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Gavin

Gavin's Books(37)

Proposal Night, Reality Shattered

Proposal Night, Reality Shattered

Short stories
5.0
Ethan Hayes, a Manhattan billionaire, meticulously adjusted his silk tie before the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse. For four years, he’d poured his wealth into Maya Rodriguez, funding her lavish life, her family’s endless medical bills, and her brother's elite schooling. He saw her as the living echo of Olivia, his beloved fiancée tragically lost years ago, and tonight, he planned to propose. But hidden by a structural support on a windswept rooftop, he overheard a conversation that tore his carefully curated reality apart. Maya, her family, and her childhood friend Leo Maxwell. “You can’t marry him, Maya. He stole you,” Leo sobbed, his voice cracking. “If you go through with this, I’ll jump!” To Ethan's horror, Maya whispered, "Okay, Leo. I'll leave Ethan at the altar. We'll run away." The illusion, meticulously constructed over four years, shattered into a million pieces. He wasn't just a benefactor; he was a pawn, a source of endless funds, destined for public humiliation. Maya was not only using him but callously planning to jilt him, her family complicit in the cruel charade. A strange, cold calm settled over him, replacing the crushing weight of betrayal. How could he have been so blind, so desperate to resuscitate a ghost, that he fell for such a calculated deception? The woman he'd placed on a pedestal was nothing but a manipulative fraud, willing to exploit his grief. He turned and walked away unseen, pulling out his phone. The wedding, Maya, his entire life in New York – it was all over. He was leaving. He was done chasing echoes; it was time to finally build a life that was truly his own.
My Contract, Her True Love

My Contract, Her True Love

Short stories
5.0
Ethan Prescott, a billionaire haunted by a dark premonition, meticulously staged his own death. His lavish life—the Hamptons galas, the cold but perfect Izzy Rossi on his arm—was a facade he was ready to shatter, scheduled to end in a tragic "sailing accident." This wasn't madness; it was survival. Six months prior, a polo accident revealed a terrifying "script": Izzy, his contractual companion, would find happiness with Liam Vance, while he, Ethan, spiraled into a fiery, fatal car crash. To defy this cruel destiny, Ethan embraced the role of villain. He pushed Izzy away with calculated cruelty, even orchestrating encounters that forced her into Liam's arms. He watched, an agonizing observer, as his cold persona alienated her, convinced her freedom lay in his self-destruction. Why was he forced to sacrifice everything for her happiness? The injustice burned, even as he adhered to the horrifying prophecy. He was a puppet with unseen strings, his fate predetermined. He believed his faked death had finally freed him, rebuilding a quiet life as Miles Corbin. But five years later, Izzy Rossi walked into his bookstore. She knew. She had uncovered his elaborate lie, not to expose him, but to confess the love he’d forced himself to bury. Her shocking revelation: *she also felt the script’s control*. His rebellion had merely dragged them both into a larger, more perilous battle—a fight for love and freedom against the unseen Narrator controlling their lives.
My Brother, My Captor

My Brother, My Captor

Short stories
5.0
My parents died in Hurricane Antoine, and my brother Liam lost the use of his legs saving me. Or so I believed. For years, I slaved under the Louisiana sun, ignoring my own pain, funneling every cent into his supposed care. Then, strange, glowing texts flickered into my vision, revealing a horrifying truth: “She has no idea the 'medical bills' are just his entry fees for the swamp boat races.” My world shattered when I confronted Liam, not a cripple, but agile and triumphant, kissing Chloe Dubois – the woman who called herself his "friend." His cruel laughter echoed as he revealed his "disability" was a lie, blaming me for our parents’ deaths with chilling precision. They saw my years of sacrifice as a joke, a twisted game. When I tried to escape, he sabotaged me, leaving me homeless and attacking the kind professor who offered me aid. How could the brother who once protected me harbor such profound hatred? Was my entire life a cruel charade, meticulously scripted by Chloe to cast me as "cannon fodder" in their twisted love story? The suffocating weight of this predetermined fate pushed me to the brink. Yet, a profound choice loomed. Liam, facing death, finally deciphered Chloe’s insidious manipulations, revealing the true narrative of our lives. In a desperate, final act, he accepted his fate, sacrificing himself to shatter her cruel script and erase my agonizing memories. His sacrifice gifted me peace and a new beginning, leaving only a lingering, blurred sense of a love that defied all odds.
The Day My Fairytale Died

