No More Chances, Mr. Thorne

No More Chances, Mr. Thorne

Gavin

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My world shattered when Julian Thorne repaid my ultimate sacrifice with cold betrayal. For nine agonizing times, I, Elara, a Life Weaver, poured my very essence into saving him from death, only for him to credit his scheming lover, Cassie Dane. After my ninth, desperate act of healing, he heartlessly ripped my family's sacred amulet from my neck, leaving me to die, forgotten. But fate, it seemed, had other plans, and I found myself gasping alive in my remote Ozarks cabin for a second chance. When Julian's deadly illness re-emerged, and his desperate family came knocking, I calmly delivered my firm "No," refusing to become his victim a tenth time. Yet, Julian, now deeply ensnared by Cassie, wouldn't accept my refusal, escalating his malice beyond measure. He married Cassie, then, with savage glee, knowingly drove his ATV through my vital medicinal garden, shattering my rare healing plants. His malevolence reached its horrific peak when he commanded his guards to systematically destroy my hands, the very conduits of my healing power, then pinned my hand to the porch with a hunting knife while Cassie livestreamed my screaming agony. How could the man I sacrificially loved become such a monster, so blind to truth, so twisted by a toxic parasite he called love, that he would try to utterly obliterate my very essence? Just as he raised the knife again to disfigure my face, the very earth rebelled. An ancient chandelier, a symbol of his family's past, crashed from the ceiling directly onto him, a swift and brutal karmic judgment that finally, truly, set me free.

Introduction

My world shattered when Julian Thorne repaid my ultimate sacrifice with cold betrayal.

For nine agonizing times, I, Elara, a Life Weaver, poured my very essence into saving him from death, only for him to credit his scheming lover, Cassie Dane.

After my ninth, desperate act of healing, he heartlessly ripped my family's sacred amulet from my neck, leaving me to die, forgotten.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans, and I found myself gasping alive in my remote Ozarks cabin for a second chance.

When Julian's deadly illness re-emerged, and his desperate family came knocking, I calmly delivered my firm "No," refusing to become his victim a tenth time.

Yet, Julian, now deeply ensnared by Cassie, wouldn't accept my refusal, escalating his malice beyond measure.

He married Cassie, then, with savage glee, knowingly drove his ATV through my vital medicinal garden, shattering my rare healing plants.

His malevolence reached its horrific peak when he commanded his guards to systematically destroy my hands, the very conduits of my healing power, then pinned my hand to the porch with a hunting knife while Cassie livestreamed my screaming agony.

How could the man I sacrificially loved become such a monster, so blind to truth, so twisted by a toxic parasite he called love, that he would try to utterly obliterate my very essence?

Just as he raised the knife again to disfigure my face, the very earth rebelled.

An ancient chandelier, a symbol of his family's past, crashed from the ceiling directly onto him, a swift and brutal karmic judgment that finally, truly, set me free.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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