From Heartbreak to Heiress: A Philanthropist's Rise

From Heartbreak to Heiress: A Philanthropist's Rise

Gavin

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Ethan Bishop promised me a future seven times. Seven times I pictured Napa weddings, picket fences, or at least a lease with both our names on it. And seven times, his college "one that got away," Olivia Hayes, would drift back into San Francisco, and Ethan would suddenly need "space" or declare it "bad timing." This time, he swore it would be different – a house in Mill Valley, a real future – once the funding round with Olivia's firm closed. Then he breezed in, buzzing about a "critical pre-meeting dinner" with her. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. I just pulled out the dusty cardboard box, already packed with every hopeful trinket, every broken promise. "It's yours," I said, my voice flat, placing it at his feet. He just scoffed. "Don't be dramatic." "We'll talk after this Olivia deal." "Gotta run, she's waiting." He didn't even look back. Seven times I'd been "a little overwhelmed" or "not used to this world," while he prioritized Olivia's comfort. The burning humiliation from a past public betrayal finally extinguished the last flicker of hope. This wasn't just another storm he could weather; it was the unequivocal end. That night, no more tears. The next morning, as he met with Olivia, convinced I was just "pouting," I called a moving company. I emptied my half of our apartment, leaving his favorite takeout menu-now useless to me. No note. Nothing left to say. Then, I dialed a number I hadn't called in over a decade: my Grandma Eleanor.

Introduction

Ethan Bishop promised me a future seven times.

Seven times I pictured Napa weddings, picket fences, or at least a lease with both our names on it.

And seven times, his college "one that got away," Olivia Hayes, would drift back into San Francisco, and Ethan would suddenly need "space" or declare it "bad timing."

This time, he swore it would be different – a house in Mill Valley, a real future – once the funding round with Olivia's firm closed.

Then he breezed in, buzzing about a "critical pre-meeting dinner" with her.

I didn't scream, I didn't cry.

I just pulled out the dusty cardboard box, already packed with every hopeful trinket, every broken promise.

"It's yours," I said, my voice flat, placing it at his feet.

He just scoffed.

"Don't be dramatic."

"We'll talk after this Olivia deal."

"Gotta run, she's waiting."

He didn't even look back.

Seven times I'd been "a little overwhelmed" or "not used to this world," while he prioritized Olivia's comfort.

The burning humiliation from a past public betrayal finally extinguished the last flicker of hope.

This wasn't just another storm he could weather; it was the unequivocal end.

That night, no more tears.

The next morning, as he met with Olivia, convinced I was just "pouting," I called a moving company.

I emptied my half of our apartment, leaving his favorite takeout menu-now useless to me.

No note.

Nothing left to say.

Then, I dialed a number I hadn't called in over a decade: my Grandma Eleanor.

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The Rejected Healer: Her Rise as the White Wolf

The Rejected Healer: Her Rise as the White Wolf

Werewolf

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I carried a thermal container of stew to my fiancé's private estate, worried he was stressed about our upcoming pack merger. Instead of a meditation retreat, I walked into a nightmare. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Ivan playing on the rug with a secret son, while a woman named Kiera watched like a queen. I froze as I heard Ivan's voice float through the glass. "Aliana is just a placeholder. She smells like antiseptic and fear. Once I get the territory, I'll reject her." My heart shattered, but the knife twisted deeper when he laughed about my parents. "Her folks pay for this villa, Kiera. They know. They prefer a strong alliance over a disappointment of a daughter." My own parents were drugging me to steal my medical patents. They thought I was weak. They thought I was just a submissive Healer. I wiped my tears and unlocked his safe with the admin codes he forgot I installed. I took the financial records, the fake DNA tests, and the theft agreements. That night, at his secret son's birthday party, I didn't bring a gift. I brought a projector. I played their confession for the entire Council, severed the mate bond publicly, and vanished into the North. Six months later, a ruined, homeless Ivan crawled into my clinic, begging for the legendary White Wolf to save him. He looked up, shocked to see me standing there, glowing with silver power. "You rejected the gift of the Goddess," I smiled, letting my Alpha aura crush him to the floor. "Now, get out."

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