How Does 'The Grapes Of Wrath' Book End?

"You could have chosen anyone. Women throw themselves at you, I'm certain of it. Women who would die to be your chosen… your mate. Why take me, someone unwilling?" "I did not choose you," he said, with a shrug. "Alexandros and Nikolaos did." "Then what's stopping you from setting me free? From choosing another?" I challenged. "I don't want another." ***** Becoming the bride of the most desired and dangerous Alpha is no fairytale, but a bloody nightmare. Lyla Gray, a young human woman, is taken from a life of poverty and dumped into a world of wealth and Lycans... sold into an arranged union with a man she neither trusts nor desires. Her marriage to Zephyrus Wrath, the fearsome and filthy-rich Alpha of a dominant Lycan pack, is not born out of love, but forced by his pack’s traditions. He never wanted a mate. But when duty calls, he bends to take a bride. What he doesn’t expect is to want her. Uncontrollably. Madly. Yet even as the desire is evident between them, he refuses to force the bond. He wants Lyla to choose him willingly. But Lyla is no calm, submissive woman. She challenges him at every turn, determined to frustrate him enough to make him back down and send her away. Yet in doing so, she draws dangerous attention to herself. Eyes that see her as ungrateful, as someone who should feel honored to be Zephyr’s 'Chosen'.

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.

When applying for colleges, I give up a prestigious university for Priscilla Reed's sake. But in the fifth year of our relationship, I break up with her. I see her outside the dorms, diving into Jeremy Stark's arms and tilting her face up to kiss him as no one else matters. Priscilla sneers at me. "You're just some farmer. What kind of life can you possibly give me?" She seems to forget that the Chanel dress she wears and the Hermès bag she carries are things I bought for her. That's the moment I end things with her. Let someone else play the doormat. I'm done. After that, I focus on farming, even managing to grow crops on the moon. Then, the press reveals who I really am—the son of Javonbury's richest man. Jeremy's father comes to me, bowing and scraping. He even forces Jeremy to kneel in front of me so that he can beg me for a partnership. Priscilla's eyes are red and swollen as she tugs on my sleeve and tells me she regrets everything.

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

By day, I was a maid in Chester Graham's household. By night, I was nothing more than a way for him to satisfy his desires. After one encounter, he dragged me from the bed, indifferent to my pain. "You don't have to come back," he said flatly. I collapsed to the floor in terror. "Did I do something wrong? Please don't send me away." The man who had murmured comforts to me only moments earlier now gazed down with icy detachment. "Wendy has agreed to marry me. "She's afraid of pain. You were nothing more than a tool for me to practice on. Once used, you're thrown away. "You've always been obedient. You know what you're supposed to do."