The Unwanted Wife's Ultimatum

The Unwanted Wife's Ultimatum

Gavin

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I was seven months pregnant, a text from my distant husband, Ethan, promised a New Year's Eve "surprise." I desperately hoped it was a chance to mend our fraying marriage before the baby. But stepping into the upscale lounge, the "surprise" became my worst nightmare. Ethan was intimately draped around his executive assistant, Lily Vance, who was brazenly wearing my designer gown. His friends snickered, their amusement signaling my reaction was the only surprise. When confronted, Ethan showed no remorse, just cold annoyance. Lily gloated that my dress looked better on her. Then Ethan cruelly dismissed me, claiming I couldn't satisfy him, calling me "not exactly arousing." Lily sneered he needed "a real woman, not a... vessel." Overcome, I vomited, splattering her stolen dress. She shoved me, I fell, hitting a table, and my water broke. "The baby!" I gasped, but Lily convinced Ethan I was faking. He dragged me to a VIP restroom, locked me inside, dismissing my pleas for help as "drama." Alone, trapped, in agonizing labor, my phone lost, I heard their indifferent laughter, their intimacy, through the door. Hours later, strangers found me, covered in blood, barely breathing. I woke in a hospital, heart-shattering truth: my baby girl was stillborn. And Ethan, the man who'd built an empire with me, had blocked the hospital's desperate calls about our child. His utter callousness, his active neglect in our daughter's death, burned away every last shred of loyalty. He would not, could not, get away with this. In that sterile room, a cold, pure resolve ignited: he would pay for everything.

Introduction

I was seven months pregnant, a text from my distant husband, Ethan, promised a New Year's Eve "surprise."

I desperately hoped it was a chance to mend our fraying marriage before the baby.

But stepping into the upscale lounge, the "surprise" became my worst nightmare.

Ethan was intimately draped around his executive assistant, Lily Vance, who was brazenly wearing my designer gown.

His friends snickered, their amusement signaling my reaction was the only surprise.

When confronted, Ethan showed no remorse, just cold annoyance.

Lily gloated that my dress looked better on her.

Then Ethan cruelly dismissed me, claiming I couldn't satisfy him, calling me "not exactly arousing."

Lily sneered he needed "a real woman, not a... vessel."

Overcome, I vomited, splattering her stolen dress.

She shoved me, I fell, hitting a table, and my water broke.

"The baby!" I gasped, but Lily convinced Ethan I was faking.

He dragged me to a VIP restroom, locked me inside, dismissing my pleas for help as "drama."

Alone, trapped, in agonizing labor, my phone lost, I heard their indifferent laughter, their intimacy, through the door.

Hours later, strangers found me, covered in blood, barely breathing.

I woke in a hospital, heart-shattering truth: my baby girl was stillborn.

And Ethan, the man who'd built an empire with me, had blocked the hospital's desperate calls about our child.

His utter callousness, his active neglect in our daughter's death, burned away every last shred of loyalty.

He would not, could not, get away with this.

In that sterile room, a cold, pure resolve ignited: he would pay for everything.

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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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