Too Late, Sarah: A Husband's Vow

Too Late, Sarah: A Husband's Vow

Gavin

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The last thing Ethan Walker remembered was the bitter taste of pills. His life, once defined by Coast Guard rescues, had been systematically dismantled by his ambitious wife, Sarah, and her manipulative half-brother, Liam. They'd dismissed his debilitating leg injury, isolated him, and even sent their eight-year-old son, Ben, away, claiming it was for his "future." Drowning in pain and despair, discarded as a liability, Ethan saw no other escape. His final, icy thought: "Sarah, if there's another life, I won't love you again." Then, he gasped, bolting upright in his familiar bedroom. The early Alaskan sunlight cut through the blinds, and he saw the date: months before Liam' s arrival, before the crushing betrayals. He was alive. Again. The shock was a physical blow, but beneath it, a burning fury ignited. He' d believed in Sarah, in their life together, only for her to choose ambition and a snake like Liam over everything. How could she have let Liam twist their love, their family, into something so toxic? The memory of his shattered past, the agonizing spiral, the feeling of being entirely powerless and betrayed, hit him with brutal force. He wouldn't let it happen again. This time, he wouldn't be the wreckage left behind. His hand, trembling with cold resolve, reached for his phone. He was calling a divorce lawyer. When Sarah walked in, her composure already cracking, he stared her down, his voice cold. His fight for freedom, for Ben, and for his own redemption, began now.

Introduction

The last thing Ethan Walker remembered was the bitter taste of pills.

His life, once defined by Coast Guard rescues, had been systematically dismantled by his ambitious wife, Sarah, and her manipulative half-brother, Liam.

They'd dismissed his debilitating leg injury, isolated him, and even sent their eight-year-old son, Ben, away, claiming it was for his "future."

Drowning in pain and despair, discarded as a liability, Ethan saw no other escape.

His final, icy thought: "Sarah, if there's another life, I won't love you again."

Then, he gasped, bolting upright in his familiar bedroom.

The early Alaskan sunlight cut through the blinds, and he saw the date: months before Liam' s arrival, before the crushing betrayals.

He was alive.

Again.

The shock was a physical blow, but beneath it, a burning fury ignited.

He' d believed in Sarah, in their life together, only for her to choose ambition and a snake like Liam over everything.

How could she have let Liam twist their love, their family, into something so toxic?

The memory of his shattered past, the agonizing spiral, the feeling of being entirely powerless and betrayed, hit him with brutal force.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

This time, he wouldn't be the wreckage left behind.

His hand, trembling with cold resolve, reached for his phone.

He was calling a divorce lawyer.

When Sarah walked in, her composure already cracking, he stared her down, his voice cold.

His fight for freedom, for Ben, and for his own redemption, began now.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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