stephnie56
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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. 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. From Captive to Cherished Wife
Gavin I was at my wedding rehearsal, standing at the altar across from my fiancé, Holden. Our marriage was meant to be the event of the season, a perfect union of two prominent families.
Then, his future sister-in-law, Jaidyn, crumpled to the floor.
Without a single glance my way, Holden vaulted over a row of chairs, scooped her into his arms, and sprinted out of the hall, leaving me alone and publicly humiliated.
Hours later, his voicemail finally came. His voice was thick with emotion, but not for me. He told me Jaidyn has a secret heart condition and has been secretly in love with him for ten years.
He said the stress of our wedding was too much for her, and then asked if I could be like a sister to her once we were married. A text followed moments later: "Postponing the wedding. Jaidyn needs me at the hospital."
He expected tears. He expected me to wait patiently, to graciously accept being sidelined for his secret admirer. He mistook my love for weakness.
But I am Eloise Bowers. My dignity is not something to be discarded.
I scrolled past his name and called his older brother, Alphons—the man Jaidyn was supposedly engaged to.
"Your brother's wedding is off," I told him, my voice steady and clear.
"But the bride is still a Callahan. I'm at the city hall courthouse. You have thirty minutes." 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." His Love, Her Prison, Their Son
Gavin For five years, my husband, Courtland Johnson, had me locked in a rehabilitation center, telling the world I was a murderer who had killed my own stepsister.
On the day of my release, he was waiting. The first thing he did was swerve his car directly at me, trying to run me down before I even left the curb.
My punishment, it turned out, was only just beginning. Back at the mansion I once called home, he locked me in a dog kennel. He forced me to kowtow to my "dead" sister's portrait until my head bled onto the marble floor. He made me drink a potion to ensure my "tainted bloodline" would end with me.
He even tried to give me to a lecherous business partner for the night, a "lesson" for my defiance.
But the cruelest truth was yet to come. My stepsister, Kinsley, was alive. My five years of hell were all part of her sick game. And when my little brother Aspen, my only reason for living, witnessed my humiliation, she had him thrown down a flight of stone steps.
My husband watched him die and did nothing.
Dying from my injuries and a broken heart, I threw myself from a hospital window, my last thought a vow of revenge.
I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day of my release. The warden's voice was flat. "Your husband has arranged it. He's waiting."
This time, I would be the one waiting. To drag him, and everyone who wronged me, straight to hell. Thirty-Eight Divorces, One Betrayal
Gavin Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time.
He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price.
For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs.
Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay.
But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case.
That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan.
He rejected my call.
I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow.
This time, there would be no 39th remarriage.
This time, I would disappear. 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." Three Years, One Big Lie
Gavin I donated my kidney to save my fiancé's sister. For three years, I loved him, cared for her, and planned our future, never knowing the life I was building was a lie.
Then, a text from an unknown number arrived. It was a picture of a marriage certificate from two years ago. Groom: my fiancé, Dock. Bride: his "sister," Brianna.
He admitted it all when I confronted him. He was already married to her when he proposed to me. My love, my sacrifice, was just a way for her to get on his insurance to cover the transplant. He told me she was coming home from the hospital, and I needed to pack my things and leave.
Just hours before, my own doctor had called. The donation had put me at high risk, and now I had aggressive, terminal cancer.
As I drove away from the house we shared, my phone buzzed again. Pictures from Brianna. Them kissing on a beach. A positive pregnancy test. I had given them my health, my future, and my heart, and they had left me with nothing but a death sentence.
The world spun into a blur of headlights and screaming metal.
But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the wreckage. I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache radiating from my side. The anesthetic from my kidney donation surgery was just wearing off. Through the door, my fiancé walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. This time, I knew the truth.