no one could?

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.