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I balled my hands into fists and chunked my shoe at him. A little drastic, but called for in the heat of the moment. Madden chuckled and lunged for me, tossing me over his shoulder. My body blazed like an inferno from the feeling of his fingers against my bare thighs. Every innocent touch he'd given me over the years meant nothing, because the rough skin of his palm soared me over into oblivion. I felt so undone I didn't realize he'd walked us all the way into my room until he tossed me face first onto my bed. Before I could defend myself, I felt his palm come down sharply on my butt cheek. A gasp broke from me, and my fingers tightened into the covers. Heat swarmed my cheeks and nerves skated down to the throbbing juncture between my thighs.

What makes a hero? They say a hero is someone that has given his life to something bigger than himself. I say a hero is no braver than an ordinary man, he is just braver for five minutes longer. All soldiers are brave, it's what they do with their bravery that makes them heroes. Am I a hero? Clayton Jackson dedicated his life to serving his country. Enlisting in the Marine Corps at the young age of eighteen, he never imagined following any other path. However, fate had other plans for him as a life-altering accident during his last deployment left him disabled and forces him to return home. Hiding in the small town he grew up in, Clayton tries to keep his secret from his loved ones at all costs. One day while seeking refuge from his troubled mind, his path crosses with Isabella Jones. Their connection is instantaneous as if the universe conspired to bring them together. Isabella, a mysterious and enigmatic woman, is haunted by the demons from her own past. As their relationship quickly blossoms, the unspoken truths between them threaten to tear them apart. When Clayton is presented with the opportunity to rejoin the Marine Corps, Isabella is faced with a decision: whether to accompany him or remain behind. Caught in this web of secrets and lies, they try to navigate their love through the murky waters, desperately hoping to find solace in each other's arms. But will love be enough to conquer the shadows that lingered in their hearts? Or would the truth ultimately be their undoing?

What makes a hero? They say a hero is someone that has given his life to something bigger than himself. I say a hero is no braver than an ordinary man, he is just braver for five minutes longer. All soldiers are brave, it's what they do with their bravery that makes them heroes. Am I a hero? Clayton Jackson dedicated his life to serving his country. Enlisting in the Marine Corps at the young age of eighteen, he never imagined following any other path. However, fate had other plans for him as a life-altering accident during his last deployment left him disabled and forces him to return home. Hiding in the small town he grew up in, Clayton tries to keep his secret from his loved ones at all costs. One day while seeking refuge from his troubled mind, his path crosses with Isabella Jones. Their connection is instantaneous as if the universe conspired to bring them together. Isabella, a mysterious and enigmatic woman, is haunted by the demons from her own past. As their relationship quickly blossoms, the unspoken truths between them threaten to tear them apart. When Clayton is presented with the opportunity to rejoin the Marine Corps, Isabella is faced with a decision: whether to accompany him or remain behind. Caught in this web of secrets and lies, they try to navigate their love through the murky waters, desperately hoping to find solace in each other's arms. But will love be enough to conquer the shadows that lingered in their hearts? Or would the truth ultimately be their undoing?

This is a human hotel. Every morning is new. Joy, stress, sadness, moment awareness are unexpected guests... welcome and enjoy everyone. Respect every guest. Dark thoughts, shame and evil smiles invite you to the threshold. Give thanks to all who come, for all have been sent as guides from without.

Once I begged for your love while our son drew his last breath. Now watch me take back everything you hold dear. The first time, I died on a rain-slicked road with my four-year-old's name on my lips and my husband's rejection still burning in my chest. Silas Vance took three years from me. Three years of existing like furniture in his mansion while he draped Clara over his arm at every gala, every interview, every moment that mattered. When our son needed him, really needed him he let my calls go to voicemail. Thirteen times. I counted. Our son didn't make it through the night. Neither did I. Then I opened my eyes. Two years earlier. Divorce papers on the nightstand. My son's laugh echoing from down the hall. This time, I won't beg. Won't wait. Won't shrink myself small enough to fit in the shadows he assigned me. This time, I'll become someone he doesn't recognize. Someone who smiles at his enemies, steals his deals, and dismantles his empire while he's still searching for his meek little wife. When he finally figures it out—when he's pounding on my door, begging for answers, desperate for a second chance? I'll hand him those signed papers and remind him: Some deaths are just the beginning.

I married Mason Fleming, who comes from a prestigious family with a long line of lawyers, at 19. For over 20 years, I devoted myself fully to our home by raising our child, keeping the household together, and supporting his career. Now I'm 40, and he cheats on me. Friends and relatives try to advise me. "Your husband is handsome and successful. He even lets you manage the money he earns. Compared to most men, he's considered one of the good ones." In other words, they want me to turn a blind eye and continue playing the role of a "good wife" to maintain appearances. But I can't keep up with the act anymore.