The Dying Wife's Last Revenge

The Dying Wife's Last Revenge

Gavin

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My doctor' s words echoed: rare, aggressive cancer. My husband, Mark, squeezed my hand, his politician's smile unconvincing. Then came the sliver of hope: an exclusive experimental program. But my sympathetic specialist, Dr. Ramirez, also mentioned my adopted sister, Jessica, suffering from a "severe, debilitating" flu aftermath. Mark, backed by my parents, didn't hesitate. They deemed frail Jessica more deserving of the treatment, claiming I was "strong." I watched as my only chance was handed over to her. It wasn't enough. Soon, Mark asked for a divorce to marry Jessica, citing her "stability" and "Leo' s future." My life' s work, my beloved bakery chain, signed over. My son, Leo, began calling Jessica "Mom." Even as my body screamed warnings – nosebleeds, fainting – they dismissed them, telling me to stop being "dramatic" and "upsetting Jessica." How could they be so utterly blind? So consumed by their self-serving narratives, so deaf to my silent screams? I was dying, yet they only saw a "strong" woman who needed to be "sensible" and give everything away. But then, Dr. Ramirez slipped me an unmarked vial: an experimental analgesic, three days of perfect health before a painful end. Three days to look fine, feel normal. Three days for my ultimate plan. My revenge would be served cold, from beyond the grave.

Introduction

My doctor' s words echoed: rare, aggressive cancer.

My husband, Mark, squeezed my hand, his politician's smile unconvincing.

Then came the sliver of hope: an exclusive experimental program.

But my sympathetic specialist, Dr. Ramirez, also mentioned my adopted sister, Jessica, suffering from a "severe, debilitating" flu aftermath.

Mark, backed by my parents, didn't hesitate.

They deemed frail Jessica more deserving of the treatment, claiming I was "strong."

I watched as my only chance was handed over to her.

It wasn't enough.

Soon, Mark asked for a divorce to marry Jessica, citing her "stability" and "Leo' s future."

My life' s work, my beloved bakery chain, signed over.

My son, Leo, began calling Jessica "Mom."

Even as my body screamed warnings – nosebleeds, fainting – they dismissed them, telling me to stop being "dramatic" and "upsetting Jessica."

How could they be so utterly blind?

So consumed by their self-serving narratives, so deaf to my silent screams?

I was dying, yet they only saw a "strong" woman who needed to be "sensible" and give everything away.

But then, Dr. Ramirez slipped me an unmarked vial: an experimental analgesic, three days of perfect health before a painful end.

Three days to look fine, feel normal.

Three days for my ultimate plan.

My revenge would be served cold, from beyond the grave.

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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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