Her Two Lives: From Maine to Manhattan

Her Two Lives: From Maine to Manhattan

Gavin

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I was a simple fisherman from Maine. I saved a girl named Izzy from a shipwreck, and in her amnesia, we built a pure, simple love. We promised each other forever by the salty sea. Years later, the woman who looked exactly like my Izzy, now the formidable heiress Isabelle Sterling, summoned me to New York. But this Isabelle was cold, distant, and chillingly allowed her aggressive fiancé, Preston, to repeatedly brutalize me. She kept me confined in her luxurious penthouse, a gilded cage far from my home. Preston had me beaten in an alley, smashed my jaw, and even framed me for assault, sending me to Rikers Island for a brutal month. Isabelle watched, seemingly unmoved, later bringing me back only to keep me under her watchful eye. My health was failing, constant headaches and blurred vision plaguing me, but I clung to the hope that my real Izzy was truly out there, fighting for her family, plotting our reunion. "My Izzy would never abandon me," I' d whisper, constantly denying this powerful, callous Isabelle was the girl I loved. Why was she letting this happen to me? Was the Izzy I knew gone, or just buried under layers of New York ambition? Then, at a glittering gala, as Isabelle triumphantly exposed Preston' s crimes and shockingly announced our engagement, he screamed the devastating truth: "She IS Izzy! She abandoned you for power! And she' s using you again!" The world spun, my carefully constructed reality crumbled, and the full weight of her betrayal, coupled with a crushing pain, brought me to my knees.

Introduction

I was a simple fisherman from Maine.

I saved a girl named Izzy from a shipwreck, and in her amnesia, we built a pure, simple love.

We promised each other forever by the salty sea.

Years later, the woman who looked exactly like my Izzy, now the formidable heiress Isabelle Sterling, summoned me to New York.

But this Isabelle was cold, distant, and chillingly allowed her aggressive fiancé, Preston, to repeatedly brutalize me.

She kept me confined in her luxurious penthouse, a gilded cage far from my home.

Preston had me beaten in an alley, smashed my jaw, and even framed me for assault, sending me to Rikers Island for a brutal month.

Isabelle watched, seemingly unmoved, later bringing me back only to keep me under her watchful eye.

My health was failing, constant headaches and blurred vision plaguing me, but I clung to the hope that my real Izzy was truly out there, fighting for her family, plotting our reunion.

"My Izzy would never abandon me," I' d whisper, constantly denying this powerful, callous Isabelle was the girl I loved.

Why was she letting this happen to me?

Was the Izzy I knew gone, or just buried under layers of New York ambition?

Then, at a glittering gala, as Isabelle triumphantly exposed Preston' s crimes and shockingly announced our engagement, he screamed the devastating truth: "She IS Izzy! She abandoned you for power! And she' s using you again!"

The world spun, my carefully constructed reality crumbled, and the full weight of her betrayal, coupled with a crushing pain, brought me to my knees.

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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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