Gavin
2938 Published Stories
Gavin's Books and Stories
When Love Turns to Ash
Short stories 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. The Price of Unrequited Love
Short stories 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. Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me
Short stories 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. Poisoned Love, Bitter Justice
Short stories My mother, a nurse who spent forty years caring for others, was poisoned and left for dead after a charity gala. The woman responsible, Keyla Dixon, stood in court, a mask of tearful innocence, claiming self-defense.
The real horror? My husband, Garrison Gardner, the city's top lawyer, was defending Keyla. He tore my mother's reputation apart, twisting the truth until the jury believed Keyla was the victim.
The verdict came swiftly: "Not guilty." Keyla hugged Garrison, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face. That night, in our cold mansion, I confronted him. "How could you?" I choked out. He calmly replied, "It was my job. Keyla is a very important client."
When I screamed that she tried to kill my mother, he threatened to use my mother's sealed medical records, her history of depression, to paint her as unstable and suicidal. He was willing to destroy her memory to protect his client and his career.
I was trapped, humiliated, and heartbroken. He had sacrificed my mother for his ambition, and now he was trying to erase me. But as I signed the divorce papers he had prepared, a wild, desperate plan began to form. If they wanted me gone, I would disappear. And then, I would make them pay. From Death to Divorce: Her Rebirth
Short stories A sharp pain shot through my head, pulling me from a deep darkness. I opened my eyes to my luxury penthouse, but I shouldn't have been there. I remembered dying.
The memory was cold and sharp: my protégé, Dustin, sold me out, and my husband, Graves, watched our company crumble, leading to my fatal heart attack.
Then, Graves appeared, his charming, empty smile unchanged. But he wasn't alone. A young woman, Alex Salazar, stood behind him, clutching her cheap handbag. Graves introduced her as an intern, saying she had nowhere to stay and would be living with us. My eyes fell to her neck, where a dark hickey was partially hidden.
The date on the nightstand confirmed it: I had traveled back in time to the exact day Graves brought Alex home in my previous life, the beginning of my long, painful nightmare. Last time, I had screamed and thrown things, starting my humiliation.
A strange calm washed over me. I had been given a second chance, not to win him back, but to escape.
"Of course," I said, my voice even, "The poor thing. We should take care of her." Graves looked surprised, then relieved. He thought he had won. "In fact," I continued, pulling out divorce papers, "I'll make sure she's comfortable. You just have one small thing to do for me." I wanted the Malibu property. "Give me that, and I'll walk away quietly. You can have your new life. You can take care of this... orphan." Discarded Love, Found Happiness
Short stories I stood just outside the glass patio doors, holding a tray of fresh towels. Tonight was a celebration of Coleton Barron' s full recovery, the tech world' s golden boy back on his feet after three years of my dedicated physical therapy.
But then, his ex-girlfriend, Charly Mack, appeared. When a stray splash from the pool hit her dress, Coleton shoved me aside to protect her, sending me headfirst into the concrete edge of the pool.
I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, only to see Coleton comforting Charly, who was faking tears. He didn' t defend me when she claimed we were "just friends." His mother, Esther Cotton, then sent me a text with a five-million-dollar check, telling me I didn' t fit into his world.
Back at his penthouse, Charly accused me of poisoning Coleton with soup and breaking his father' s cherished wooden box. He believed her, forcing me to drink the soup and leaving me to collapse on the kitchen floor. I ended up in the hospital again, alone.
I didn' t understand why he would believe her lies, why he would hurt me after everything I had done. Why was I just a temporary fix, easily discarded?
On his birthday, I left him a text: "Happy Birthday, Coleton. I' m leaving. Don' t look for me. Goodbye." I turned off my phone, dropped it in a trash can, and walked toward a new life. The Monster I Once Loved
Short stories I was just a struggling artist in Brooklyn, and he was the amnesiac I found beaten in an alley – just "Alex."
We fell deeply in love, building a life on whispered dreams and cheap coffee, a bond that felt truly unbreakable.
But then his memory returned, and my gentle Alex vanished, replaced by Alexander Sterling III, a cold, ruthless heir.
