The Night I Died, She Chose Him

The Night I Died, She Chose Him

Gavin

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My spirit watched. That's all I could do while my life slipped away. My eight-year-old son, Finn, begged his mother, Laura, to help me. I was gasping, mid-asthma attack. But Laura, my wife, pulled away, eyes flicking to the door. She dismissed me as "dramatic," a lie whispered by her manipulative ex-flame, Julian Vance. He had convinced her I was faking, and she chose him, leaving me to die alone, just to meet him. I died, but my spirit remained, a powerless anchor to our home. I watched in agonizing horror as Laura abandoned Finn, leaving him with my cooling body. When Finn, terrified and barefoot, ran for help, he found Laura laughing with Julian. She dismissed his pleas, punished him for "embarrassing" her, even wishing I would "disappear." Julian, the architect of our ruin, systematically drained our savings, gaslit Laura, and now relentlessly tortured our son. I saw him dismember my dead body, and Finn was forced to witness it all. Yet, Laura, tragically blinded by obsession, believed Julian's every lie, ignoring Finn's cries, his visible injuries. How could she choose this monster over her own child, her own husband? How could her love turn into such monstrous neglect? My helpless rage was a silent scream, an agony beyond death itself. But tethered to her madness, I couldn't rest. Until the crushing truth finally shattered her delusion, I knew my boy and I would be bound to this nightmare. Could she ever truly see the monster she embraced, and the family she destroyed? Or would we forever be prisoners of her oblivion?

Introduction

My spirit watched. That's all I could do while my life slipped away. My eight-year-old son, Finn, begged his mother, Laura, to help me. I was gasping, mid-asthma attack.

But Laura, my wife, pulled away, eyes flicking to the door. She dismissed me as "dramatic," a lie whispered by her manipulative ex-flame, Julian Vance. He had convinced her I was faking, and she chose him, leaving me to die alone, just to meet him.

I died, but my spirit remained, a powerless anchor to our home. I watched in agonizing horror as Laura abandoned Finn, leaving him with my cooling body. When Finn, terrified and barefoot, ran for help, he found Laura laughing with Julian. She dismissed his pleas, punished him for "embarrassing" her, even wishing I would "disappear." Julian, the architect of our ruin, systematically drained our savings, gaslit Laura, and now relentlessly tortured our son. I saw him dismember my dead body, and Finn was forced to witness it all. Yet, Laura, tragically blinded by obsession, believed Julian's every lie, ignoring Finn's cries, his visible injuries.

How could she choose this monster over her own child, her own husband? How could her love turn into such monstrous neglect? My helpless rage was a silent scream, an agony beyond death itself.

But tethered to her madness, I couldn't rest. Until the crushing truth finally shattered her delusion, I knew my boy and I would be bound to this nightmare. Could she ever truly see the monster she embraced, and the family she destroyed? Or would we forever be prisoners of her oblivion?

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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