Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

Gavin

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My life with Marcus Thorne was a fairytale, shielded by his ruthless power and what I thought was unwavering love. He was whispered about in D.C. elite circles-powerful, ruthless, yet always gentle with me, his Eleanor. Our legendary love story began years ago when he saved me, promising protection and building our world around him. Then, at a glittering D.C. gala, chaos erupted: gunfire, and his young operative, Izzy, took a bullet meant for him. But suddenly, the devoted man I knew vanished, replaced by a cold stranger fixated on Izzy, claiming a convenient amnesia. He then insisted I donate bone marrow for her "experimental treatment," disregarding doctors' warnings about my delicate pregnancy. I endured Izzy's endless demands and his chilling indifference as our long-awaited child, conceived after years of yearning, slipped away due to the procedure. My heart shattered, watching him dote on Izzy, who relished in my public humiliation. Then, I overheard his chilling confession: his "amnesia" was a calculated lie, and our baby' s death merely a "tragic necessity" to repay his supposed debt to her. The man I married, who vowed to protect me, had deliberately sacrificed our child, our future, for a cold, calculated lie. My world collapsed, my deep love turning to ashes, leaving only a hollow, burning rage. How could the man I adored be such a monster, so casually dismissing our child' s very life? I was merely a pawn in his twisted game, living a carefully constructed deception. But I refused to be his victim anymore. With every shred of my being, I resolved to disappear, to utterly erase Eleanor Thorne and reclaim my autonomy. This time, I would emerge a phoenix, not a pawn.

Introduction

My life with Marcus Thorne was a fairytale, shielded by his ruthless power and what I thought was unwavering love.

He was whispered about in D.C. elite circles-powerful, ruthless, yet always gentle with me, his Eleanor.

Our legendary love story began years ago when he saved me, promising protection and building our world around him.

Then, at a glittering D.C. gala, chaos erupted: gunfire, and his young operative, Izzy, took a bullet meant for him.

But suddenly, the devoted man I knew vanished, replaced by a cold stranger fixated on Izzy, claiming a convenient amnesia.

He then insisted I donate bone marrow for her "experimental treatment," disregarding doctors' warnings about my delicate pregnancy.

I endured Izzy's endless demands and his chilling indifference as our long-awaited child, conceived after years of yearning, slipped away due to the procedure.

My heart shattered, watching him dote on Izzy, who relished in my public humiliation.

Then, I overheard his chilling confession: his "amnesia" was a calculated lie, and our baby' s death merely a "tragic necessity" to repay his supposed debt to her.

The man I married, who vowed to protect me, had deliberately sacrificed our child, our future, for a cold, calculated lie.

My world collapsed, my deep love turning to ashes, leaving only a hollow, burning rage.

How could the man I adored be such a monster, so casually dismissing our child' s very life?

I was merely a pawn in his twisted game, living a carefully constructed deception.

But I refused to be his victim anymore.

With every shred of my being, I resolved to disappear, to utterly erase Eleanor Thorne and reclaim my autonomy.

This time, I would emerge a phoenix, not a pawn.

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I was the "Ice Queen," the perfect Mafia wife who managed the De Luca empire's millions while my husband, Alessandro, played the part of the feared Underboss. I thought my silence and competence earned me respect. That was until I woke up in the estate's medical bay with a shattered leg. My saddle had snapped mid-jump. It wasn't wear and tear; it was sabotage. Lying in the dark, feigning sleep, I heard Alessandro whispering outside my door with his enforcer. "The buckle was filed down," the enforcer said urgently. "Aria tampered with it. She could have broken her neck." I waited for Alessandro’s rage. I waited for him to execute the mistress who tried to kill his wife. Instead, his voice was cold and dismissive. "Bury it," Alessandro ordered. "It’s just a broken leg. Aria was upset about the credit cards. She just wanted to teach Katarina a lesson." A lesson. My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting the woman who tried to cripple me. Three days later, at the Family Charity Gala, he humiliated me publicly. He outbid me for my grandmother's heirloom necklace and clasped it around Aria's neck while I watched from my wheelchair. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a piece of furniture to be rearranged. He didn't know I had bugged the entire villa while I was recovering. He didn't know I had the recordings of what Aria was really doing when he wasn't looking. I gripped the USB drive in my pocket and signaled the tech team to lock the doors. The statue was broken, but he was about to learn that shattered ice is sharp enough to slit a throat.

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