He discarded me like trash, his mother paid me off to disappear, and his cruel world, with his chillingly silent consent, shattered my artist's hand.
I watched the man I loved stand by as they destroyed me, wondering how a heart could turn so utterly indifferent.
Broken but not defeated, I used the 'hush money' to rebuild myself in Paris, emerging five years later as a renowned sculptor, alongside a man who truly cherished me.
My renewed happiness, however, ignited a terrifying obsession in Alex, unleashing a horrifying wave of vengeance on everyone he perceived to have wronged me-or so he twistedly claimed.
He thought this brutal "justice" would finally win me back, but all it revealed was the true, monstrous stranger the man I loved had become. Five Years' Love, Shattered by a Call
Romance My wedding to Ethan, the man I’d loved for five years, was weeks away.
Everything was set for our future, a beautifully planned life together.
Then the call came: Ethan’s high school sweetheart, Chloe, was found with severe amnesia, still believing she was his girlfriend.
Ethan postponed our wedding, asked me to pretend to be his brother Liam’s girlfriend, insisting it was "for Chloe’s sake."
I endured quiet agony watching him relive their past, his every loving gesture now for her.
Chloe’s Instagram became a public shrine to their "rekindled" love, #TrueLove emblazoned everywhere.
I even found a groundbreaking clinic for Chloe, hoping for an end, but Ethan brushed it off.
Then, I overheard him: I was just a "placeholder," a "good sport" who would wait, because I had "nowhere else to go."
Five years of my life, my love, my loyalty, reduced to a disposable convenience.
The cold, calculated betrayal punched the air from my lungs.
He thought I was trapped, that he could use me at will, then return to me, expecting gratitude.
Numb, I stumbled.
And then, I met Liam, Ethan’s quiet brother.
"I need to get married, Liam. To someone. Soon." The words escaped me.
Liam, who had watched silently, responded: "What if I said I'd marry you, Ava? For real."
A dangerous, desperate plan ignited within me, fueled by pain and a fierce desire for reckoning.
"Alright, Liam," I declared, a new resolve hardening my voice.
"But I have conditions: Ethan must be your Best Man, and he must give me away at the altar."
The charade was about to begin, but now, it was on my terms.
And Ethan had no idea the bride was truly me. His Promise, Her Prison
Short stories 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." When Love Died, Freedom Began
Short stories The jagged glass bit into Amelia Hayes' s cheek.
"Help me," she choked into the phone, but her husband, Ethan Caldwell, snapped: "Amelia, for God' s sake, I' m in a meeting."
A sharp blow, then darkness.
She awoke not in her blood-slicked car, but in her opulent master bedroom, the calendar marking three months after her wedding. Three months into a marriage that had already begun to kill her.
Ethan stood by the window, his voice softening, "Yes, Jessica, tonight sounds perfect." Jessica Thorne, his true love, the shadow over Amelia' s first life. The familiar ache in Amelia' s chest gave way to a chilling, new fury.
For seven miserable years, she had given Ethan desperate, unyielding devotion.
She endured his coldness, his brazen affairs, his emotional abuse, all for a flicker of his attention.
She had become a shell, a caricature, ridiculed by Ethan' s circle and condescended to by his family.
The profound injustice, the sheer blindness of his indifference, was a bitter pill. Her heart, once broken, now felt nothing but a hollow echo of unrequited love.
Then, at a gala, a cruel act involving Eleanor' s ashes, and Ethan, without hesitation, shoved Amelia, his accusations echoing: "You are a disgrace."
He comforted Jessica while Amelia' s head reeled from the impact. That was the final straw.
No tears, no anger. Just a cold resolve. She delivered a small velvet box to his penthouse. Inside: the wedding ring and a divorce decree.
"I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life. Forever," she stated, her voice clear. She was reborn to be free. A Husband's Betrayal, A Wife's Reckoning
Short stories My Hamptons dream life with Ethan, my rising star finance husband, shattered when masked men invaded our home, leaving me pregnant and terrified.
A month later, my husband’s “fragile” childhood friend, Izzy Vance, suddenly announced her own pregnancy, suspiciously close in timing.
