Amna_H
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From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress
Gavin My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child.
Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby.
To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner.
They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his.
The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused.
But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn. Too Late, My Mafia Heir Ex
Gavin My fiancé of seven years, the heir to a mafia dynasty, claimed amnesia three weeks before our wedding, forgetting only me. Then I overheard him laughing on a video call, calling it the perfect "hall pass" to sleep with an influencer before he was tied down.
He flaunted his affair, abandoned me with a broken arm after a staged car crash to save her from a scratch, and planned to leave me homeless. He called me his "property," a doll he could play with and put back on the shelf when he was done.
He thought I’d be waiting for his "miraculous recovery." Instead, I disappeared, leaving behind his ring and a simple note: "I remember everything. Me too." Fifteen Years, Then A Photo
Gavin For fifteen years, my husband Dustin and I were the fairytale. The high school sweethearts who made it, the tech CEO and his devoted wife. Our life was perfect.
Then a text message arrived from an unknown number. It was a picture of his assistant's hand on his thigh in the suit pants I bought him.
The texts from his mistress kept coming after that, a relentless barrage of poison. She sent photos of them in our bed and a video of him promising to leave me. She bragged that she was pregnant with his child.
He’d come home and kiss me, call me his anchor, all while smelling of her perfume. He was buying her a condo and planning their future while I pretended to have morning sickness from bad scallops.
The final straw came on my birthday. She sent a picture of him on one knee, giving her a diamond promise ring.
So I didn’t cry. I secretly changed my name to Hope, converted our entire fortune into untraceable bearer bonds, and told a charity to empty our house of everything.
The next day, as he headed to the airport for a "business trip" to Paris with her, I flew to Portugal. When he came home, he found an empty mansion, divorce papers, and our wedding rings melted into a single, shapeless lump of gold. The Silent Mate The Alpha Left to Die
Gavin My mother was in the hospital after a nasty dog bite, so I called my fiancé, Cohen. He was supposed to be my rock.
Instead, I got annoyance. He was in Aspen, on a ski trip with my best friend, Hillary.
“What do you want me to do? Fly back right now?” he snapped, before hanging up to get back to the “perfect snow.”
The dog, it turned out, was Hillary’s. The bite on my diabetic mother’s leg quickly developed into a raging infection. I texted Cohen an update, telling him she was getting worse, that they were talking about surgery.
He didn't call back. Instead, Hillary’s Instagram story updated: a photo of her and Cohen, cheeks flushed from the cold, smiling in front of a fireplace. The caption was a single heart emoji.
While they were sipping hot chocolate, my mother went into septic shock. As I sat alone in the grim hospital waiting room, staring at my silent phone, I knew he had already made his choice. He had chosen a vacation. He had chosen my best friend. He had left my mother to die all alone.
She passed away at 3:17 AM. I held her hand until it grew cold, then walked out into the gray dawn. I wasn't just grieving. I was done. I was going to erase myself from his world and burn everything to the ground. Reborn For His Savage Love
Gavin On my wedding day, the giant screen in the ballroom was supposed to show a romantic video of my fiancé and me.
Instead, it played a sordid deepfake video of me with another man.
My fiancé, the celebrated tech mogul Edward Ford, pointed at me in front of New York’s high society.
“Amelia Stone, you are a disgrace.”
My own father then stepped forward, not to defend me, but to condemn me. He publicly disowned me, announcing he had another, kinder daughter who would take my rightful place.
He gestured to the side, and my illegitimate half-sister, Dara Chase, stepped out, looking innocent and fragile.
Betrayed by the two men I loved most, I fled the ballroom in shame. As I ran into the street, a car hit me with horrific force.
As I died, I floated above my own broken body. I watched as Edward and Dara embraced, their mission accomplished. But then I saw him. Josiah Craft, a guest at the wedding, fell to his knees beside me, his face crumbling into raw, animalistic grief.
I opened my eyes again. I was back in my penthouse, just days before the wedding that was supposed to be my end. Beyond His Billion Dollar Regret
Gavin My fiancé, Arthur Mckay, had just beaten leukemia. A bone marrow transplant saved his life, and we were supposed to be planning our engagement party, celebrating our future.
Then she walked in. Diana, the donor's beautiful, fragile ex-girlfriend. Arthur became obsessed, claiming he had "cellular memory" and that the donor's cells were compelling him to protect her.
He postponed our wedding plans for her. He let her invade our home, touching my art, sleeping in my robe. He called me possessive and cruel when I protested. The man who once promised to cherish me was gone, replaced by a stranger who used a medical procedure as an excuse for his cruelty.
The final straw was my mother's locket, the only thing I had left of her. Diana saw it and decided she wanted it, weeping that her dead boyfriend had owned one just like it.
When I refused, Arthur's face hardened. "Don't be a child," he ordered. "Give it to her."
He didn't wait for my answer. He strode forward and ripped the chain from my neck, the metal stinging my skin.
He fastened my mother's locket around Diana's throat. "This is a punishment, Ella," he said calmly. "Maybe now you'll learn some compassion."
As he wrapped a protective arm around her and led her away, I knew the man I loved was truly dead. I picked up my phone, my decision made.
"Dad," I said, my voice steady. "I'm coming home." Erased By His Lies And Love
Gavin For ten years, I gave my husband, Desmond, everything. I worked three jobs so he could get his MBA and sold my grandmother' s locket to fund his startup. Now, on the verge of his company's IPO, he was forcing me to sign divorce papers for the seventeenth time, calling it a "temporary business move."
Then I saw him on TV, his arm wrapped around another woman-his lead investor, Aurora Quinn. He called her the love of his life, thanking her for "believing in him when no one else did," erasing my entire existence with a single sentence.
His cruelty didn't stop there. He denied knowing me after his bodyguards beat me unconscious at a mall. He locked me in a dark basement, fully aware of my crippling claustrophobia, leaving me to have a panic attack alone.
But the final blow came during a kidnapping. When the attacker told him he could only save one of us-me or Aurora-Desmond didn't hesitate.
He chose her. He left me tied to a chair to be tortured while he saved his precious deal. Lying in a hospital bed for the second time, broken and abandoned, I finally made a call I hadn't made in five years.
"Aunt Evelena," I choked out, "can I come stay with you?"
The reply from the most feared lawyer in New York was instant. "Of course, darling. My private jet is on standby. And Ariel? Whatever it is, we'll handle it." 
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