The Platinum Card Betrayal

The Platinum Card Betrayal

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
110
View
11
Chapters

My son, Sam, practically vibrated with excitement. "Future Leaders Summer Institute, Dad! Can you believe it?" I smiled, a rare, soft expression. I'd made sure of it; a quiet call to the university, a valuable donation – a small price for Sam's future, far from my company's shadow. I preferred my quiet life as a rare book appraiser, anyway. The donation was anonymous. A week later, Sam's face fell. "Dad... they... they gave my spot away." A cold knot tightened in my stomach. The email spoke of "a significant new benefactor" and "Mr. Rick Sterling's generous contribution" for his son, RJ Sterling. Rick Sterling. I knew that name from my wife, Tiffany's, obsessive social media. Then, the punch to the gut: "$150,000 processed via a platinum credit card." The last four digits were sickeningly familiar. It was Tiffany's supplementary card. My money. She'd used my money to buy Sam's spot for someone else. My own son, crushed because of my wife's blatant betrayal. A quiet rage, cold and sharp, began to build. This wasn't just about a summer program; it was a theft, a deep personal wound. Dean Holloway, the smarmy director, would be at the welcome reception tonight. He clearly enabled this. I looked at Sam's devastated face. "Get dressed, Sam. We're going to that reception." Sam looked confused. "But Dad, I didn't get in." My voice was calm, but with an edge he'd never heard. I needed to see this. I needed to understand the true depth of Tiffany's involvement and Rick Sterling's arrogance. My son's disappointment was a raw wound. I would make this right.

Introduction

My son, Sam, practically vibrated with excitement.

"Future Leaders Summer Institute, Dad! Can you believe it?"

I smiled, a rare, soft expression.

I'd made sure of it; a quiet call to the university, a valuable donation – a small price for Sam's future, far from my company's shadow.

I preferred my quiet life as a rare book appraiser, anyway.

The donation was anonymous.

A week later, Sam's face fell.

"Dad... they... they gave my spot away."

A cold knot tightened in my stomach.

The email spoke of "a significant new benefactor" and "Mr. Rick Sterling's generous contribution" for his son, RJ Sterling.

Rick Sterling.

I knew that name from my wife, Tiffany's, obsessive social media.

Then, the punch to the gut: "$150,000 processed via a platinum credit card."

The last four digits were sickeningly familiar.

It was Tiffany's supplementary card.

My money.

She'd used my money to buy Sam's spot for someone else.

My own son, crushed because of my wife's blatant betrayal.

A quiet rage, cold and sharp, began to build.

This wasn't just about a summer program; it was a theft, a deep personal wound.

Dean Holloway, the smarmy director, would be at the welcome reception tonight.

He clearly enabled this.

I looked at Sam's devastated face.

"Get dressed, Sam. We're going to that reception."

Sam looked confused.

"But Dad, I didn't get in."

My voice was calm, but with an edge he'd never heard.

I needed to see this.

I needed to understand the true depth of Tiffany's involvement and Rick Sterling's arrogance.

My son's disappointment was a raw wound.

I would make this right.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

4.6

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.

You'll also like

The Truth About His Mistress

The Truth About His Mistress

Gavin
4.7

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

The Wine Press
4.5

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book