Then came Ethan’s devastating public lie: he claimed Izzy’s baby was his, letting the world believe my child was conceived during the home invasion. My “ordeal baby” became tabloid fodder, and my world imploded.
The man I loved had thrown me to the wolves, prioritizing Izzy’s fabricated image above my real trauma.
He dismissed my pain, my forced abortion, and even my head injury, leaving me bleeding on the street while he rushed to Izzy’s side after a staged accident.
He forced me to donate blood even after my own procedure, and used my public humiliation at a gala to solidify his own hero narrative.
Every interaction became a new cut, cementing my role as the villain in his carefully crafted play.
How could Ethan be so unbelievably blind?
So utterly complicit in my destruction?
The man who promised to protect me had become my greatest betrayer, leaving me broken, grieving, and utterly alone.
But his unwavering faith in Izzy's insidious lies, culminating in her fake accusation of me attacking a pregnant woman, didn't break me. It ignited a cold, steel resolve.
They wanted a lavish baby shower? Oh, I’d bring a gift – a secret that would not only expose their entire charade but detonate their perfect world, ensuring a spectacular downfall for all involved. It was time for my quiet, lethal revenge. His Ex, My Hell
Short stories For five years, I was Mrs. Davenport, cleaning up after my husband's one-night stands and enduring his casual cruelty.
Call it a gilded cage, but this mansion was my prison, bought by my sacrifice: I was the secret medical lifeline keeping him, Ethan Davenport, alive.
Our cruel contract was nearing its end, just three months left.
Then, Chloe, his perfect ex-girlfriend, waltzed back in.
Her arrival wasn't a gentle reunion; it was a wrecking ball designed to finish what Ethan's neglect had started.
She smeared my name, orchestrated a public humiliation, and then watched, smiling, as Ethan, fueled by rage and alcohol, dragged me to a damp, cold cellar.
He tore apart my most sacred possession-my fiancé's diary-then brutally killed my loyal dog, Buddy, right before my eyes.
As I bled, collapsing into unconsciousness, I heard his ex's venomous whisper: she'd had all my precious memories of him incinerated.
They had taken everything.
My dignity, my love, my last connection to a life I cherished.
My heart was a hollowed-out space, suffocating under a mountain of grief and betrayal.
How could a human being be so cruel, so blind, to the sacrifices I'd made to keep him alive?
But on the day our notorious contract officially expired, I walked out.
With nothing but the clothes on my back and a one-way ticket to a remote Pacific Northwest retreat, I finally chose myself.
It was time to disappear, to burn away the past, and somehow, exist again. Reborn, He Still Hated Me
Short stories I was Eleanor Baker, the architect who built the Harrington empire from the ground up, designed their iconic skyscrapers, and was destined to marry the heir, James.
Then, on my 65th birthday, James dropped the bomb: he was changing his will, honoring his long-dead first love, Olivia. My life's work, my shares, everything was gone. The betrayal *killed* me.
Only, I opened my eyes in the past. James was there, reborn too, his gaze already holding the cold disgust that would define our future. He still wanted Olivia, who was now alive. So I walked away, giving up everything, only to be ambushed by the press, publicly humiliated, and left bleeding on the street, my heart and my legacy shattered.
How could a lifetime of devotion and building be erased in an instant? Could the man I once loved possibly be so cruel, even in a second chance at life? Was I destined to be nothing more than a discarded architect, overshadowed by a ghost?
But just as I thought it was over, a stranger offered a chance. A visionary project, a new beginning, a path to reclaim my talent and build a future far beyond anything I'd ever imagined. This time, I'm building for myself. The Saint and The Monster: A Husband's Double Life
Short stories I thought I had it all. A brilliant tech genius husband, Ethan Caldwell, a New York penthouse, and a baby on the way. My life felt like a perfect dream.
Then Ethan announced a "catastrophic business failure," plunging us into poverty in a cramped Queens apartment. Five years later, working a Gala, I saw him again. A celebrated "miracle benefactor," he presented the very diamond bracelet he'd promised me to Victoria Vanderbilt—the woman he'd secretly always loved.
