Where Can I Read 'For Seven Years' Online?

It was all about a year. Just one simple year. They got married because of his Grandmother's wish. He didn't fall for her in that one year but she did. She didn't expect he would still hold on that contract after being married for a whole year but he did. He terminated the contract after a year and told her that it was over without any regret. He had gifted her divorce papers on their first wedding anniversary. He had expected her to throw a tantrum but too bad cause she didn't. Instead she just packed her bags and left just like he had asked her to. Then all of sudden one year later they met again. But she didn't change like those cliche heroines after divorce. She was the same as she was a year ago. Stupid, clumsy and stubborn. He didn't realise what he lost like those cliche ex husbands when he saw her for the first time after a year. But why did it sting watching her talking to some other men so casually? Why did it sting when she didn't look at him with those puppy lovesick eyes anymore? Why did it sting so much when she treated him like other ordinary people? It shouldn't have right? SLOW UPDATE AND UPDATE 3 DAYS PER WEEK. PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THIS AND DON'T COMPLAIN LATER:)

Within 30 days, Niccolò Romano and I registered for divorce 18 times. The first time, Niccolò's adopted sister stole my research results, but he hired a lawyer to fight for her. Afterwards, he held me and coaxed, "If something happens to Lia, no one will dare to hire her in the future. I'm just helping her." The second time, while my plane was in distress, he was traveling around the world with Lia. His tone was helpless: "Lia has depended on me since she was little. I only look after her like a younger sister." The last time, Lia was pregnant with a child no one would claim, and he took responsibility for it. Faced with my accusation, he just sighed, a bit tired: "Lia's career is just starting to take off. If someone blackmails her with the child, her life will be ruined." "You're a woman too. Can't you understand?" This time, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I calmly signed my name on the divorce agreement that he had signed in a fit of pique some time ago. Then I called my professor: "I've thought it over. I'm willing to go with you to Iceland to do research."

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

Xander (Alexander Michelle) is hated by his family not because he was the sole survivor of the tragic accident that claimed the lives his parents. He’s hated because his father left everything to him—every cent, every asset, the entire Michelle empire. But, the Will provided a clause: until he is married, he can't assess his fortune. For twenty years, Xander was cast out, exiled by the same man who now reminds him of the clause— the same man who spent the last two decades burning through what wasn’t his—his grandfather, Jacob Michelle. Now, Xander is back. And he’s furious. He is ready to marry just to reclaim what’s his. But there’s another condition: he must marry the woman his grandfather chooses: Tatiana Richardson (Tiana), a woman who is willing to marry Xander to escape harassment from her uncle and her mother's taunts. Both are desperate to get what they want, Xander, his fortune and Tiana, her freedom. But freedom isn’t that simple. A deal is struck: 7-days-marriage. No strings. No real vows. Just seven days to fulfill a legal requirement. Will this be enough for Tiana to gain the freedom from her problems? Will these seven days be a total freedom for Tatiana when Xander sees her as nothing but a desperate woman after his money, just like his family? Will there be a chance where Xander will take a pause and look differently at Tiana when he doesn't believe she is as feeble as she looks, especially since Tiana has his grandfather's backing?

I was three months pregnant when the car crash happened. In those final moments of fading consciousness, I frantically dialed Damian’s private, encrypted line—the one meant only for emergencies. He never picked up. By the time I was rushed into surgery, I received a crushing blow: Damian had forcibly reassigned my lead private physician to the South District. He needed the best doctor to treat his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn, who had just been widowed. When I finally drifted awake through a haze of agony, my trembling fingers swiped open Instagram. I saw Evelyn’s latest post: “I knew that no matter the distance or the time, Damian would move heaven and earth to reach me. He even brought his Chief Physician just to help me heal from my grief.” In the accompanying photo, Damian—a man known for his cold, lethal eyes—was gazing at the woman beside him with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. While I was clawing my way back from the brink of death, fighting to save our child, my husband was playing protector to another pregnant woman. A hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Without a second thought, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I opened my inbox and hit "Confirm" on the invitation from the world’s most elite International Finance Institute. If Evelyn is all he cares about, I’ll give them my blessing. In seven days, I will vanish from his world forever—and I’m taking my baby with me.

I've planned seven wedding ceremonies in total, and not once has my fiance, Zachary Gardner, ever shown up for it. The first time, his adopted younger sister, Louise Foster, bursts into tears because she lost her passport at the airport. It was the dead of winter, but he dumped me by the side of the road and left me. The second time, Louise's dog sprained its ankle. Zachary stuffed the ring back into its box and rushed to the animal hospital to accompany her. Every time I argue with him about it, he declares nonchalantly, "We can get married anytime, but I can't let Louise be upset." Everyone around us agrees with him, saying that we're all family anyway, so I shouldn't be so petty. None of them has seen Zachary and Louise kissing fiercely on the dance floor. Today is the seventh wedding ceremony. Once again, he turns to leave after getting a call. I grab the corner of his shirt and say in a choked voice, "If you leave this time, Zachary, I won't marry you anymore." He stops in his tracks and peels off my fingers. "Wait for me," he says before rushing off. What he doesn't know is that this time, I won't be waiting for him any longer.