Isabelle's Downfall: A Twisted Love Story

Isabelle's Downfall: A Twisted Love Story

Gavin

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Tomorrow, I, Ethan Reed, was set to marry Isabelle Davenport, the exquisite old-money bride who promised a future of prestige and endless possibilities. Our lavish rehearsal dinner glowed with anticipation, my parents beaming with pride as their "new money" son married into established aristocracy. Then, a chilling phone call shattered everything. "I'm pregnant, Ethan," Isabelle whispered, "It's Liam's." My world tilted, instantly replaced by a wave of nausea and disbelief. She didn't stop there. Isabelle demanded I postpone the wedding indefinitely, quit my career to support them, and even insisted their relationship be openly acknowledged, with Liam, her step-brother and the baby's father, moving into our condo. The next indignity: she had my belongings, including my beloved grandmother's irreplaceable quilt, dumped on the curb, then maliciously desecrated the quilt itself with cigarette burns. The final blow came when Liam staged a pathetic suicide attempt, and Isabelle, her eyes blazing, tried to force me to apologize, even offering me a letter opener to "understand his pain" by cutting myself. How could the woman I loved be so utterly manipulative, so cruelly deluded? My future, meticulously planned, lay in toxic ruins. But amidst the devastation, a memory resurfaced, a lifeline in the darkness. Today was my 30th birthday. And a childhood pact with my best friend, Chloe: "If you hit the big three-oh still single, Ethan Reed, you're mine. We marry each other. Deal?" Just as I stood broken, she appeared, the small gift in her hand, her eyes clear and steady. "A deal's a deal, Ethan," she said, cutting through the ash of my ruined life. "Marry me, Ethan. In three days. I'll handle everything."

Introduction

Tomorrow, I, Ethan Reed, was set to marry Isabelle Davenport, the exquisite old-money bride who promised a future of prestige and endless possibilities.

Our lavish rehearsal dinner glowed with anticipation, my parents beaming with pride as their "new money" son married into established aristocracy.

Then, a chilling phone call shattered everything.

"I'm pregnant, Ethan," Isabelle whispered, "It's Liam's."

My world tilted, instantly replaced by a wave of nausea and disbelief.

She didn't stop there.

Isabelle demanded I postpone the wedding indefinitely, quit my career to support them, and even insisted their relationship be openly acknowledged, with Liam, her step-brother and the baby's father, moving into our condo.

The next indignity: she had my belongings, including my beloved grandmother's irreplaceable quilt, dumped on the curb, then maliciously desecrated the quilt itself with cigarette burns.

The final blow came when Liam staged a pathetic suicide attempt, and Isabelle, her eyes blazing, tried to force me to apologize, even offering me a letter opener to "understand his pain" by cutting myself.

How could the woman I loved be so utterly manipulative, so cruelly deluded?

My future, meticulously planned, lay in toxic ruins.

But amidst the devastation, a memory resurfaced, a lifeline in the darkness.

Today was my 30th birthday.

And a childhood pact with my best friend, Chloe: "If you hit the big three-oh still single, Ethan Reed, you're mine. We marry each other. Deal?"

Just as I stood broken, she appeared, the small gift in her hand, her eyes clear and steady.

"A deal's a deal, Ethan," she said, cutting through the ash of my ruined life.

"Marry me, Ethan. In three days. I'll handle 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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