The Unwanted Wife's Escape

The Unwanted Wife's Escape

Gavin

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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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On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.

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