From Fallen Star to Power Couple

From Fallen Star to Power Couple

Gavin

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My life was perfect, the American dream within reach. I was Ash Carter, engaged to Ethan Miller, our star quarterback, future NFL legend. We had it all mapped out: the big house, the easy life, the picture-perfect wedding. Then, in a brutal flash, it all imploded. An ACL tear, career-ending complications. Ethan, my golden boy, was broken. His father disgraced. My mother, Karen, wasted no time. "You have to break it off, Ashley," she commanded, her voice cutting, practical. He was a "liability," a "nobody." The dreams of wealth and connections she envisioned for me vanished with his ruined knee. I felt sick, my stomach churning at the thought of the conversation to come. I knew she was right, didn't I? For my future. For her sanity. My thumb hovered over Ethan's name, ready to end it. Then, my phone buzzed wildly, not a call, but bright, blocky letters flashing across my vision like a game interface. `GAME FEED: CRITICAL CHOICE!` `ABANDONING ETHAN MILLER NOW = 'TRAGIC SPINSTER' BAD ENDING. DETAILS: Social ruin, crushing debt, lonely cat lady. Forty cats. Minimum.` My blood ran cold. Was this real? `ETHAN MILLER IS PROPHESIED TO ACHIEVE UNEXPECTED GREATNESS. STAY THE COURSE FOR 'POWER COUPLE' GOOD ENDING. DETAILS: Influence, respect, true partnership. Legendary status.` My life was a game? The words "forty cats" burned behind my eyes. Looking at Ethan, broken on the couch, the breakup words died. Fear, stark and overwhelming, took hold. The path was terrifyingly clear. And I had to play.

Introduction

My life was perfect, the American dream within reach.

I was Ash Carter, engaged to Ethan Miller, our star quarterback, future NFL legend.

We had it all mapped out: the big house, the easy life, the picture-perfect wedding.

Then, in a brutal flash, it all imploded.

An ACL tear, career-ending complications.

Ethan, my golden boy, was broken. His father disgraced.

My mother, Karen, wasted no time.

"You have to break it off, Ashley," she commanded, her voice cutting, practical.

He was a "liability," a "nobody."

The dreams of wealth and connections she envisioned for me vanished with his ruined knee.

I felt sick, my stomach churning at the thought of the conversation to come.

I knew she was right, didn't I? For my future. For her sanity.

My thumb hovered over Ethan's name, ready to end it.

Then, my phone buzzed wildly, not a call, but bright, blocky letters flashing across my vision like a game interface.

`GAME FEED: CRITICAL CHOICE!`

`ABANDONING ETHAN MILLER NOW = 'TRAGIC SPINSTER' BAD ENDING. DETAILS: Social ruin, crushing debt, lonely cat lady. Forty cats. Minimum.`

My blood ran cold. Was this real?

`ETHAN MILLER IS PROPHESIED TO ACHIEVE UNEXPECTED GREATNESS. STAY THE COURSE FOR 'POWER COUPLE' GOOD ENDING. DETAILS: Influence, respect, true partnership. Legendary status.`

My life was a game? The words "forty cats" burned behind my eyes.

Looking at Ethan, broken on the couch, the breakup words died.

Fear, stark and overwhelming, took hold.

The path was terrifyingly clear.

And I had to play.

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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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