Betrayed Bride

Betrayed Bride

Sylvester O

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I am Cindy, a radiant young woman whose life takes an unexpected turn on the morning of my eagerly anticipated wedding day. As the sun gently bathes my room like a soft morning light, I woke up only to discover that my physical body has been tragically taken from me by an unknown assailant. Confused and disoriented, it took me time to realize that I was actually a ghost. I was determined to unravel the truth behind my untimely demise. I embarked on a courageous quest to uncover the identity of my murderer. Guided by an otherworldly presence and my unwavering determination, I navigated my way through ethereal landscapes and supernatural encounters to bring justice to my self. As i delved deeper into the secrets of my past, I discovered that my death was not a random act. Along the way, I embraced my newfound ethereal abilities, combining my razor-sharp intuition, empathy, and strength of spirit to protect the ones i love and unveil the truth that was buried in the shadows.

Chapter 1 My worst nightmare

I awoke from a deep sleep. I felt groggy and disoriented, as if I had just come out of a trance. I blinked a few times, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the light. I looked around, and realized that I was in my bedroom. Everything seemed normal, but there was something off about the room. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I sat up on my bed and rubbed my eyes. The room was quiet and still. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and put my feet on the floor. As I stood up, I noticed a strange feeling in my body. I felt light, as if I were weightless. I looked down at my hands, and they seemed translucent, almost ghostly. A shiver ran down my spine, and a sense of dread filled me. Something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong. I took a few steps forward, my feet hovering just above the ground.

As I walked out of my bedroom, I noticed something else was strange. The furniture in the hallway seemed to be floating a few inches above the floor. I felt a surge of panic, my mind was racing as I ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I felt dizzy and lightheaded, and my heart was pounding. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. A few minutes passed, and I felt my breathing start to slow. I took a deep breath and looked up at the mirror. There, in the reflection, I saw my own face, but something was wrong. My eyes were sunken and dull, and my skin was pale and waxy. I looked as if I were already dead. My heart started racing again, and I stumbled back from the mirror. I looked around the bathroom, and slowly, I turned around and went back to the bedroom. I peeked around the door, not sure what to expect. And there it was. My body, lying on the bed, as still as a statue. I felt nauseous, and my head was spinning. I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. I approached the bed and reached out to touch the body, but i couldn't as my hands kept passing through it. I felt, at that moment, that I was looking at a corpse. But it was my body. I stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what was happening. Sitting up in my bed. I was drenched in sweat, and my heart was pounding. I looked around my room, trying to process what was happening. It felt so real. I put my head in my hands, And then, I heard a voice. It was my own voice, echoing in my head. "You're safe. You're still alive. It is just a dream." But even as I tried to convince myself, I knew that wasn't true. Something had happened to me. Something I couldn't explain. I ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my breathing was shallow and rapid. I kept on screaming but no body came out. The entire house was silent. I had no other option than to go back to my room and figure out what was happening.

As I sat on my bed, trying to process what was happening, I heard a sound. It was my mother's voice, calling my name. She was coming up the stairs, her footsteps heavy on the wood. I was afraid to face her. I knew she would be devastated when she saw me. She was always so protective of me, always worried that something would happen to me. I heard her reach the top of the stairs, and I took a deep breath. I could hear her footsteps getting closer and closer. And then, she was at my door. "Sweetheart," she called out. "Are you okay?" she asked. I didn't know what to say. I knew I couldn't tell her the truth. I just couldn't. I was too afraid. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. "I'm fine," I finally managed to say. She hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. She looked at me, then at my bed. Her eyes grew wide. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling. She took a step toward my bed, and that's when she saw it.

She saw my own body, lying there motionless. She screamed, and I could see the terror in her eyes. "What's going on?" she shouted. "How is this possible? I thought she was referring to me. I wanted to tell her the truth, but the words stuck in my throat. I tried to speak, but I couldn't. I could only watch as she ran to my body, sobbing. "No, no, no," she whispered, over and over. I felt helpless, unable to do anything to comfort her. She turned to me, her eyes filled with anguish. It seemed as though she was looking at me, but it turned out that she wasn't. I couldn't even put my fingers around what was happening. It was my wedding day, a day I have long waited for, but the whole scenario seemed to be delaying my day.

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Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

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I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

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