Handled Synonym Resume Novels & Stories

I begged my husband for weeks before he finally agreed to come with me to my prenatal appointment. The whole time, he just stood there with his hands buried in his pockets, watching me coldly as I handled everything on my own—paying the bills, checking in at the front desk, running around like crazy until I was completely overwhelmed. The second I walked into the exam room, he vanished into thin air. And to top it off, he took off in my car, leaving me to take the bus home by myself. As soon as I got on the bus, my phone buzzed. He'd sent me a screenshot of a receipt: [Companionship fee: 50 dollars] [Round-trip gas: 7 dollars] [Total: 57 dollars] There was also a voice message attached. "Our marriage is strictly fifty-fifty. What does your pregnancy checkup have to do with me? Why should I give up my day off to go to the hospital with you?" Listening to that icy message, I suddenly remembered the way he once got down on his knees in front of me, begging me to help pay for his education. I was so angry, I just started laughing. Fine then. If this was a fifty-fifty marriage, it was time to settle the score!

My child-free husband went back to his hometown for a funeral, and after he returned, he suddenly wanted me to have a baby. He was one of the best obgyns in the state, so he handled my IVF procedure himself. After more than 160 hormone shots, we finally heard the baby’s rhythmic heartbeats for the first time, which made my usually calm husband tear up. Soon, he tightened every part of my routine, from a strict diet to my schedule, and once my belly started showing, he barely let me get out of bed. I thought he was just being overly protective. But then, right by my ear, I heard a nasty little boy’s voice. [Which player starts their mission inside the womb? And she’s not even my mom!] [Just four more months. My dad will make sure she dies on the operating table so he can keep only his son.] [After that, he’ll bring my real mom back, and my mission will be complete!] I canceled my afternoon checkup immediately as soon as I heard this. Did the system forget to tell him that he wasn’t the only player in this world?

On my mother’s seventieth birthday party, I ran around handling various matters, paying out of pocket and putting in all the work. I did not even have the time to sit down and drink a sip of water. When I finally found the time to surprise her, I prepared eighty-eight grams of gold jewelry as her gift. Just as I was about to give it to her, I heard her talking to the other relatives. “See that? My daughter is truly my sweetheart. She woke up so early this morning to bake me this cake. I wouldn’t trade this cake for gold.” Our relatives immediately began praising my younger sister, Jessie Radley, for being so devoted. Only a couple of them pushed back. “Why aren’t you praising your eldest daughter, Mary? I heard she handled the entire birthday party.” “Tch. She only knows how to muddle through things. None of it had been done to my liking. Jessie is the good one. She got up at seven in the morning just to bake me this cake.” I turned around and walked away from the doorway. Since she loved Jessie so much, she could pay for this birthday party, worth eighty thousand dollars.

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.

For three years, Selene Kingsley had been everything Malcolm Sullivan could ask for. She handled every detail of his pack, swallowed every grievance, and stood by him without ever asking for more. But he still refused to claim her as the Luna of the Blackridge Pack. He wouldn't even give her a marking ceremony. It wasn't until she witnessed his betrayal with her own eyes that she finally understood. His heart had never been hers. It had always belonged to his first love. Shattered, she ended things. Malcolm only sneered at her. "You're an Omega. What can you do without me?" What he didn't know was that her true identity was the heir of the Lunaris Pack, an Alpha by blood. When she returned home, she reclaimed her honor, wealth, and status. However, she also needed to choose a powerful mate to secure an alliance. So she chose the strongest Alpha among the major pack—the Alpha commander Blake Lancaster, and bound herself to him. She thought their union would be nothing more than a political match, a practical arrangement where both sides got what they needed. She had no idea this formidable alpha had wanted her for a very long time.

