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When Love Became A Larceny

When Love Became A Larceny

Gavin

5.0
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11
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My tech company was at its peak – celebrated, successful. For twenty years, I believed my marriage to Bella was just the same: perfect. We had two sons, Mark and Alex, my pride and joy, the heirs to everything I had built. Then, at fifty, Bella lay dying in a sterile hospital bed. Her rasping voice delivered the blow that pulverized my world: "Ethan," she whispered, "the boys... they' re not yours. They' re Ryan' s." My heart squeezed, then shattered. My own sons, whom I loved more than life, turned on me instantly, their eyes cold and calculating. They saw Ryan, their biological father, not as a long-lost parent, but as a direct route to my wealth, reducing me to nothing but a disposable obstacle. In the brutal inheritance struggle that followed, the very boys I' d raised beat me to death. I gasped for air, my heart giving out under the crushing weight of their betrayal, my world built on a twenty-year lie crumbling to dust. How could I have been so utterly blind? My final thought was of profound regret, a desperate, yearning wish for another chance to live life differently, to choose another path. Then, darkness. But instead of an afterlife, I jolted awake, alive, younger, surrounded by the pulsing chaos of an SXSW party. Standing before me, vibrant and deceptively innocent, was Bella, dropping to one knee, a champagne flute raised, asking me to marry her. This was my impossible second chance. And this time, with the bitter truth of twenty years flooding my mind, I knew exactly what to say.

Introduction

My tech company was at its peak – celebrated, successful. For twenty years, I believed my marriage to Bella was just the same: perfect.

We had two sons, Mark and Alex, my pride and joy, the heirs to everything I had built.

Then, at fifty, Bella lay dying in a sterile hospital bed.

Her rasping voice delivered the blow that pulverized my world: "Ethan," she whispered, "the boys... they' re not yours. They' re Ryan' s."

My heart squeezed, then shattered.

My own sons, whom I loved more than life, turned on me instantly, their eyes cold and calculating.

They saw Ryan, their biological father, not as a long-lost parent, but as a direct route to my wealth, reducing me to nothing but a disposable obstacle.

In the brutal inheritance struggle that followed, the very boys I' d raised beat me to death. I gasped for air, my heart giving out under the crushing weight of their betrayal, my world built on a twenty-year lie crumbling to dust.

How could I have been so utterly blind? My final thought was of profound regret, a desperate, yearning wish for another chance to live life differently, to choose another path.

Then, darkness. But instead of an afterlife, I jolted awake, alive, younger, surrounded by the pulsing chaos of an SXSW party.

Standing before me, vibrant and deceptively innocent, was Bella, dropping to one knee, a champagne flute raised, asking me to marry her.

This was my impossible second chance. And this time, with the bitter truth of twenty years flooding my mind, I knew exactly what to say.

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Not Just a Horse: The CEO's Unstoppable Revenge

Not Just a Horse: The CEO's Unstoppable Revenge

Short stories

5.0

The quarterly board meeting was standard, a high-stakes, productive morning for me, Scarlett King, CEO of King Global. My phone vibrated discreetly on the mahogany, a text from my oldest friend, Maria, flashing urgently across the screen. "Scarlett. Urgent. Check this link. I'm so sorry." The link opened an Instagram reel, and my blood ran ice cold. It was Desert Mirage, my champion Arabian stallion-a treasured legacy from my grandfather-terrified, his magnificent coat matted with cheap glitter. A woman, Tiffany Starr, brutally yanked his reins. Then, sickeningly, my husband Ethan's laugh echoed, encouraging her. The caption seared: "Ethan says I can handle anything! Even this rich bitch's pony." My hands clenched. When I called, Ethan sounded annoyed. "Scarlett? Tiffany was just having fun. He's just a horse." He hung up, dismissing me as "uptight" to someone nearby, the line going dead. "Just a horse." My horse. My legacy. He dismissed it. He dismissed me. He sided with her. This wasn't mere abuse; it was a public desecration of my soul's depth, my family's legacy. The humiliation was a raw, physical ache, hardening into cold, pure fury. This was more than betrayal; it was a declaration of war. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. My mind honed to laser focus. I buzzed Marcus, my head of security. "Tiffany Starr is at the Chateau Marmont. Remove her. Publicly. Serve a restraining order. Revoke all King Global studio access." They wanted a war. They would get one they'd regret.

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Billionaire's Regret, Too Late!

Billionaire's Regret, Too Late!

Ela Osaretin
5.0

"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

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