The Game of Power

The Game of Power

Gavin

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Chloe Sterling was crying again, the 'Live Feed' above her head branding her 'Heartbroken_And_Clueless.' She was my ticket out of the Rust Belt, but her secret pregnancy with a powerful senator made her a liability. My jaw tightened. Poverty taught me to cut away anything that dragged me back down. I didn't hesitate. I dealt with the senator, making it look like a tragic accident. I manipulated the scandal, stepped into Chloe's shoes, married Liam Vance, and turned him into my puppet. I thought I'd won, untouchable in my new empire. My naive project, Chloe, found a new 'friend,' Ben. I warned her. But when I found her bruised, a rage unlike any calculation took over. This was personal. I tracked Ben down. It was brutal, quick. But as I stood over his body, Grandma Esther and Liam appeared. They knew everything, had evidence. My empire teetered. Their solution: frame Chloe, the fragile heiress, for Ben's death. My Chloe – the girl I'd used, yet somehow cared for. Before I could process the monstrous demand, Chloe stepped in. She'd heard. 'Don' t. Not for me.' Then, in a heartbreaking act of self-sacrifice, she jumped. But as grief threatened to consume me, a chilling message flashed across my 'Live Feed': 'Welcome, Ava, to the Next Level.' My life, this rise to power – all a 'narrative,' a 'test.' They offered a reset. All memories, all experiences, retained. Clutching Chloe's worn worry stone, I chose to go back. I'm twelve again, in the Rust Belt. But this time, I know the game. I'm ready to play it differently.

Introduction

Chloe Sterling was crying again, the 'Live Feed' above her head branding her 'Heartbroken_And_Clueless.'

She was my ticket out of the Rust Belt, but her secret pregnancy with a powerful senator made her a liability. My jaw tightened.

Poverty taught me to cut away anything that dragged me back down. I didn't hesitate.

I dealt with the senator, making it look like a tragic accident.

I manipulated the scandal, stepped into Chloe's shoes, married Liam Vance, and turned him into my puppet. I thought I'd won, untouchable in my new empire.

My naive project, Chloe, found a new 'friend,' Ben. I warned her.

But when I found her bruised, a rage unlike any calculation took over. This was personal.

I tracked Ben down. It was brutal, quick.

But as I stood over his body, Grandma Esther and Liam appeared. They knew everything, had evidence.

My empire teetered. Their solution: frame Chloe, the fragile heiress, for Ben's death.

My Chloe – the girl I'd used, yet somehow cared for.

Before I could process the monstrous demand, Chloe stepped in. She'd heard.

'Don' t. Not for me.' Then, in a heartbreaking act of self-sacrifice, she jumped.

But as grief threatened to consume me, a chilling message flashed across my 'Live Feed': 'Welcome, Ava, to the Next Level.'

My life, this rise to power – all a 'narrative,' a 'test.' They offered a reset.

All memories, all experiences, retained.

Clutching Chloe's worn worry stone, I chose to go back.

I'm twelve again, in the Rust Belt.

But this time, I know the game. I'm ready to play it differently.

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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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