"I'm still a virgin." He pulls away from me and appears surprised. "No, then we'll have to stop," He pulls away from me. I don't want this to stop. Something about this feels right. I'm not repulsed by a man touching me for the first time. I resume kissing him. "No, no, we don't." I mumble as I lock my lips with his and ease my hand into his trousers. Emily Adams needs money to afford surgery for her critically ill brother Liam, in her attempt to find another job she stumbles upon an ad offering to pay $350,000 but the only catch is she has to become a surrogate for a stranger. Billionaire Jacob Collin doesn't have time for women, he is only concerned about the family business, persuaded by his grandmother he agrees to have a child but when he meets the woman who has agreed to be his surrogate he begins to fall in love. Their encounter leaves them both yearning for the other, as Emily start getting attached and is unwilling to pull through with the contract and Jacob takes it upon himself to discover the identity of his surrogate but there are forces that wants to keep them apart. Can they find each other and kindle their love or will they never be together?

I was Callum's secret mate for twelve years. I managed his internal affairs, placated the elders, guarded the borders, fought off rogues, and handled every mess he didn't want to deal with. But he never looked me in the eye in public. Even when I was pregnant and attacked by rogue wolves, he was having sex with the daughter of an Alpha from the neighboring wolf pack. I didn't hesitate to sever my mate bond and leave. Five years later, I met him again at a Multi-Pack Council banquet. He looked at my logo-free clothes, his eyes filled with arrogant disdain: "Sera, I'm marrying Vivienne next month. She's an Alpha's daughter; only she deserves to be Luna. But I can send you back to the wolf pack to be my mistress." I scoffed: "Save it." The next second, my daughter called: "Mommy! Mommy, when are you coming home? Maisie misses you!" Hearing my daughter's voice, Callum regained his arrogant confidence: "Sera. That's my pup, isn't it? You still love me. Even after you left, you kept our baby." I stared at him for a second. Then I slapped him across the face. He didn't know that our child had been miscarried during the rogue wolf attack, and Maisie was my and Alpha King's pup.

I took a drugged drink for Moretti, the Don I had loved for seven years. He helped Bella, my frightened sister, to her feet first. "Bella is fragile. I'll get her to the car." "Iris, wait here. I'll come back for you soon." My stomach burned like fire, but my fingers were turning cold. I stood there frozen for a long moment before a bitter laugh slipped out. It was the ninety-ninth time he had chosen Bella. In college, I once waited for him in the library with a fever, expecting him to take me home. Then Bella called and said her panic attack was back, so he told me to wait. Years later, I entered the Valtieri family and became his underboss. I balanced his books, negotiated his deals, took bullets for him. He still believed I would always wait. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay clear-headed while I handled another round of probing from the rival family. At one in the morning, Moretti still had not come back. Bella's post appeared first. In the photo, Moretti was making her a late-night meal. That was when I understood. This time, too, he would not come back for me. And I no longer wanted to wait. I opened my phone and bought a ticket to Sicily three days later. Moretti, goodbye.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

It was almost New Year. I had just withdrawn money from the bank when I noticed that the amount on my passbook didn't match the cash in my hand. I counted carefully—my passbook showed a different figure than the five thousand dollars I was holding. Frustrated, I turned and went back to the counter to find the teller who had handled my transaction. Clutching the receipt, I tried to be polite. "Excuse me, I think there might be a mistake with this transaction." Instantly, she snapped, pointing her finger at my nose. "Don't you know that once you leave the counter, we are not responsible for any discrepancies?" I waved my hands, trying to explain. "No, wait, look again. I clearly withdrew five thousand dollars, but on my passbook, it shows…" She cut me off impatiently. "When you filled out the form, it was all right there. Once you leave the counter, it's not our problem. You signed the form yourself, confirming everything. Are we supposed to correct it every time someone claims a mistake after leaving the bank?" I froze. No wonder she kept repeating that the bank isn't responsible after leaving the counter. She thought I had come back to ask for more money. What I was really trying to explain was simple: I withdrew five thousand, yet my passbook showed that I deposited five thousand.