The Day My Fairytale Died

Short stories
5.0
My life with Ethan Hayes was a true New York fairytale. He was devastatingly handsome, a brilliant tech CEO, and our engagement was the stuff of lifestyle blogs and glittering society columns. I poured my heart into our eight years together, building a perfect future, a "Golden Couple" image people envied. Until I found the texts: "Can't wait until she's out of the picture for good. You promised." And then the photos, the eggplant emoji, the casual cruelty of a Cartier bracelet – "one-of-a-kind," he'd said – glinting on *her* wrist, identical to mine. Chloe Vance, an old college acquaintance, was his secret "escape," his "excitement." Not just a fling, but a long-term, calculated betrayal. He lavished gifts on me, charming me even as he publicly defended her, dismissing my concerns. He even gave his pregnant mistress his family heirloom, the one he swore was meant only for me. My birthday ended with him ditching me for her manufactured crisis, only for me to receive a photo of Chloe's pregnancy report. Eight years. A lifetime of promises. All built on his lies. How could someone be so utterly, flawlessly deceptive? My love for him turned to ice, replaced by a searing ache of betrayal and a cold, quiet rage. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't scream. I pressed call on Liam Walker's name, a man from a past I’d left behind, and uttered four words that would change everything: "Marry me, Liam." It was time for a reckoning. And I knew just how to deliver it.
The Wife Who Forgot

The Wife Who Forgot

Short stories
5.0
Michael Johnson was a man once deeply in love, his world illuminated by his brilliant wife, Sarah, and their cherished young son, Leo. Then came the car accident: Sarah survived physically, but a brutal head injury stole her memories, erasing me completely from her mind. In the vacuum of her confusion, a smirking opportunist, Ethan Cole, slithered in, whispering insidious lies and painting himself as her true, destined love. Overnight, I became a phantom in my own home, a "leech" and an "obstacle" in her eyes, while she wholeheartedly believed every fabricated story Ethan spun. The world I knew crumbled as I endured her chilling indifference, public humiliations, and Ethan's constant psychological torment. The ultimate blow came when she casually suggested I should have died in the crash, then, shockingly, tried to force me into a life-threatening organ donation for Ethan’s brother, treating my body as a transactional asset. My heart, once full of fierce love, was utterly shattered, replaced by a suffocating despair. How could the woman who swore eternal devotion, who had once been my everything, become this cold, cruel stranger, utterly dismissive of me and our own child? The injustice burned, leaving me broken, betrayed, and terrifyingly alone. With no hope left, and consumed by the primal need to protect my son Leo, I made a final, desperate choice. I contacted Mr. Smith, the man who orchestrates "fresh start initiatives," not "death stagings." I would stage my own disappearance, become Mark Reynolds, and vanish into a new life, leaving Michael Johnson and the ruins of my past behind forever.
The Day I Vanished

The Day I Vanished

Short stories
5.0
The doctor's words sealed Amelia Hayes's fate: aggressive, stage four ovarian cancer. Consumed by overwhelming guilt for her best friend Liv's tragic death years ago, Amy numbly embraced the diagnosis as a deserved end, refusing treatment and signing away her organs. Her penance wasn't over; Liv's grief-stricken brother, Ethan Carter, who viciously blamed Amy for his sister's demise, still dictated her every move. He meticulously orchestrated her public humiliation, forcing her into back-breaking tasks and enduring his cruel fiancée's sadistic games, watching Amy weaken, every ounce of suffering a grim reminder of Liv's absence. Amy accepted every degrading act, every physical pain, enduring it all as a desperate attempt to atone for her relentless survivor's guilt. Yet, even as her body failed, the gnawing question lingered: was her self-destruction truly a sacrifice for Liv, or simply a prolonged, theatrical torment orchestrated by Ethan for his own twisted closure? Finally, broken and desperate, Amy sought ultimate release, calling 911 from atop the George Washington Bridge, her final wish to donate her organs to give life even as hers ended. But a secret ally pulled her back from the brink, allowing her to fake her own death and forge a new identity, unaware that her "demise" would drive Ethan, consumed by his own guilt and pain, to the verge of madness, setting the stage for an explosive, unforeseen reunion years later that would challenge everything they believed about love, hate, and forgiveness.
The Truth About His Mistress

The Truth About His Mistress

Short stories
5.0
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.
Her Love, My Transaction

