Too Blind To See The True Lumina

Too Blind To See The True Lumina

Gavin

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I was Ellie Vance, living a quiet life, secretly the Grand Lumina, wielding immense power I called The Radiance. For years, I poured my very essence into Michael Thorne, elevating his career, believing our deep love meant a future as husband and wife. Then, I overheard him plotting his political marriage to Victoria Ashworth, and the horrifying truth hit me: I was merely his "Pure Spring essence," a convenient resource to be exploited, dismissed, and discarded. The betrayal was a relentless, agonizing assault: Michael left me to nearly drown for Victoria' s feigned stumble, physically forced my healing blood from my arm for her, and let her flaunt the Heartstone Locket he' d given only to me. He watched while his friends mocked me, then heartlessly tore the treasured bracelet he' d made for me from my wrist to buy her a trinket. Finally, he callously struck me, leaving me bruised and trapped after fabricating an attack, instantly believing Victoria' s vile lies. How could the man I loved and sacrificed everything for be so utterly blind, so profoundly callous, so unspeakably cruel? My unwavering devotion, my secret, immense power, my very identity, had all been meticulously used as a mere stepping stone for his ambition, reducing me to a disposable tool. But the pain, the incandescent rage, the profound destruction of my world, forged an unyielding strength within me. No longer just timid Ellie Vance, I returned to the High Sanctum, severing every last emotional thread binding me to Michael Thorne. I strode into his lavish wedding, not as The Grand Lumina, but as the "simple Ellie" he so disdained, utterly prepared to shatter his carefully constructed facade. My name is Elara, and from the ashes of his monumental betrayal, my true ascension had just begun.

Introduction

I was Ellie Vance, living a quiet life, secretly the Grand Lumina, wielding immense power I called The Radiance.

For years, I poured my very essence into Michael Thorne, elevating his career, believing our deep love meant a future as husband and wife.

Then, I overheard him plotting his political marriage to Victoria Ashworth, and the horrifying truth hit me: I was merely his "Pure Spring essence," a convenient resource to be exploited, dismissed, and discarded.

The betrayal was a relentless, agonizing assault: Michael left me to nearly drown for Victoria' s feigned stumble, physically forced my healing blood from my arm for her, and let her flaunt the Heartstone Locket he' d given only to me.

He watched while his friends mocked me, then heartlessly tore the treasured bracelet he' d made for me from my wrist to buy her a trinket.

Finally, he callously struck me, leaving me bruised and trapped after fabricating an attack, instantly believing Victoria' s vile lies.

How could the man I loved and sacrificed everything for be so utterly blind, so profoundly callous, so unspeakably cruel?

My unwavering devotion, my secret, immense power, my very identity, had all been meticulously used as a mere stepping stone for his ambition, reducing me to a disposable tool.

But the pain, the incandescent rage, the profound destruction of my world, forged an unyielding strength within me.

No longer just timid Ellie Vance, I returned to the High Sanctum, severing every last emotional thread binding me to Michael Thorne.

I strode into his lavish wedding, not as The Grand Lumina, but as the "simple Ellie" he so disdained, utterly prepared to shatter his carefully constructed facade.

My name is Elara, and from the ashes of his monumental betrayal, my true ascension had just begun.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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5.0

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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