The Cost of Their Lies

The Cost of Their Lies

Gavin

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I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room. The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me. Then, Jessica's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?" My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended. Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival. The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes. Last time, I'd been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car. She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike's help, used my own driver's license to frame me. My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears. I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim's son and his crew. They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered. The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw. How was I back? Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence? A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me. But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: "No." This time, they wouldn't get away with it.

Introduction

I woke up in my own bed, my familiar floral comforter, my slightly messy room.

The sun was too bright, and a wave of nausea hit me.

Then, Jessica's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the kitchen, "Emily? You up?"

My digital clock flashed 7:32 AM, April 12th – the day before my world ended.

Just then, Jessica appeared, her smile too wide, wanting to borrow my Mustang for the Desert Bloom festival.

The image of my beautiful car, mangled, a body on the asphalt, flashed before my eyes.

Last time, I'd been blind to her manipulative ways, handing over the keys to my dream car.

She drove it drunk, killed an innocent man, then, with my boyfriend Mike's help, used my own driver's license to frame me.

My denials were useless against their calculated lies and her fake tears.

I was abandoned, accused, then dragged from my apartment by the victim's son and his crew.

They left me broken on the side of the highway, my body never recovered.

The phantom pain echoed through my limbs, the memory of her betrayal and my agonizing death so vivid, so raw.

How was I back?

Why was I here, staring at these two people who orchestrated my destruction, their faces masks of innocence?

A choking rage, hot and living, simmered within me.

But this time, my eyes were wide open, and my voice was steady as I said the single, defiant word that would change everything: "No."

This time, they wouldn't get away with it.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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