Faithgotkay4life
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Faithgotkay4life's Book and Story
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The Price of Unrequited Love
Gavin Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley.
Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him.
That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!"
He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law."
Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart. My Rival, My Only Hope
Gavin On my birthday, my mother told me it was time to choose a fiancé from New York's most eligible bachelors. She urged me to pick Alexander Booth, the man I loved with a foolish passion in my previous life.
But I remembered how that love story ended. On the eve of our wedding, Alexander faked his death in a private jet crash.
I spent years as his grieving fiancée, only to find him alive and well on a beach, laughing with the poor student I had personally sponsored. They even had a child.
When I confronted him, our friends—the men who had pretended to comfort me—held me down.
They helped Alexander throw me into the ocean and watched from the pier as I drowned.
As the water closed over my head, only one person showed any real emotion. My childhood rival, Darrian Golden, screamed my name as they held him back, his face twisted in grief. He was the only one who cried at my funeral.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in our penthouse, just a week before the big decision. This time, when my mother asked me to choose Alexander, I gave her a different name. I chose the man who mourned me. I chose Darrian Golden. His Celebrity Mistress's Downfall
Gavin I gave up my twenty-billion-dollar inheritance and cut ties with my family, all for my boyfriend of five years, Ignatz.
But just as I was about to tell him I was pregnant with our child, he dropped a bombshell.
He needed me to take the fall for his childhood sweetheart, Everleigh. She'd been in a hit-and-run, and her career couldn't handle the scandal.
When I refused and told him about our baby, his face went cold. He told me to terminate the pregnancy immediately.
"Everleigh is the woman I love," he said. "Finding out you're pregnant with my child would destroy her."
He had his assistant schedule the appointment and sent me to the clinic alone. There, the nurse told me the procedure carried a high risk of permanent infertility.
He knew. And he still sent me.
I walked out of that clinic, choosing to keep my child. At that exact moment, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a glowing article announcing that Ignatz and Everleigh were expecting their first child, complete with a photo of his hand resting protectively on her stomach.
My world shattered. Wiping away a tear, I found the number I hadn't called in five years.
"Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm ready to come home." When Love Turns to Ash
Gavin My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises. His Promise, Her Prison
Gavin The day I was released from prison, my fiancé, Don Ford, was waiting for me, promising our life would finally begin.
Seven years ago, he and my parents begged me to take the fall for a crime my adopted sister, Kelsey, committed. She got behind the wheel drunk, hit someone, and fled the scene.
They said Kelsey was too fragile for prison. They called my seven-year sentence a small sacrifice.
But as soon as we arrived at the family mansion, Don’s phone rang. Kelsey was having another one of her “episodes,” and he left me standing alone in the grand foyer to rush to her side.
The butler then informed me I was to stay in the dusty storage room on the third floor. My parents’ orders. They didn't want me upsetting Kelsey when she returned.
It was always Kelsey. She was the reason they took my college scholarship fund, and she was the reason I lost seven years of my life. I was their biological daughter, but I was just a tool to be used and discarded.
That night, alone in that cramped room, a cheap phone a prison guard gave me buzzed with an email. It was a job offer for a classified position I had applied for eight years ago. It came with a new identity and an immediate relocation package. A way out.
I typed my reply with shaking fingers.
"I accept." From Betrayal to Bliss
Gavin The post went live at 8:00 PM, announcing my engagement to Ava Green, the woman I' d chased for three years.
My heart was full; our future, a perfect blueprint, finally felt real.
Then, her phone rang.
It was Ben Carter, her childhood friend, and the way she fled to the balcony, her face pale, sent a jolt of dread through me.
She returned to tell me Ben' s grandmother was dying and had one last wish: to see him settled with a fiancée.
He wanted Ava, my fiancée, to pretend to be his for a few days to grant a dying woman peace.
"A small lie?" I scoffed.
We were getting married in less than two months, and she was willing to fly across the country to play house with her ex-crush.
My carefully constructed world crumbled as she packed, ignoring my pleas, placing my brand-new engagement ring on the nightstand.
She walked out, leaving me in a deafening silence.
As I stared at the ring, a white-hot rage surged through me.
Three years, my devotion, all thrown away for a lie.
She chose him, manipulated by his family drama.
This wasn' t just about her; it was about proving something.
What if I showed her a man who was truly settled, with a fiancée?
I picked up my phone, scrolled to a name I hadn't thought of in years, and made a call.
"Chloe," I said, my voice strange.
"Are you busy on October 8th? Do you want to get married?" The Truth About His Mistress
Gavin I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch.
Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son."
My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional."
His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp.
Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family."
He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back."
The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized.
How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family?
But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified.
They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation.
They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear.
I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust. The Substitute Wife's Sweet Escape
Gavin For three years, I was a substitute for my twin sister, married to the powerful Donovan Blackwood. It was a contract. My payment for enduring his coldness was fifty million dollars and my freedom.
But my husband had a woman he truly loved, Chloe Sanders.
At her request, he pushed me into the freezing ocean.
When we both fell from a yacht, he screamed for the rescuers to save her first, leaving me to drown.
He even traded me to a torturer to get her back.
Through it all, I endured. Not for love, but for the money. He mistook my silence for devotion, my endurance for love.
He never realized that every cruel act didn't break my heart, it just ticked down the clock on my sentence.
Now, the contract is over. The fifty million dollars is in my account.
I left the wedding ring on his pillow and walked away without a backward glance.
I thought it was the end. But I underestimated his obsession. He's just now realizing the truth, and he's coming for me. He thinks he can apologize. He thinks he can get me back. When Love Dies: A Spy's Escape
Gavin "You will be declared dead, Gregoria." That's what Agent Christian told me. My life as an FBI agent was about to end, replaced by a ghost. No contact with my past, not even my husband, Darwin.
But then, a week before my staged death, I walked into our home office and saw it: Darwin's laptop, open, displaying a live video feed. My husband, shirtless, with his assistant, Elyssa Daniel. They were kissing. My world tilted.
I watched, frozen, as he kissed her. The sounds they made were obscene. I recognized the unique lines of his body, the watch I gave him for our anniversary. I stumbled back, my hand shaking as I reached for my phone. I had to confront this nightmare.
I hit the call button. On the screen, Darwin froze, then answered my call. "Hey, honey. What's up?" His voice, so normal, so full of lies, broke something inside me. The phone slipped from my grasp. My heart, my love, my entire world had been a lie.
I spent the night on the office floor, replaying the video. The evidence of his betrayal was a digital tombstone for our marriage. Each time I watched, disgust and pain grew. I looked at my wedding ring, a mark of my foolishness, and threw it across the room.
He thought I was weak, predictable. He thought I loved him so much I'd believe the sky was green. But the woman who loved Darwin Mcintosh died on that office floor. And in that moment, my mission, my fake death, felt like an escape. Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me
Gavin My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.