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The Wife He Designed

The Wife He Designed

Gavin

5.0
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121.8K
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11
Chapters

My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect. I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe. But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes. My world shattered. The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined. I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved. He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession. Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit. A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind? He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool. He was terribly wrong. I would not be his vessel, his substitute. When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion. Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace. He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making.

Protagonist

: Ava Miller and Ethan Cole

Introduction

My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect.

I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe.

But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes.

My world shattered.

The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined.

I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved.

He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession.

Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit.

A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind?

He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool.

He was terribly wrong.

I would not be his vessel, his substitute.

When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion.

Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace.

He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making.

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Betrayal's Bitter Taste

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I clutched the heavy trophy, validation for placing first at the International "Le Cordon Bleu" Grand Prix, a win that felt like the culmination of a lifelong dream. It was our fifth anniversary, and I couldn't wait to surprise Olivia with both the trophy and the Sterling Corporation contract-a multi-million dollar deal that would secure our future. But when I pushed through the restaurant doors, the festive buzz hit me first, then the sight of Olivia on a makeshift stage, her hand intertwined with Mark' s, my long-time mentor. Her amplified voice cut through the air: "…and I owe it all to one person… Mark!" The roar of applause, then Mark's lips on hers, a full, lingering kiss, right there in front of everyone. My world tilted. When Olivia finally noticed me, her smile faltered for a mere second, replaced by a cool annoyance. "Ethan," she flatly stated, "You' re back. This isn' t a good time." Mark smirked, wearing my head chef' s jacket, confirming my deepest fears. The contract I' d just secured was scoffed at, called "naive." How could she? The woman I loved, the partner I built everything with, dismissed me as "incompetent," her betrayal a physical blow. The humiliation burned, a hot, sharp thing in my throat. I stood there, reeling, the echoes of their mocking laughter ringing in my ears. But that was the moment everything changed. The pristine pages of the Sterling contract tore with a satisfying rip as I shredded it into pieces, letting them flutter to her feet like fallen snow. I walked out of that restaurant, turning my back on five years of my life, picking up the phone to call the one man who could help me reclaim my future: my father.

His White Moonlight, Her Broken Heart

His White Moonlight, Her Broken Heart

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"Welcome home, sister," Olivia purred, her voice dripping fake sympathy, her eyes gleaming with triumph. My stepsister. Standing at the top of the stairs in a soft white dress, looking every bit the innocent angel. Just hours before, I' d been the picture-perfect partner to tech mogul Liam, or so the world believed. We were the ultimate power couple, but our life was a beautifully constructed lie. I was his accessory, the woman he paraded while his true affections revolved around Olivia, his childhood friend, his "white moonlight." That night, I found a silver locket, a shrine to her, inscribed: My O. My life. It shattered the last illusion. Then, my father, seeing my broken spirit and ruined relationship, unveiled his plan: a marriage contract to the ailing Nathan for a critical business merger. A desperate escape, or so I thought. "You knew," I whispered, rage trembling in my voice, looking at my stepmother and Olivia. "You both knew all along." They were in on it. Olivia, my mousy, perpetually "ill" stepsister, was the architect of my humiliation, systematically undermining me, pulling her medical scares to sabotage my moments with Liam. But Liam' s betrayal wasn' t just about Olivia. He cut off my credit cards, left me penniless, and then, after dramatically "saving" me from my father' s goons, he threw me in a holding cell at the auction house where Olivia, with his blessing, stole my mother' s last heirloom. He had used me, not as a replacement, but as a pawn in a sick game to manipulate Olivia into confessing her feelings for him. The shock was a physical blow. My mother' s assistant confirmed it: Liam had engineered our entire relationship. I wasn't just second best; I was a calculated strategem. Empty, hollow, and utterly adrift, I walked back into the sterile silence of our penthouse. A cleansing fire. I burned it all down. Every lie. Every memory. "I don't know you," I told him, as the elevator doors closed. The next day, I accepted Nathan Lawford's marriage proposal.

