Where Concrete Daisies Bloom

Where Concrete Daisies Bloom

Gavin

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I' d finally done it. My resignation letter officially landed on Mr. Henderson' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless period on years of being Ethan Cole' s secret convenience. But freedom was fleeting. Isabella, his fiancée and my tormentor, summoned me to Ethan' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch of mine like a weapon, then slapped me clean across the face. Ethan arrived, and instead of defending me, he smoothed Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing me as someone who "meant nothing" -just "a release." Emboldened, Isabella snatched my portfolio, spilling my architectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouring red wine directly onto them, staining my future crimson. Ethan then tossed a wad of cash at my feet, his voice flat: "For the dry cleaning. Now get out." I stumbled out into the New York downpour, each raindrop a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humiliation of being so utterly worthless to the man I' d loved. How could he, the center of my naive world, watch as my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then casually toss money as if I were a broken possession? But in that deepest moment of despair, something snapped. I was done being their discarded convenience, their emotional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life where my peace wasn' t for sale, no matter what it took.

Introduction

I' d finally done it.

My resignation letter officially landed on Mr. Henderson' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless period on years of being Ethan Cole' s secret convenience.

But freedom was fleeting.

Isabella, his fiancée and my tormentor, summoned me to Ethan' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch of mine like a weapon, then slapped me clean across the face.

Ethan arrived, and instead of defending me, he smoothed Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing me as someone who "meant nothing" -just "a release."

Emboldened, Isabella snatched my portfolio, spilling my architectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouring red wine directly onto them, staining my future crimson.

Ethan then tossed a wad of cash at my feet, his voice flat: "For the dry cleaning. Now get out."

I stumbled out into the New York downpour, each raindrop a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humiliation of being so utterly worthless to the man I' d loved.

How could he, the center of my naive world, watch as my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then casually toss money as if I were a broken possession?

But in that deepest moment of despair, something snapped.

I was done being their discarded convenience, their emotional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life where my peace wasn' t for sale, no matter what it took.

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Five Years' Love, Shattered by a Call

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5.0

My wedding to Ethan, the man I’d loved for five years, was weeks away. Everything was set for our future, a beautifully planned life together. Then the call came: Ethan’s high school sweetheart, Chloe, was found with severe amnesia, still believing she was his girlfriend. Ethan postponed our wedding, asked me to pretend to be his brother Liam’s girlfriend, insisting it was "for Chloe’s sake." I endured quiet agony watching him relive their past, his every loving gesture now for her. Chloe’s Instagram became a public shrine to their "rekindled" love, #TrueLove emblazoned everywhere. I even found a groundbreaking clinic for Chloe, hoping for an end, but Ethan brushed it off. Then, I overheard him: I was just a "placeholder," a "good sport" who would wait, because I had "nowhere else to go." Five years of my life, my love, my loyalty, reduced to a disposable convenience. The cold, calculated betrayal punched the air from my lungs. He thought I was trapped, that he could use me at will, then return to me, expecting gratitude. Numb, I stumbled. And then, I met Liam, Ethan’s quiet brother. "I need to get married, Liam. To someone. Soon." The words escaped me. Liam, who had watched silently, responded: "What if I said I'd marry you, Ava? For real." A dangerous, desperate plan ignited within me, fueled by pain and a fierce desire for reckoning. "Alright, Liam," I declared, a new resolve hardening my voice. "But I have conditions: Ethan must be your Best Man, and he must give me away at the altar." The charade was about to begin, but now, it was on my terms. And Ethan had no idea the bride was truly me.

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