All my sacrifices, Leo's quiet deprivations—they were an elaborate lie. He'd been building an empire for *her*. The betrayal escalated: Ethan demanded Leo be a kidney donor for Victoria's son. Later, Victoria orchestrated a kidnapping, and Ethan, dismissing my desperate pleas, coldly told the abductors to "teach me a lesson" and hung up.
How could the man I loved, Leo's father, be such a monstrous, heartless betrayer? His casual disregard for our very lives, his ultimate abandonment during our terror, left me shattered. Was our entire marriage truly just a cruel, convenient sham for him?
Watching my son suffer due to his father's depravity, something inside me ignited. Not broken, but fiercely resolved. I would escape his toxic world, protect Leo, and build a real, peaceful life for us, whatever it took. We were leaving. For good. Second Love on Snow Mountain
Short stories The hum of the projector was a victory song, my architectural proposal a masterpiece, and the biggest deal of my life was firmly in my grasp.
Then, the screen flickered, and my home security feed astonishingly replaced my presentation, broadcasting my husband Liam, in his meditation room, hands caressing another woman.
The boardroom went from buzzing with ambition to a suffocating silence, every corporate shark' s eyes boring into me as my perfectly crafted life shattered.
I didn't flinch, my professional calm a mask over the searing pain of betrayal, as I coolly ended the meeting, securing the contract with a hand that barely trembled.
But once in my car, my first call wasn\'t to Liam; it was to my lawyer, a swift command issuing from my lips: "Start the application for my permanent residency in Switzerland. Immediately." The Unwanted Fiancée's Sweet Escape
Short stories My eyes snapped open in the blinding hospital light.
A nurse murmured the date: July 15th, 2013.
The number slammed into me.
It couldn't be.
That was ten years ago.
Ten years before the crash that supposedly just happened.
Ten years before I, Sarah Miller, endured a decade of quiet suffocation married to Ethan Hayes.
In my real recent past, just before the crash, I'd discovered gut-wrenching betrayal: Ethan and Olivia Cartwright, his high-school flame, renewed vows in secret.
While I was still his wife.
The misery, the constant, gnawing neglect, Ethan's emotional energy poured into Olivia like water into sand—it all came rushing back.
He had lived a double life, building a separate future with another woman while married to me.
My spirit, a withered thing, had accepted it.
Now, I was back.
Before the suffering, before the constant, soul-crushing betrayal.
A cruel irony: my alleged accident had sent me backward in time, to before the misery even began.
The quiet misery was a screaming void.
I just relived it, and realized I was about to restart it.
But not this time.
This was it.
My second chance.
Ethan could have Olivia.
He could have her from the start.
Sarah Miller was not walking that path again.
I was going to orchestrate their "happiness" and secure my own escape into a real life. The Truth About His Mistress
Short stories 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. Stepsister's Scorn, Lover's Lie
Short stories At the elite Auer Conservatory gala, I, Ava Davies, a scholarship violinist, finally felt I belonged, especially with my powerful trustee boyfriend, Ethan Montgomery, effortlessly by my side.
But then, the grand screen, meant for donor names, flickered to life, displaying a deeply intimate video of me—a bedroom scene—for all of New York's elite to see, hijacking my deepest humiliation for public consumption.
As gasps turned to cruel whispers and mocking laughter, and my world crumbled, Ethan, my supposed anchor, vanished, only for me to find him moments later, gloating with my stepsister, Seraphina, admitting our entire relationship was an "amusing diversion" to orchestrate my ruin.
Betrayed by the man I loved, herded like an animal, I was then dragged into a dark alley by his friends, enduring unimaginable torture: chili oil burned my throat, flashes captured my terror, and a searing hot iron branded my shoulder, all for the public's entertainment, sanctioned by Ethan who later, chillingly, instructed kidnappers to "dispose of me."
Why had he, the man who once championed me, orchestrated such monstrous cruelty, leaving me broken and branded, desiring my very eradication—what dark secret propelled this twisted vengeance, and could I ever escape his terrifying obsession?
