Mike's Bet, Sarah's Win

Mike's Bet, Sarah's Win

Gavin

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The smell of burnt turkey still hung in the air, but the stench of ruin was far stronger. My husband Mike, the man who worked his hands raw, sat at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Eighty thousand dollars. Vanished. Emily's college fund, Mom's arthritis surgery, next year's mortgage on our Texas ranch house. Our entire future. He'd lost it all in a 'friendly game' of poker with his old buddy, Jake Riley. Mike was broken, promising double shifts, desperate to make it right. But it was too little, too late. I knew Jake. A leech, a con artist. Eighty grand in one night? This wasn't just bad luck; it was a setup. They thought they'd taken my hardworking, trusting husband for a fool. They thought they'd won. The numbness faded, replaced by cold fury. A faint, almost invisible scar on my left wrist, a ghost from a past I'd buried in the neon glare of Las Vegas, began to throb. I smashed Emily's ceramic unicorn, took her meager savings. 'Get up, Mike,' my voice cold, hard. 'We're going to pay Jake a visit.' He was terrified. I just smiled, a bitter, dangerous smile. He had no idea who he'd married. And Jake Riley was about to meet the 'Phantom Hand.'

Introduction

The smell of burnt turkey still hung in the air, but the stench of ruin was far stronger. My husband Mike, the man who worked his hands raw, sat at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Eighty thousand dollars. Vanished. Emily's college fund, Mom's arthritis surgery, next year's mortgage on our Texas ranch house. Our entire future.

He'd lost it all in a 'friendly game' of poker with his old buddy, Jake Riley. Mike was broken, promising double shifts, desperate to make it right. But it was too little, too late.

I knew Jake. A leech, a con artist. Eighty grand in one night? This wasn't just bad luck; it was a setup. They thought they'd taken my hardworking, trusting husband for a fool. They thought they'd won.

The numbness faded, replaced by cold fury. A faint, almost invisible scar on my left wrist, a ghost from a past I'd buried in the neon glare of Las Vegas, began to throb.

I smashed Emily's ceramic unicorn, took her meager savings. 'Get up, Mike,' my voice cold, hard. 'We're going to pay Jake a visit.' He was terrified. I just smiled, a bitter, dangerous smile. He had no idea who he'd married. And Jake Riley was about to meet the 'Phantom Hand.'

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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.

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