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The Price of Devotion: His Other Woman's Lies

The Price of Devotion: His Other Woman's Lies

Gavin

5.0
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I was Sarah Miller, Marcus Thorne' s wife, a public asset in his gleaming empire. Our life, from galas to high-stakes business, was a meticulously crafted facade. But Marcus' s true devotion was reserved for Vivian Hayes, his late partner' s widow and mother of his son, Leo. He canceled our feverish daughter Lily' s doctor' s appointment because Leo had a "sniffle." He fired a man for upsetting Vivian. I was always the shield, absorbing his neglect, but the line blurred when I confronted him about Vivian' s abuse of Lily. He didn' t just dismiss it; he raised his hand. Not at me, but at our own daughter. He slapped Lily, a sharp, sickening crack across her small cheek. Time stopped. Lily cried out, a small, choked sound. Marcus, his face a mask of cold indifference, simply muttered about "respecting Vivian." Later that night, reeking of Vivian' s cloying perfume, he attempted a reconciliation, only to abandon me again when she called with another supposed "panic attack." My little girl, her cheek still red, crept into my room, quietly, heartbreakingly. Her small hand found mine. "Mommy," she whispered, her voice clear despite the pain, "He' s left us for her a hundred times." Her words, old with a child' s painful wisdom, finally shattered the last, desperate shred of my endurance and hope. The final piece of my former self crumbled to dust. She looked at me, her eyes resolute. "Let' s go. We don' t need him." And in that moment, as she clung to me, I knew this wasn't just about escape. We wouldn't just leave quietly. No. We would make them pay. All of them.

Introduction

I was Sarah Miller, Marcus Thorne' s wife, a public asset in his gleaming empire.

Our life, from galas to high-stakes business, was a meticulously crafted facade.

But Marcus' s true devotion was reserved for Vivian Hayes, his late partner' s widow and mother of his son, Leo.

He canceled our feverish daughter Lily' s doctor' s appointment because Leo had a "sniffle."

He fired a man for upsetting Vivian.

I was always the shield, absorbing his neglect, but the line blurred when I confronted him about Vivian' s abuse of Lily.

He didn' t just dismiss it; he raised his hand. Not at me, but at our own daughter.

He slapped Lily, a sharp, sickening crack across her small cheek.

Time stopped.

Lily cried out, a small, choked sound.

Marcus, his face a mask of cold indifference, simply muttered about "respecting Vivian."

Later that night, reeking of Vivian' s cloying perfume, he attempted a reconciliation, only to abandon me again when she called with another supposed "panic attack."

My little girl, her cheek still red, crept into my room, quietly, heartbreakingly.

Her small hand found mine.

"Mommy," she whispered, her voice clear despite the pain, "He' s left us for her a hundred times."

Her words, old with a child' s painful wisdom, finally shattered the last, desperate shred of my endurance and hope. The final piece of my former self crumbled to dust.

She looked at me, her eyes resolute.

"Let' s go. We don' t need him."

And in that moment, as she clung to me, I knew this wasn't just about escape.

We wouldn't just leave quietly. No. We would make them pay.

All of them.

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Not Just a Horse: The CEO's Unstoppable Revenge

Not Just a Horse: The CEO's Unstoppable Revenge

Short stories

5.0

The quarterly board meeting was standard, a high-stakes, productive morning for me, Scarlett King, CEO of King Global. My phone vibrated discreetly on the mahogany, a text from my oldest friend, Maria, flashing urgently across the screen. "Scarlett. Urgent. Check this link. I'm so sorry." The link opened an Instagram reel, and my blood ran ice cold. It was Desert Mirage, my champion Arabian stallion-a treasured legacy from my grandfather-terrified, his magnificent coat matted with cheap glitter. A woman, Tiffany Starr, brutally yanked his reins. Then, sickeningly, my husband Ethan's laugh echoed, encouraging her. The caption seared: "Ethan says I can handle anything! Even this rich bitch's pony." My hands clenched. When I called, Ethan sounded annoyed. "Scarlett? Tiffany was just having fun. He's just a horse." He hung up, dismissing me as "uptight" to someone nearby, the line going dead. "Just a horse." My horse. My legacy. He dismissed it. He dismissed me. He sided with her. This wasn't mere abuse; it was a public desecration of my soul's depth, my family's legacy. The humiliation was a raw, physical ache, hardening into cold, pure fury. This was more than betrayal; it was a declaration of war. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. My mind honed to laser focus. I buzzed Marcus, my head of security. "Tiffany Starr is at the Chateau Marmont. Remove her. Publicly. Serve a restraining order. Revoke all King Global studio access." They wanted a war. They would get one they'd regret.

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