From The Dead: A Billionaire\'s Revenge

From The Dead: A Billionaire\'s Revenge

Gavin

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The Nevada desert trip with my adoptive parents, Richard and Linda, was meant to be a relaxing break from my Seattle game studio life. Then a drifter, "K," whispered something chilling to them; their faces instantly turned cold, demanding I sign over my multi-million dollar company to him. I laughed, thinking it a joke, but their terrifying insistence quickly proved it was real. Alone at the rented casita, Linda handed me a drugged beer, and the world went fuzzy. My own parents dragged me off, delivering me to a brutal woman who tortured me in a remote trailer, breaking my legs. Days passed in grinding agony, K taunting me about destiny, until I died there on the dirty floor. What impossible words had K whispered, what monstrous secret could turn my family into my destroyers? Consumed by this horrifying betrayal, I died without an answer. Then, I gasped and awoke, whole and unbroken, back in the casita. My legs moved freely, the desert sun warm on my face. It was the morning of the trip, the day K would reappear, and I had somehow been granted a second chance to fight.

Introduction

The Nevada desert trip with my adoptive parents, Richard and Linda, was meant to be a relaxing break from my Seattle game studio life.

Then a drifter, "K," whispered something chilling to them; their faces instantly turned cold, demanding I sign over my multi-million dollar company to him.

I laughed, thinking it a joke, but their terrifying insistence quickly proved it was real.

Alone at the rented casita, Linda handed me a drugged beer, and the world went fuzzy.

My own parents dragged me off, delivering me to a brutal woman who tortured me in a remote trailer, breaking my legs.

Days passed in grinding agony, K taunting me about destiny, until I died there on the dirty floor.

What impossible words had K whispered, what monstrous secret could turn my family into my destroyers?

Consumed by this horrifying betrayal, I died without an answer.

Then, I gasped and awoke, whole and unbroken, back in the casita.

My legs moved freely, the desert sun warm on my face.

It was the morning of the trip, the day K would reappear, and I had somehow been granted a second chance to fight.

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The Truth About His Mistress

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I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

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