The Runaway Wife's Resolve

The Runaway Wife's Resolve

Gavin

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My life with Ethan was a dream. High school sweethearts, married five years, he was a charismatic tech mogul, and I loved him deeply. Then, I got pregnant, and he seemed absolutely over the moon, especially when we learned it was twins. That dream shattered when I overheard a hushed conversation between Ethan and our fancy OB-GYN. He was demanding an early C-section for me-not for my health, but to align with his mistress Chloe's due date. The "twins" he cried tears of joy over? One was hers, a sickening ploy to pass off her baby as ours for a crucial inheritance. My world tilted on its axis as I discovered I was only carrying one healthy baby. His tearful joy, his endless doting-every cherished moment was a well-rehearsed performance. When I fled, he staged a massive "missing person" search, dragging me back to his hospital while still talking about our "high-risk twins" to control me. Then, on our wedding anniversary, I found him with Chloe, kissing her passionately, planning their wedding right there in the hospital wing he always steered me away from. How could the man I'd loved for a decade be such a monstrous deceiver, using my body, my pregnancy, and my life as pawns in his twisted game? The hypocrisy burned, the casual cruelty a punch to the gut. Everyone around him, even our doctor, was complicit in this horrifying web of lies. But as I watched his humiliating, live-streamed "wedding" to his mistress from my hospital bed, my heartbreak hardened into icy resolve. I finally understood the extent of his betrayal, and that very realization ignited a fierce determination within me. I signed the divorce papers, ready to escape this gilded cage and fight for my freedom and my child's future, no matter the cost.

Introduction

My life with Ethan was a dream.

High school sweethearts, married five years, he was a charismatic tech mogul, and I loved him deeply.

Then, I got pregnant, and he seemed absolutely over the moon, especially when we learned it was twins.

That dream shattered when I overheard a hushed conversation between Ethan and our fancy OB-GYN.

He was demanding an early C-section for me-not for my health, but to align with his mistress Chloe's due date.

The "twins" he cried tears of joy over? One was hers, a sickening ploy to pass off her baby as ours for a crucial inheritance.

My world tilted on its axis as I discovered I was only carrying one healthy baby.

His tearful joy, his endless doting-every cherished moment was a well-rehearsed performance.

When I fled, he staged a massive "missing person" search, dragging me back to his hospital while still talking about our "high-risk twins" to control me.

Then, on our wedding anniversary, I found him with Chloe, kissing her passionately, planning their wedding right there in the hospital wing he always steered me away from.

How could the man I'd loved for a decade be such a monstrous deceiver, using my body, my pregnancy, and my life as pawns in his twisted game?

The hypocrisy burned, the casual cruelty a punch to the gut.

Everyone around him, even our doctor, was complicit in this horrifying web of lies.

But as I watched his humiliating, live-streamed "wedding" to his mistress from my hospital bed, my heartbreak hardened into icy resolve.

I finally understood the extent of his betrayal, and that very realization ignited a fierce determination within me.

I signed the divorce papers, ready to escape this gilded cage and fight for my freedom and my child's future, no matter the cost.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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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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Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

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