Her Love, My Transaction

Short stories
5.0
At twenty-two, an MIT scholarship paved my road to becoming an architect, building a future I could almost touch. But life had other plans, suddenly derailed by a devastating call: Maya, my kid sister, was diagnosed with aggressive leukemia. The medical bills were astronomical, an impossible weight on my already broken family. My father, crushed by his own demons, offered a desperate lifeline: a "favor" from the powerful Jonathan Hayes. It wasn't charity; it was a dark bargain. My freedom, my dreams, my very self, traded for Maya's life. I became Scarlett Hayes’ personal assistant – her shadow, her keeper, her disposable "toy." For five soul-crushing years, I endured her every capricious whim, her tantrums, and her casual, dehumanizing ownership of my time, my body, my dignity. She never asked; she simply took. And I, trapped, let her. Each forced compliance fueled a festering resentment, a cold, hard knot of self-loathing in my gut. My life, my aspirations, melted like ash, yet I persisted, for Maya. How had I, Liam Walker, destined for blueprints and ambition, become this hollow phantom, a silent fixture in a gilded cage? How had my world twisted into this soulless transaction, my very being reduced to a commodity? The humiliation was suffocating, the injustice a constant scream within me. Was I truly beyond redemption, or could I ever escape this nightmare? Then, the news that shifted my universe: Maya was in remission. The immediate burden lifted, and in that exhale of relief, the years of festering rage, the profound self-disgust, and the silent compliance hardened into an unyielding resolve. I was done being her plaything. Liam Walker was taking his life back, no matter the cost.
Waking Up to Her True Face

Waking Up to Her True Face

Short stories
5.0
Ethan Miller, a Seattle software architect, woke in a cold sweat, his heart hammering. His wife, Olivia, slept peacefully beside him, unaware. The calendar showed it was ten years earlier, their first year of marriage, but he’d just lived through a terrifying premonition: Olivia, supposedly dead for two years, reappeared in an Alaskan lodge with another man, Liam, confessed a harrowing regret, then died again. The dream's raw pain and phantom ache of betrayal clung to him, chilling his once-normal mornings. Soon, the nightmare began to bleed into his present. Olivia's late nights grew more frequent, her phone calls hushed. He caught glimpses of a new, unfamiliar perfume. Then, the undeniable truth: witnessing her outside an upscale restaurant, laughing intimately with a young man, Liam Vance, his heart-stoppingly familiar face mirroring the one in his dream. A small park rendezvous sealed it—a public, passionate kiss, Liam’s smug gaze, Olivia captivated. The illusion of his loving wife shattered with sickening finality. But the worst was yet to come. Hiding in plain sight, Ethan overheard Olivia giddily discussing Liam, dismissing him as "boring," and chillingly, casually discussing his life insurance policy. "Enough to start fresh, really fresh." His blood ran cold. The woman he had adored, trusted implicitly, was gone, replaced by a calculating stranger. All he felt was a profound, wrenching injustice, a searing bewilderment. He was a fool. But Olivia’s contempt and calculated cruelty would not go unpunished. No longer a naive, trusting fool, Ethan, armed with this terrifying future knowledge, made a quiet, chilling decision. He picked up his phone, his fingers trembling, and called his shrewd Aunt Carol in London. It was time to orchestrate his own disappearance, to rewrite his destiny.
Weeks After the Funeral, My Wife Was Hers

Weeks After the Funeral, My Wife Was Hers

Short stories
5.0
As a Chicago firefighter, my world was built on duty, courage, and the unwavering love for my wife, Clara, another hero on the force. Then the call came: a warehouse collapse, my sister-in-law Ava’s unit, no survivors, and later, Clara’s gear found near a burned body, presumed dead, annihilating my soul. But weeks later, reeling from grief, I stumbled upon a horrific truth: Clara, undeniably alive, was meticulously impersonating her deceased twin, living with Ava’s husband, Mark, in a sickening charade. My world didn't just tilt; it shattered, as I watched my presumed-dead wife publicly embrace her new life, even carrying another man's baby, all while casting me as the unstable widower. Every interaction was a fresh wound: her choice to save Mark instead of me during my anaphylaxis, her vile accusation that I’d supplied Mark’s overdose, and her constant, suffocating attempts to maintain control. I became a ghost haunting their stolen domestic bliss, an unwilling audience to the monstrous lie built on my shattered life. How could the woman who vowed 'til death do us part, betray me with such calculating cruelty, erasing our shared history to live as another woman’s wife, with another man? The clean grief I once felt transformed into a venomous, all-consuming rage, a betrayal so profound it stole my sanity. Was every laugh, every tender moment, a lie? With every piece of my soul screaming for escape, I decided then: I would leave Chicago, abandoning the ashes of my old life to seek a new beginning, far away from this living hell disguised as a family.