No Longer His Doll

No Longer His Doll

Gavin

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I loved Michael so fully, a quiet burning devotion for my youth pastor, believing he was my soulmate. Then he left me for his "true love." In a fit of desperate jealousy, I hired men to just `scare` him, but it went horribly wrong. He suffered a head injury, waking with amnesia, claiming I was the only woman he remembered, the only one he loved. Guilt gnawed at me, but I clung to his twisted miracle, marrying him fast. My mother warned me, her voice weak but firm: "Sarah, this isn't right." I dismissed her, blinded by supposed love. Months later, in an isolated cabin during brutal childbirth, I heard Michael' s voice, cold and ruthless. He confessed his amnesia was a lie, a scheme with my stepsister, Jessica, his true love. They planned to steal my baby and force me into degradation. My baby girl was murdered by him, yet I was forced to breastfeed Jessica' s child, a constant, sickening humiliation. My mother' s warnings echoed, a devastating realization setting in: I was just a pawn, a "milk machine." But when Jessica cruelly revealed my own child had been slowly poisoned, something in me snapped. Broken, but not defeated, Mama V – an old friend of my late mother – recognized me when Michael dumped me at a decrepit city club, fully intending to sell me into a life I couldn't bear. She offered me a choice: sing for my life, or be swallowed by despair. I chose to sing. And I chose to live.

Introduction

I loved Michael so fully, a quiet burning devotion for my youth pastor, believing he was my soulmate.

Then he left me for his "true love."

In a fit of desperate jealousy, I hired men to just `scare` him, but it went horribly wrong.

He suffered a head injury, waking with amnesia, claiming I was the only woman he remembered, the only one he loved.

Guilt gnawed at me, but I clung to his twisted miracle, marrying him fast.

My mother warned me, her voice weak but firm: "Sarah, this isn't right."

I dismissed her, blinded by supposed love.

Months later, in an isolated cabin during brutal childbirth, I heard Michael' s voice, cold and ruthless.

He confessed his amnesia was a lie, a scheme with my stepsister, Jessica, his true love.

They planned to steal my baby and force me into degradation.

My baby girl was murdered by him, yet I was forced to breastfeed Jessica' s child, a constant, sickening humiliation.

My mother' s warnings echoed, a devastating realization setting in: I was just a pawn, a "milk machine."

But when Jessica cruelly revealed my own child had been slowly poisoned, something in me snapped.

Broken, but not defeated, Mama V – an old friend of my late mother – recognized me when Michael dumped me at a decrepit city club, fully intending to sell me into a life I couldn't bear.

She offered me a choice: sing for my life, or be swallowed by despair.

I chose to sing.

And I chose to live.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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