The Fiancée Who Vanished

Name: The Fiancée Who Vanished
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Gavin

Romance | Completed

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My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, a cascade of ivory lace and a secret smile for the life growing inside me. I was marrying Ethan, the brilliant tech entrepreneur, the man who had swept me off my feet, the father of our child. Then, a knock on the door, and my maid of honor's whispered words shattered everything: "His plane went down. No survivors." Grief crushed me, a physical weight, obscuring the world in a blur of hushed voices and endless pain. My rock, my older brother David, shielded me as I navigated the nightmare of loss, our future obliterated. Weeks later, a ghost of Ethan arrived – his identical twin, Marcus – with his "spiritual guide," Isabella, a woman with unnervingly serene eyes. But one sleepless night, voices from the library pierced the silence: Eleanor, Ethan's mother, was confronting "Marcus," calling him Ethan. My blood ran cold as I heard him confess he faked his death for Isabella, claiming she had aggressive leukemia, promising to return when she was gone. The man I loved, the father of my child, had orchestrated this monstrous betrayal, making me mourn him while he was alive and with her. Then came the anonymous video: Ethan and Isabella, their raw, animalistic passion a calculated act of cruelty designed to inflict maximum pain, and it worked. My despair turned to a cold, hard rage, culminating in a decision only he forced me to make. I called David, my voice trembling with fury: "He faked his death. I want him to believe I'm gone because of him. I want to disappear." This time, my disappearance wouldn't be a tragedy; it would be the first act of my retribution, a masterpiece of his own making.

Thriller Betrayal Revenge Pregnancy Drama

Chapter 10

Yesterday 17:31

Introduction

My wedding day was supposed to be perfect, a cascade of ivory lace and dreams of a future with Ethan, the brilliant entrepreneur, the man I loved, the father of our unborn child.

Hours before walking down the aisle, my maid of honor delivered unimaginable news: Ethan's plane went down, no survivors, obliterated.

Grief consumed me, a physical weight that pressed the breath from my lungs. I mourned our dreams, our perfect future, the life our baby would never know with its father.

Then, weeks later, the man who called himself Marcus, Ethan's supposedly estranged identical twin, arrived from Southeast Asia with a "spiritual guide" named Isabella. He was a ghost of Ethan, unsettlingly familiar. But the truth struck with the force of a physical blow in the dead of night. Hiding, I overheard Ethan himself, not "Marcus," confessing to his mother that he faked his death, abandoning me, abandoning our child, all for Isabella, who he claimed was dying of leukemia.

The man I wept for, the father of my baby, had orchestrated this entire nightmare, shattering everything, and he dared to think I would understand? My grief twisted into a cold, hard rage.

He would feel what I felt; he would believe I was gone, because of him. With my ex-Delta Force brother, David, by my side, I plotted my own disappearance, determined to make him truly understand the consequences of his monstrous betrayal.