His Faked Death, My True Love

His Faked Death, My True Love

Gavin

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My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through familiar curtains in what was undeniably my childhood bedroom on a military base. But a stark, chilling truth hit me: I died. I vividly remembered fire, twisted metal, and then a profound, cold darkness. My father, General Miller, walked in, his voice deep and reassuring. "Sarah, you're awake. We need to talk about your future." He began to speak of Captain Mark Olsen, the perfect, ambitious officer everyone expected me to choose. The name was a bitter taste. Because in my first life, I married Mark. Then came the devastating news: killed in action. The grief consumed me. I stopped living, leading to my own tragic car accident months later. My world ended. But it wasn't true. As a lingering spirit, I watched my world shatter while his continued. Mark, alive and vibrant, laughing with Tiffany Evans, his arm around her. They had faked his death, eloped, and built a long, happy life together, completely discarding the woman who died for him. The rage, the profound betrayal, morphed from a cold fire to a precise, icy shard in my chest. Why did I endure such suffering, such a cruel end, while they basked in their deceitful bliss? The injustice was unbearable. But this was it. My second chance. A precious, impossible gift. This time, there would be no Mark Olsen. This time, I' d choose differently. This time, my life wouldn' t end in ashes.

Introduction

My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through familiar curtains in what was undeniably my childhood bedroom on a military base.

But a stark, chilling truth hit me: I died. I vividly remembered fire, twisted metal, and then a profound, cold darkness.

My father, General Miller, walked in, his voice deep and reassuring.

"Sarah, you're awake. We need to talk about your future." He began to speak of Captain Mark Olsen, the perfect, ambitious officer everyone expected me to choose.

The name was a bitter taste. Because in my first life, I married Mark.

Then came the devastating news: killed in action. The grief consumed me.

I stopped living, leading to my own tragic car accident months later. My world ended.

But it wasn't true. As a lingering spirit, I watched my world shatter while his continued.

Mark, alive and vibrant, laughing with Tiffany Evans, his arm around her.

They had faked his death, eloped, and built a long, happy life together, completely discarding the woman who died for him.

The rage, the profound betrayal, morphed from a cold fire to a precise, icy shard in my chest.

Why did I endure such suffering, such a cruel end, while they basked in their deceitful bliss? The injustice was unbearable.

But this was it. My second chance.

A precious, impossible gift.

This time, there would be no Mark Olsen.

This time, I' d choose differently.

This time, my life wouldn' t end in ashes.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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