The Miscarriage Plot

The Miscarriage Plot

Gavin

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The tiny screen showed a pulsing heartbeat, and Doctor Ramirez smiled. I was pregnant, overjoyed, ready to build our perfect family with Michael, my loving husband, and my rock-solid best friend, Chloe. It felt like a dream come true after years of trying. Then Chloe gifted me an antique locket, a seemingly thoughtful "protection charm." But soon after, my baby's heartbeat grew alarmingly erratic. The doctor warned me, while a chilling encounter with an eccentric antique dealer sparked a horrifying thought: Was the locket cursed? Could it be a "vessel of sorrow" meant to "rebalance fates"? His ominous words echoed as Chloe, who'd struggled with IVF, began showing surprising "positive signs." Desperate to protect my child, I tried to banish the locket's influence. That's when I overheard the insidious truth: Michael's voice, hushed, conspiring with Chloe. "The locket's influence is definitely working," he whispered. "Her inevitable breakdown will make things easier." "The trust fund... it'll all be sorted." Betrayal ripped through me, cold and agonizing. My husband, the man I trusted with my life, and my best friend, were actively orchestrating my ruin. The "curse" wasn't supernatural; it was a calculated scheme of psychological torture and subtle drugs. It was all designed to induce my miscarriage and drive me mad, all for my family's trust fund. Every loving glance, every comforting word, a horrifying lie. The terror was instant, quickly followed by a searing, ice-cold fury. They thought I was collapsing, but their vile deception simply ignited a dormant strength within me. They wanted to tear down my world. I wouldn't just survive; I would meticulously expose their every deceit. I would dismantle their entire wicked plot. And I would ensure they faced justice for the monstrous theft of my peace, my future, and my baby.

Introduction

The tiny screen showed a pulsing heartbeat, and Doctor Ramirez smiled.

I was pregnant, overjoyed, ready to build our perfect family with Michael, my loving husband, and my rock-solid best friend, Chloe.

It felt like a dream come true after years of trying.

Then Chloe gifted me an antique locket, a seemingly thoughtful "protection charm."

But soon after, my baby's heartbeat grew alarmingly erratic.

The doctor warned me, while a chilling encounter with an eccentric antique dealer sparked a horrifying thought: Was the locket cursed?

Could it be a "vessel of sorrow" meant to "rebalance fates"?

His ominous words echoed as Chloe, who'd struggled with IVF, began showing surprising "positive signs."

Desperate to protect my child, I tried to banish the locket's influence.

That's when I overheard the insidious truth: Michael's voice, hushed, conspiring with Chloe.

"The locket's influence is definitely working," he whispered.

"Her inevitable breakdown will make things easier."

"The trust fund... it'll all be sorted."

Betrayal ripped through me, cold and agonizing.

My husband, the man I trusted with my life, and my best friend, were actively orchestrating my ruin.

The "curse" wasn't supernatural; it was a calculated scheme of psychological torture and subtle drugs.

It was all designed to induce my miscarriage and drive me mad, all for my family's trust fund.

Every loving glance, every comforting word, a horrifying lie.

The terror was instant, quickly followed by a searing, ice-cold fury.

They thought I was collapsing, but their vile deception simply ignited a dormant strength within me.

They wanted to tear down my world.

I wouldn't just survive; I would meticulously expose their every deceit.

I would dismantle their entire wicked plot.

And I would ensure they faced justice for the monstrous theft of my peace, my future, and my baby.

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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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