When The Quiet Wife Roared

When The Quiet Wife Roared

Herculie Dipietro

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I was Sarah Miller, publicly humiliated and discarded by NFL star Ethan Vance on his draft day. Branded a gold digger, I vanished, rebuilding my life and secretly marrying billionaire philanthropist Alexander Sterling. Five years of quiet happiness passed. But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. While on a simple errand, I unexpectedly collided with Ethan and his arrogant fiancée, my former intern. Their taunts instantly dragged me back into the nightmare. My attempt to assert my new reality – that I was married – was met with cruel laughter. Ethan snatched my Sterling Foundation card, mocking it as a fake, calling me a delusional liar and a thief. His rage escalating, he brutally crushed my hand in a car door, then locked me in a stadium utility room. Later, he dragged my battered self onto a championship ballroom stage, publicly branding me a stalker and criminal, while displaying my bandaged hand. Why was this nightmare happening again? Was I destined to be forever haunted by my past, my worth shattered anew? But just as he prepared to deliver his final, devastating blow, the grand ballroom doors dramatically swung open. My husband, Alexander Sterling, stood there, a quiet force of nature. My past had tried to consume me, but it was about to meet its match.

Introduction

I was Sarah Miller, publicly humiliated and discarded by NFL star Ethan Vance on his draft day.

Branded a gold digger, I vanished, rebuilding my life and secretly marrying billionaire philanthropist Alexander Sterling.

Five years of quiet happiness passed.

But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

While on a simple errand, I unexpectedly collided with Ethan and his arrogant fiancée, my former intern.

Their taunts instantly dragged me back into the nightmare.

My attempt to assert my new reality – that I was married – was met with cruel laughter.

Ethan snatched my Sterling Foundation card, mocking it as a fake, calling me a delusional liar and a thief.

His rage escalating, he brutally crushed my hand in a car door, then locked me in a stadium utility room.

Later, he dragged my battered self onto a championship ballroom stage, publicly branding me a stalker and criminal, while displaying my bandaged hand.

Why was this nightmare happening again?

Was I destined to be forever haunted by my past, my worth shattered anew?

But just as he prepared to deliver his final, devastating blow, the grand ballroom doors dramatically swung open.

My husband, Alexander Sterling, stood there, a quiet force of nature.

My past had tried to consume me, but it was about to meet its match.

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