The Unwanted Wife's Escape

The Unwanted Wife's Escape

Zitella Shepp

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For ten years, I was Mrs. Ethan Cole, the perfect half of Manhattan's "Power Couple," living in a penthouse straight out of a magazine. I believed in our vows, even if love felt distant. Then, at a grim police precinct, I overheard him. My husband, Ethan, praised his assistant, Chloe, "She's not like Ava. Chloe has self-respect. She wouldn't just... offer herself up like that." My world shattered. Ten years, my entire adult life, reduced to a woman he deemed disposable, lacking "self-respect." He proved it, dismissing my car accident, then allowing Chloe to maliciously frame me at Thanksgiving. He even grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my skin, all to protect her. I was his property, an inconvenience, nothing more. How had I been so blind to the depth of his contempt? How could a relationship built on duty devolve into such cruel neglect and humiliation? The man who was supposed to be my protector had become my tormentor. That night, my voice steady, I told him, "I want a divorce." His rage erupted, demanding I "come home," threatening to make my life a living hell. But the compliant wife was gone. My only regret was not leaving sooner. This was no longer a marriage; it was my fight for freedom, my chance to finally live.

Introduction

For ten years, I was Mrs. Ethan Cole, the perfect half of Manhattan's "Power Couple," living in a penthouse straight out of a magazine.

I believed in our vows, even if love felt distant.

Then, at a grim police precinct, I overheard him.

My husband, Ethan, praised his assistant, Chloe, "She's not like Ava. Chloe has self-respect. She wouldn't just... offer herself up like that."

My world shattered.

Ten years, my entire adult life, reduced to a woman he deemed disposable, lacking "self-respect."

He proved it, dismissing my car accident, then allowing Chloe to maliciously frame me at Thanksgiving.

He even grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my skin, all to protect her.

I was his property, an inconvenience, nothing more.

How had I been so blind to the depth of his contempt?

How could a relationship built on duty devolve into such cruel neglect and humiliation?

The man who was supposed to be my protector had become my tormentor.

That night, my voice steady, I told him, "I want a divorce."

His rage erupted, demanding I "come home," threatening to make my life a living hell.

But the compliant wife was gone.

My only regret was not leaving sooner.

This was no longer a marriage; it was my fight for freedom, my chance to finally live.

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For three years, I thought I was happily married to Gavin, a struggling MMA fighter. I worked two jobs to make ends meet, tending to his wounds, believing his love was the only thing keeping him going, especially since a car crash had wiped my memory clean, leaving him as my entire world. Then, scrubbing our tiny kitchen floor, the local news flashed a headline: "Tech giant Gavin Hawkins, CEO of Hawkins Industries, announced his engagement today to Vice President Heidi Daniel." The man on screen, standing in front of a skyscraper, embracing a stunning woman, was my husband. He wore a tailored suit, a stark contrast to the bruised fighter I knew. The small, carved wooden bird I' d painstakingly made for our anniversary rested against his chest as he kissed her deeply, possessively. My stomach twisted, my head pounded, and the steak I was cooking for him began to smoke, filling our cramped apartment with a bitter, burning smell. I stumbled out, hailing a cab to Hawkins Industries, desperate for answers. There, I saw him laughing with Heidi, oblivious to my presence. He silenced my call, texting, "In a meeting, baby. Can't talk. Be home late tonight. Don't wait up for me. I love you." The words blurred through my tears. A sob escaped, loud and raw. A flash of pain shot through my head, and then, the memories flooded back: the car crash wasn't an accident, Heidi Daniel was the driver, and Gavin, my father's protégé, had orchestrated this entire lie, this cruel test of my loyalty. He had taken everything-my identity, my wealth, my family-and thrown me into poverty, just to see if I would still love him unconditionally. He was a monster, and I was his prisoner. But a cold, hard resolve settled in my chest: I would burn his world to the ground, starting by faking my own death.

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