Where Love Died

Where Love Died

Gavin

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My life was perfect, or so I thought. Married for five blissful years to Ethan, the powerful CEO who publicly adored me, making me feel like his most cherished person, his greatest weakness. I believed him; I loved him with a fierce passion, a love I sincerely thought he returned. Then, one evening, I overheard his voice-low, serious-uttering words that shattered my entire world: "If I don't make Sarah the obvious target, how can Olivia continue her work in those conflict zones without becoming a pawn?" Olivia. His childhood sweetheart. Suddenly, all the "accidents"-the car bombings, the kidnappings, the trauma-fell into place; I was merely a decoy, a pawn in his twisted game to shield her. But the true horror unfurled when I painstakingly bypassed his "impenetrable" security and hacked into his private digital journal. Page after page, it boasted of his profound, yearning love for Olivia, followed by chilling entries about me: "Found the perfect candidate today. Sarah Jenkins. Intelligent, beautiful, but with a vulnerability I can exploit. She'll be a convincing decoy." He' d orchestrated my terror; he' d cultivated my dependence. The ultimate betrayal? "Sarah miscarried," he wrote. "A pity, in a way. But perhaps for the best. A child would complicate things with Olivia." His chilling indifference to our lost child, to my deepest grief, tore me apart. My love for him curdled into a cold, hard resolve, realizing I wasn't just a pawn, but a recipient of painful hand-me-downs, my deepest sufferings cruelly manipulated for his cruel agenda. How could the man I loved be such a monster? Yet, the shock quickly gave way to a steely determination. Ethan thought I was his unsuspecting wife, his perfect decoy. He didn't know the cybersecurity analyst I' d been, the skills I still possessed. I would play the loving wife, enduring his touch, while meticulously plotting my escape and, ultimately, his downfall.

Introduction

My life was perfect, or so I thought.

Married for five blissful years to Ethan, the powerful CEO who publicly adored me, making me feel like his most cherished person, his greatest weakness.

I believed him; I loved him with a fierce passion, a love I sincerely thought he returned.

Then, one evening, I overheard his voice-low, serious-uttering words that shattered my entire world: "If I don't make Sarah the obvious target, how can Olivia continue her work in those conflict zones without becoming a pawn?"

Olivia. His childhood sweetheart.

Suddenly, all the "accidents"-the car bombings, the kidnappings, the trauma-fell into place; I was merely a decoy, a pawn in his twisted game to shield her.

But the true horror unfurled when I painstakingly bypassed his "impenetrable" security and hacked into his private digital journal.

Page after page, it boasted of his profound, yearning love for Olivia, followed by chilling entries about me: "Found the perfect candidate today. Sarah Jenkins. Intelligent, beautiful, but with a vulnerability I can exploit. She'll be a convincing decoy."

He' d orchestrated my terror; he' d cultivated my dependence.

The ultimate betrayal?

"Sarah miscarried," he wrote. "A pity, in a way. But perhaps for the best. A child would complicate things with Olivia."

His chilling indifference to our lost child, to my deepest grief, tore me apart.

My love for him curdled into a cold, hard resolve, realizing I wasn't just a pawn, but a recipient of painful hand-me-downs, my deepest sufferings cruelly manipulated for his cruel agenda.

How could the man I loved be such a monster?

Yet, the shock quickly gave way to a steely determination.

Ethan thought I was his unsuspecting wife, his perfect decoy.

He didn't know the cybersecurity analyst I' d been, the skills I still possessed.

I would play the loving wife, enduring his touch, while meticulously plotting my escape and, ultimately, his downfall.

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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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I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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