3 Book(s) Related to Thought

One poor man had acquired an extraordinary system of thought. From then on, his wish was fulfilled, and he rose to his golden peak!

Famous University President: These are the most talented students I have ever met!

An executive: Whoever gets him will be able to control the next 10 years of competition!

Chairman of a certain group: If he is willing to work, will give him half shares at once!

Let's see how a boy from that poor class can reach the top of the world step by step!

I and Gavin had known each other for four years, been together for two. We were about to get married. But we had this huge fight when I was trying on my wedding dress, so he went out to sea to clear his head. Unexpectedly, he was caught in a maritime accident and his body was never found. I was heartbroken and couldn't believe the truth.

Until I heard Diego and Luis talking in Portuguese. They were Gavin's business partners.

"Cara, olha como ela chora." Diego's voice drifted over. "Me sinto mal por ela. Quando o Gavin vai voltar e dizer que está vivo?"

My breath caught. Every muscle froze.

Look how she's crying. I feel bad for her. When is Gavin coming back to say he's alive?

"Cuidado, não é bom falar disso aqui," Luis warned nervously.

"Relaxa, ela não entende português."

Relax, she doesn't understand Portuguese.

But I did. I understood every fucking word.

My grandmother was from Lisbon. I've spoken Portuguese since I was five. And these idiots just told me: my fiancé faked his death.

I used to create perfect weddings for other people, always dreaming that someday I'd plan my own. As Toronto's most sought-after wedding planner, I had it all mapped out—the venue, the flowers, the dress I'd been saving for since I was twenty-five.
Then I came home early from a client meeting and found my fiancé Philippe in our bed with his paralegal. The fight that followed was ugly—screaming, accusations, him telling me I was "obsessed with babies" and "suffocating." When I threw his ring at him and told him to get out, I didn't know the stress had triggered something devastating.
The miscarriage happened that night. The complications were worse—internal bleeding, emergency surgery, a doctor gently explaining that my chances of ever conceiving again were less than two percent. Philippe filed for divorce while I was still in the hospital.
I took the settlement money and bought a small diner in rural Quebec, telling myself I was starting fresh. For five years, I focused on work and avoided anything that reminded me of the family I'd never have. No dating, no relationships, no hope of ever holding my own child.
Until a hungry twelve-year-old boy appeared outside my diner in the snow, counting coins in his palm.