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Three Years of Lies The Day My World Burned

Three Years of Lies The Day My World Burned

Rabbit

5.0
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For three years, I lived a lie as Ava Cole, wife to Ethan, whose devotion was reserved not for me, but his college sweetheart, Chloe Vance. I meticulously tracked his escalating betrayals in my secret "Breaking Point Ledger," knowing 100 points meant freedom. The ledger filled quickly, fueled by his unapologetic neglect and public displays of obsession. Then, disaster struck: caught in a violent car crash, I lay bleeding, my world shattering around me. Doctors, grim-faced, revealed I was eight weeks pregnant, desperately needing help. But when the hospital reached Ethan, his urgent command echoed chillingly: prioritize Chloe, who had a mere allergic reaction. My baby, our baby, was lost. "We couldn't save the baby," the nurse later confirmed, her voice laced with a silent fury that mirrored my own. The ledger, once a quiet tally, now screamed past its limit, leaving a brutal, undeniable score of his final, ultimate betrayal. There was no going back; only forward. With a soul-deep resolve, I signed my divorce papers, reclaiming Ava Miller and leaving behind the shattered remnants of a life that was never truly mine. My bags were already packed for Austin, ready for a new chapter where I would rebuild, reclaim, and rise from the ashes.

Chapter 1 1

For three years, I lived a lie as Ava Cole, wife to Ethan, whose devotion was reserved not for me, but his college sweetheart, Chloe Vance.

I meticulously tracked his escalating betrayals in my secret "Breaking Point Ledger," knowing 100 points meant freedom.

The ledger filled quickly, fueled by his unapologetic neglect and public displays of obsession.

Then, disaster struck: caught in a violent car crash, I lay bleeding, my world shattering around me.

Doctors, grim-faced, revealed I was eight weeks pregnant, desperately needing help.

But when the hospital reached Ethan, his urgent command echoed chillingly: prioritize Chloe, who had a mere allergic reaction.

My baby, our baby, was lost.

"We couldn't save the baby," the nurse later confirmed, her voice laced with a silent fury that mirrored my own.

The ledger, once a quiet tally, now screamed past its limit, leaving a brutal, undeniable score of his final, ultimate betrayal.

There was no going back; only forward.

With a soul-deep resolve, I signed my divorce papers, reclaiming Ava Miller and leaving behind the shattered remnants of a life that was never truly mine.

My bags were already packed for Austin, ready for a new chapter where I would rebuild, reclaim, and rise from the ashes.

Chapter 1

Three years.

Three years I'd been Ava Miller, no, Ava Cole.

Married to Ethan Cole.

It felt like a role I was playing, and I was forgetting my lines.

I sat at my laptop. A new document glowed on the screen.

I typed: "Breaking Point Ledger."

Simple rules. Ethan starts at zero.

Every time he chose Chloe Vance, his college sweetheart, over me, his wife, he got demerit points.

One hundred points. That was the magic number.

One hundred points, and I'd call a lawyer.

No more fights. No more pleading. Just a clean, cold number.

My fingers found the keys.

"Flew to LA to console Chloe on my birthday after her 'devastating' audition rejection. -5 points."

The memory was still sharp. My ruined dinner reservations. His quick, unapologetic exit.

"Left me stranded on the LIE after a fender bender because Chloe had a 'meltdown' at JFK. -10 points."

I remembered sitting in the cold car, the tow truck driver looking at me with pity.

"Lost his wedding ring helping Chloe 'redecorate' her SoHo loft. -10 points."

He'd shrugged it off. "It's just a thing, Ava."

My ring felt heavy on my finger.

Total: -25 points.

A quarter of the way there. Or maybe, a quarter of the way to freedom.

I was sketching designs for a small community center, a project I'd been dreaming about, in the home office.

Our home office.

His home office, really.

It was filled with Ethan's things. His law books, his awards.

And Chloe's things.

A framed photo of Ethan and Chloe, laughing, from their college days, sat on his desk.

A bright, abstract painting Chloe had made for him hung on the wall. He said it "inspired" him.

Ethan walked in. He needed his work laptop for a conference call.

He glanced at my screen. "Breaking Point Ledger."

His eyebrow went up. He leaned over, clicked it open.

He skimmed the few lines.

A small, dismissive smile played on his lips.

"Ava, this is... melodrama, even for you."

He closed the file.

"And my work devices are for work. Client privilege, sensitive data. Your... things... shouldn't be on here."

My heart squeezed. My ledger, my pain, reduced to "things."

Less important than his files, less important than Chloe's smiling face on his desk.

That night, we were at a client dinner. Crucial for Ethan's partnership track at the firm.

He was charming, attentive to Mr. Henderson, the CEO.

I played the supportive wife, smiling until my face ached.

Then Ethan's phone buzzed. He glanced at it.

His face changed. The charm vanished. Replaced by raw panic.

It was Mark, one of his college buddies.

Ethan stood up so fast his chair nearly tipped over.

"Excuse me, Mr. Henderson. A family emergency. I have to go."