This raw, agonizing betrayal transformed me: I would not just survive, I would disappear from his world, on my own terms, turning my back on the ruin he created to forge a future where I, Ava, would finally be free. The Mute Muse's Revenge
Short stories For nine years, I lived as a ghost, tethered to Ethan Blackwood.
The art world knew me as "A.N.", the mute artist madly in love with the city's most renowned and arrogant art critic, a story they all enjoyed.
They didn't know the truth: nine years ago, my younger sister Lily was dying, and desperation led me to the mysterious Muse System.
The price for her life? My voice and identity, transforming me into Ethan' s dedicated muse, his silent shadow.
I endured his daily humiliation, his condescending words, and his blatant preference for Vivienne, his "white moonlight," while I mimicked her style, sinking into debt.
Tonight was our seventh anniversary, also my 28th birthday, but he never came home, the special meal growing cold as the clock ticked past midnight.
He finally stumbled in at 2 AM, reeking of alcohol, saw my absence, and woke me with a snarled command: "Draw my bath."
My bare feet slipped on a stray drop of water, sending a searing pain through my leg as I fell hard on the marble floor, but he just watched with pure indifference.
Then his phone chimed, his voice instantly softening, humming a happy tune as he spoke to Vivienne, admiring a sculpture he' d bought her-a fortune spent while I bled myself dry for his approval.
That night, my own sister, Lily, called, shrill with accusation: "Vivienne is so upset! Ethan belongs with her! You need to divorce him and disappear!"
Days later, my grandmother assaulted me at a family dinner, shoving me until my head met a sharp table corner, a flash of white pain and then darkness.
I awoke in a hospital, my mother dismissing my concussion as "drama," and my grandmother asking the doctor, with strange hope, "Is she going to die?"
Vivienne visited, placing lilies to trigger my allergy, then feigning a cut to get Ethan' s attention, successfully turning his rage on me.
He dragged me from the bed, forcing me to my knees before her, demanding an apology I couldn' t give, leaving me there, alone and humiliated.
The next blow came from Vivienne again, a "calculated" trip that sent scalding coffee all over me, leaving me crumpled on the floor with second-degree burns while Ethan checked on her, blaming me for the mess.
No one helped me, not him, not the servants, as my heart, a dead, calm sea, felt nothing but resignation.
The Muse System finally alerted me to the severe toll the mission had taken: a terminal diagnosis with only a month to live.
Ethan, completely oblivious, brought Vivienne to an obstetrics clinic, where she brandished a sonogram: "It' s yours, Ethan. We're going to be a family."
I learned then everything I had sacrificed for was a lie, and there was no longer any turning back.
My one goal remained: to reclaim my identity before the end.
I called Dr. Alex Carter: "I want my old face back... I want to die as myself." The Ex I Forgot: A Lover Turned Enemy
Short stories After a terrifying rock-climbing fall, I woke up in a hospital, my past a blank slate thanks to selective amnesia.
My best friend, Chloe, gently informed me I’d lost all memory of my long-term, now ex-boyfriend, Ethan Cole.
Though I felt nothing for this forgotten man, he and his glamorous, vindictive girlfriend, Bella Rossi, swiftly re-entered my life, each encounter proving more unsettling than the last.
Their malicious disdain for me was palpable.
From Bella staging a fall and Ethan’s shocking physical assault that broke my hand, to his public humiliation of me and Bella’s brazen plagiarism of my baking designs—which Ethan shockingly validated as a judge—it felt like a relentless campaign to destroy me.
Bella even tried to burn me alive at his parents' house, and Ethan left me in the flames.
How could this man, whom I supposedly loved, be so utterly cruel, even after my amnesia wiped him from my mind?
His continuous betrayal, culminating in the public destruction of my career and Bella's desperate attempt to run me over, deepened my bewilderment and pain, leaving me questioning everything.
But in the chaos, a kind, genuine baker named Noah Evans emerged, shielding me, showing me what true love felt like.
And when a final, devastating trauma jolted my memories back, I faced a choice: succumb to the past or embrace the peaceful, loving future Noah offered, cementing my new life far from Ethan's toxic shadow. 
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