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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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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