His Unwanted Wife's Redemption

His Unwanted Wife's Redemption

Gavin

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The poison tasted like bitter almonds and the bitter truth of thirty years. I was Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a fortune, and I lay dying. My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, a mask of indifference I'd known for three decades. Thirty years shackled to a man I' d loved with fierce passion, then forced into a marriage he never wanted. Our life together was a wasteland of resentment, his heart always belonging to Brittany Larson. Now, he was finally free. With my last ounce of strength, I lunged, plunging a letter opener into his chest. His gasp was raw, his eyes wide, not with anger, but profound, heartbreaking sorrow. "Ash, no," he choked out, pressing a vial to my lips. "It wasn't me. I was trying to help you. Antidote... someone else..." He slumped beside me, the vial rolling away, his last words echoing as the world went dark. Misunderstanding. A monstrous, colossal misunderstanding. I had just killed the man who had been trying to save me all along. Then, I awoke with a gasp, the scent of salt air filling my lungs. My head throbbed, and the sunlight streamed through the familiar Hamptons beach house window. It was the morning after I had cornered Ethan, leveraging every Vanderbilt debt, forcing him to propose. Thirty years before I died. Rebirth. It was real. I was back. The crushing weight of that final, horrifying revelation pressed down on me. This time, I would break the cycle of misery. I would free him from a marriage he never wanted. And this time, I would choose myself.

Introduction

The poison tasted like bitter almonds and the bitter truth of thirty years.

I was Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a fortune, and I lay dying.

My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, a mask of indifference I'd known for three decades.

Thirty years shackled to a man I' d loved with fierce passion, then forced into a marriage he never wanted.

Our life together was a wasteland of resentment, his heart always belonging to Brittany Larson.

Now, he was finally free.

With my last ounce of strength, I lunged, plunging a letter opener into his chest.

His gasp was raw, his eyes wide, not with anger, but profound, heartbreaking sorrow.

"Ash, no," he choked out, pressing a vial to my lips. "It wasn't me. I was trying to help you. Antidote... someone else..."

He slumped beside me, the vial rolling away, his last words echoing as the world went dark.

Misunderstanding. A monstrous, colossal misunderstanding.

I had just killed the man who had been trying to save me all along.

Then, I awoke with a gasp, the scent of salt air filling my lungs.

My head throbbed, and the sunlight streamed through the familiar Hamptons beach house window.

It was the morning after I had cornered Ethan, leveraging every Vanderbilt debt, forcing him to propose.

Thirty years before I died.

Rebirth. It was real. I was back.

The crushing weight of that final, horrifying revelation pressed down on me.

This time, I would break the cycle of misery.

I would free him from a marriage he never wanted.

And this time, I would choose myself.

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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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