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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The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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