He didn't look at me. He was already moving.

He grabbed his coat.

"Ava, I have to go. It's Chloe. Her loft... there's a fire."

Then he was gone, leaving me with the stunned clients and the bill.

Mr. Henderson looked confused. "Everything alright, Mrs. Cole?"

"Yes, just a... a small crisis with a... a dear friend," I managed.

The lie tasted bitter.

I made more excuses. Apologized. Said Ethan would call.

I couldn't stay there. The pity in their eyes was too much.

I got a cab.

"SoHo, please," I told the driver. Chloe's address.

Why was I going? Morbid curiosity. A need to see.

To see what was more important than his career, than me.

Red and blue lights flashed ahead. Smoke curled into the night sky.

Fire trucks. An ambulance.

My stomach twisted.

I saw him. Ethan.

He was arguing with a firefighter at the police line.

"She's in there! Chloe Vance! Apartment 4B!" His voice was hoarse.

"Sir, we can't let you in. It's not safe. My men are checking," the firefighter said, firm but calm.

Ethan wasn't listening. He looked wild.

He ducked under the tape.

The firefighter yelled.

I heard Ethan shout, clear and desperate, as he ran towards the smoky entrance.

"My career can go to hell, as long as Chloe is safe!"

The words hit me. Harder than any physical blow.

Mark and David, Ethan's friends, rushed up to the scene.

They saw me standing there, by the cab, watching.

They looked guilty. Awkward.

"Ava," Mark started, "Ethan, he just... he gets like this about Chloe. Always has."

David nodded, too quickly. "Yeah, ever since college. She's... well, she's Chloe."

They were trying to smooth it over. They were making it worse.

Confirming everything I already knew.

His intense, unwavering obsession.

Then, movement at the building's entrance.

Firefighters emerged, supporting a coughing Chloe.

Her face was smudged with soot, her trendy clothes singed, but she was walking.

She looked dramatic, leaning heavily on a firefighter.

A moment later, Ethan stumbled out.

He was covered in soot, his hair singed, coughing violently.

He rushed to Chloe's side, ignoring the paramedics trying to check him.

"Chloe! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He held her arms, his voice full of anguish.

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, Ethan! You saved me!"

He swayed, clearly exhausted, but held her tight.

He looked like he was about to collapse.

I watched them. The hero and his damsel.

My mind flashed back. Professor Miller, my father. NYU Law.

Ethan Cole, his prize student. Brilliant. Ambitious.

I'd met him at a moot court competition. He was dazzling. I was smitten.

Then Dad got sick. Terminal cancer.

His dying wish, whispered to Ethan at his bedside.

"Look after Ava. Please, Ethan. Look after my girl."

Ethan proposed a week after the funeral.

"It's not just obligation, Ava," he'd said, holding my hands. "I care about you. Deeply."

I'd wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.

The poker night. Six months after our wedding.

Ethan's friends, drunk, loud. I was in the kitchen, getting drinks.

I overheard David. "Poor Ava. She has no idea."

Mark slurred, "No idea about what?"

"That Ethan only married her because Chloe ran off and married that European tech billionaire. He was a wreck. Couldn't get out of bed for weeks."

Chloe. Always Chloe.

She was divorced now, back in New York. Back in Ethan's orbit.

His coldness, his distance, his constant attention to Chloe's needs. It all made a horrible kind of sense.

I wasn't his choice. I was his consolation prize.

That overheard conversation was the real start of the ledger.

The little notebook I'd bought the next day.

The digital file was just its latest form.

It wasn't just about his current neglect.

It was about the lie our whole marriage was built on.

The ledger was my silent scream. My countdown.

My way of taking back some control.

Chloe's return to New York had accelerated everything.

More calls. More "emergencies." More drama.

More points in the ledger.

The -25 felt like it had accumulated in a flash.

Each new entry was a step closer to the door.

Paramedics were insisting Ethan go to the hospital. Smoke inhalation.

He kept waving them off, fussing over Chloe.

"I'm fine. Just make sure Chloe is okay."

Chloe was milking it, a few coughs, a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, Ethan, you were so brave. I was so scared."

He looked at her with such tenderness.

A look he never gave me.

Mark and David hovered near me.

"He'll be alright, Ava," Mark said, trying for reassuring. "The Coles have connections. Best doctors in the city."

David added, "Yeah, money's no object for them."

As if that fixed a heart shattered by neglect.

As if that erased the image of him running into a burning building for another woman.

I didn't go to the hospital with them.

Chloe needed Ethan. Ethan needed Chloe.

There was no space for Ava.

I went home to our cold, empty apartment.

I opened my laptop. The "Breaking Point Ledger" glowed.

My fingers typed.

"Abandoned crucial client dinner for Chloe's fire. -5 points."

"Rushed into burning building for Chloe, risked his life declaring his career meant nothing next to her safety. -15 points."

New total: -45 points.

Almost halfway there.

A cold dread, mixed with a strange sense of anticipation, settled in my stomach.

It was happening. The end was coming.

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