The Necklace I Designed, His Mistress Wore

The Necklace I Designed, His Mistress Wore

Gavin

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Days from launching my passion project, "Ephemeral Echoes," I was a rising game developer, engaged to Ethan, NexusCorp's CEO. Our publicly perfect life was a tech-world fairytale, built on what I believed was unwavering trust and shared dreams. Then came the chat log: Ethan's explicit DMs with Chloe Davis, an intern. Intimate photos from his penthouse. The real gut punch: Chloe had access to *my* early game concepts, the raw soul of "Ephemeral Echoes." He hadn't just betrayed my heart; he'd stolen my very creative identity. A chilling descent followed. Chloe's taunting DMs, featuring photos of Ethan, and his family's champagne toasts to her "pregnancy"-accessorized with *my* custom-designed necklace. Ethan, my rock, publicly abandoned me for her, dismissing my agony as mere "pre-launch jitters." His gaslighting amplified my humiliation. My entire life, meticulously crafted, crumbled into a grotesque, public charade, a lie I could no longer ignore. How could the man I loved systemically erase me, all while the world applauded our 'perfect' fairytale? The betrayal was suffocating. But I wouldn't be his victim. My global, live-streamed game launch would become my stage, not for triumph, but for definitive escape. Ava Miller would die that night in a meticulously orchestrated "accident," reborn as Grace Porter, leaving him to face the shattered code of his own making.

Introduction

Days from launching my passion project, "Ephemeral Echoes," I was a rising game developer, engaged to Ethan, NexusCorp's CEO.

Our publicly perfect life was a tech-world fairytale, built on what I believed was unwavering trust and shared dreams.

Then came the chat log: Ethan's explicit DMs with Chloe Davis, an intern.

Intimate photos from his penthouse.

The real gut punch: Chloe had access to *my* early game concepts, the raw soul of "Ephemeral Echoes."

He hadn't just betrayed my heart; he'd stolen my very creative identity.

A chilling descent followed.

Chloe's taunting DMs, featuring photos of Ethan, and his family's champagne toasts to her "pregnancy"-accessorized with *my* custom-designed necklace.

Ethan, my rock, publicly abandoned me for her, dismissing my agony as mere "pre-launch jitters."

His gaslighting amplified my humiliation.

My entire life, meticulously crafted, crumbled into a grotesque, public charade, a lie I could no longer ignore.

How could the man I loved systemically erase me, all while the world applauded our 'perfect' fairytale?

The betrayal was suffocating.

But I wouldn't be his victim.

My global, live-streamed game launch would become my stage, not for triumph, but for definitive escape.

Ava Miller would die that night in a meticulously orchestrated "accident," reborn as Grace Porter, leaving him to face the shattered code of his own making.

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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.

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