His Last Regret: Unmade

His Last Regret: Unmade

Gavin

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The city festival lights blurred, then the world exploded into screams and dust. Liam was on top of me, saving me again, for the third time. But this time, his last words, choked out with blood, were not what I expected. "If only... I had never met you." Ten years of a cold marriage, of my unrequited love, ended with that brutal, devastating line. At his funeral, his mother's sharp voice cut through my grief: "He died because of you. Always you." The whispers followed me out of the church, society agreeing I was the reason Liam Walker, the city's golden boy, was dead at thirty-three. I was branded the burden he'd carried to his grave, utterly alone and consumed by guilt. Liam's words echoed, haunting me: "If only I had never met you." I desperately wanted to undo it all, not for a romance that never was, but for *his* peace, for *my* peace, to save him from a life of quiet desperation. Then, a whisper from the city's underbelly reached me: the "Chronos Device," a secret, experimental temporal machine. It was unstable, dangerous, and, according to the scientist, tied directly to the deepest regrets of the person whose fate you were trying to change. I knew Liam's regrets intimately from his hidden journals: marrying me, abandoning his music, and failing to "save" Jessica, his true love. Driven by this desperate knowledge, I strapped myself into the humming machine, ready to rewrite his regrets, to give him the life he wanted. Even if it meant erasing myself from his life and future forever.

Introduction

The city festival lights blurred, then the world exploded into screams and dust.

Liam was on top of me, saving me again, for the third time.

But this time, his last words, choked out with blood, were not what I expected.

"If only... I had never met you."

Ten years of a cold marriage, of my unrequited love, ended with that brutal, devastating line.

At his funeral, his mother's sharp voice cut through my grief: "He died because of you. Always you."

The whispers followed me out of the church, society agreeing I was the reason Liam Walker, the city's golden boy, was dead at thirty-three.

I was branded the burden he'd carried to his grave, utterly alone and consumed by guilt.

Liam's words echoed, haunting me: "If only I had never met you."

I desperately wanted to undo it all, not for a romance that never was, but for *his* peace, for *my* peace, to save him from a life of quiet desperation.

Then, a whisper from the city's underbelly reached me: the "Chronos Device," a secret, experimental temporal machine.

It was unstable, dangerous, and, according to the scientist, tied directly to the deepest regrets of the person whose fate you were trying to change.

I knew Liam's regrets intimately from his hidden journals: marrying me, abandoning his music, and failing to "save" Jessica, his true love.

Driven by this desperate knowledge, I strapped myself into the humming machine, ready to rewrite his regrets, to give him the life he wanted.

Even if it meant erasing myself from his life and future forever.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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