The Taste of Sweet Karma

The Taste of Sweet Karma

Gavin

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For seven years, I was his eyes, his hands, his constant companion. I nursed Ethan through his blindness, celebrated his sight's return, and eventually became his lover. I truly believed our bond, forged in his darkness and my unwavering devotion, was unbreakable. But in the quiet bubble of his Escalade, I clearly understood every crisp Spanish word he spoke into his tablet. He told his best friend, Ben, that his elopement with Victoria, the woman who abandoned him when he went blind, was set for tomorrow. He chuckled, assuring Ben, "Sarah doesn't need to know. She'll always be there. She's not going anywhere." My breath hitched as Vicky's brazen Instagram pictures of her marriage license confirmed their triumph, dated that very morning. He barely registered my presence, quick to dismiss me, focused only on a message from his new wife. At my own birthday party, Victoria gifted me a yapping Chihuahua, deliberately playing on my deep-seated trauma from a childhood dog attack. Ethan pressured me to accept it, blind to my terror, then watched as I was drenched and cut by a collapsing champagne tower, shielding Victoria instead of me. Seven years of sacrifice, of pouring my soul into his recovery, all reduced to a casual dismissal and a public humiliation. How could he betray me so utterly, so casually, after all I'd done, after I gave him back his world? My love wasn't a doormat, and he was wrong. He thought I'd always be there, but this was the final breaking point. I would sever this tie that had become a chain and disappear. I would contact Eleanor Hayes, his powerful mother, to help me vanish, for good.

Introduction

For seven years, I was his eyes, his hands, his constant companion.

I nursed Ethan through his blindness, celebrated his sight's return, and eventually became his lover.

I truly believed our bond, forged in his darkness and my unwavering devotion, was unbreakable.

But in the quiet bubble of his Escalade, I clearly understood every crisp Spanish word he spoke into his tablet.

He told his best friend, Ben, that his elopement with Victoria, the woman who abandoned him when he went blind, was set for tomorrow.

He chuckled, assuring Ben, "Sarah doesn't need to know. She'll always be there. She's not going anywhere."

My breath hitched as Vicky's brazen Instagram pictures of her marriage license confirmed their triumph, dated that very morning.

He barely registered my presence, quick to dismiss me, focused only on a message from his new wife.

At my own birthday party, Victoria gifted me a yapping Chihuahua, deliberately playing on my deep-seated trauma from a childhood dog attack.

Ethan pressured me to accept it, blind to my terror, then watched as I was drenched and cut by a collapsing champagne tower, shielding Victoria instead of me.

Seven years of sacrifice, of pouring my soul into his recovery, all reduced to a casual dismissal and a public humiliation.

How could he betray me so utterly, so casually, after all I'd done, after I gave him back his world?

My love wasn't a doormat, and he was wrong.

He thought I'd always be there, but this was the final breaking point.

I would sever this tie that had become a chain and disappear.

I would contact Eleanor Hayes, his powerful mother, to help me vanish, for good.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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