His Betrayal, Her Fiery Rebirth

His Betrayal, Her Fiery Rebirth

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The air still reeked of scorched metal and something sickly sweet, even as I stood on the gantry, watching the heat waves rise from the test pit below. My husband, Liam, stood beside me, his face impassive as he held out a pen. "Sign the papers, Ava," he demanded, his voice flat. Suspended beneath us, held by a massive industrial claw, were my parents-pale, terrified, and renowned NASA scientists. Liam' s new mistress, Scarlett, was pregnant, and he needed a "real home" for his new family. I had laughed, a raw, broken sound, when he told me, then confronted him, only for him to offer divorce papers and a blank check. "Take it. It' s more than you deserve," he' d said. My refusal led to broken legs, a vicious smear campaign, and then, he took my parents. Now, he offered the pen again: "Sign. Or they' re gone." My parents' eyes screamed, though their mouths were taped. My father shook his head, a desperate plea for me not to comply. But I couldn' t let them die. My own life was already over. "I' ll sign," I whispered, tasting ash. "Just let them go." Liam nodded to the operator, but the claw didn' t rise. It opened. My parents fell, their screams swallowed by an inferno. The stench of burning flesh hit me, and I vomited. Liam watched, his eyes empty. The world dissolved into grief and fire. There was nothing left. I turned, and with a final look at the man I once loved, I threw myself into the flames. And then I woke up. My legs were whole. The date on my phone was yesterday. It wasn' t a dream. It was a second chance.

Unmasking Her, Reclaiming His Life

Unmasking Her, Reclaiming His Life

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The heavy glass door of the city clerk' s office swung shut, sealing my fate. Today was supposed to be perfect, our third wedding anniversary, a day to celebrate the love Olivia and I had built. I clutched a small, official envelope, the certified copy of our marriage certificate, a simple gift. But the clerk' s flat voice still echoed in my ears: "There is no marriage certificate on file for an Ethan Miller and an Olivia Reed." My perfect life shattered. Olivia, my wife, the love of my life, was legally married to Alex Thorne, my protégé. The man who had filled in for me, the man she' d once dismissed. Every memory, every whispered promise, every intimate moment we shared, felt like a meticulously crafted lie. My heart pounded, a grotesque drumbeat against a hollow chest. How could this be? How could the woman I loved, the woman who promised me forever, be living a double life? How could I have been so blind? I walked into our apartment, the home I designed as a monument to our love, and heard her voice from the bedroom, low and intimate. "Of course, I miss you, Alex. Ethan doesn't know anything, he' s as clueless as ever. You know I can' t leave him, not yet. He' s too useful, his name still carries weight in this city, but you' re the one I' m married to, you' re the one I truly need." The words struck me like a physical blow, choking the air from my lungs. I wasn' t a husband; I was a prop, a stepping stone in her grand scheme. But the love I felt for her died in that hallway, replaced by something cold and sharp. I wouldn' t give her the satisfaction of a fight. I would disappear. And then, when she was comfortable in her world built on my back, I would return and take everything from her.

Love's Final Condemnation

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The antiseptic smell of the hospital clung to me as I watched my brother, Leo, fight for every shallow breath-his life fading, his only hope an experimental surgery with an impossible price tag. My art, once my passion, gathered dust, while my father' s legacy, his architectural masterpiece, was brazenly stolen. Julian Vance, my father' s apprentice, stood before the towering Skyline Spire, a perfect replica of my dad' s unpatented dream, "Helios." He smiled, sharp and confident, taking all the credit at its grand unveiling. Rage, hot and sharp, coursed through me. He had stolen my dying father's masterpiece, building an empire while Leo lay dying. I confronted him, shouting the truth amidst flashing cameras. He dismissed me as distraught, a hysterical girl consumed by grief, his hand on my shoulder a public brand of instability. The crowd believed him, the powerful mogul, not the desperate girl in frayed denim. His eyes, though, flickered with a fleeting, inner turmoil that I inexplicably heard, a frantic whisper of guilt and terror. Humiliated, abandoned by my own family who valued Julian' s influence over my truth, I stumbled into the cold night. A sharp pain seized my chest, and blood stained my palm. It wasn't just Leo who was sick; I was too, and time was running out. He bought my silence, evicted me, and forced me into his gilded cage. I was now his servant, subjected to endless degradation by his cruel lover, Isabella, and Julian himself, whose every action, though outwardly cold, seemed driven by a terrifying internal war. I found myself trapped, desperately trying to survive, with a new life unexpectedly growing inside me, a secret I couldn't keep.

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