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The Billionaire's Divorce Threat

The Billionaire's Divorce Threat

Gavin

5.0
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11
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I was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar tech corporation, but my wife, Chloe, knew me only as Ethan Miller, a modest app developer. I cherished the idea that her love for me was pure, untainted by wealth or status, so my true identity remained my closest secret. That carefully constructed life crashed down when I arrived at Austin' s most exclusive club for a crucial business meeting. Instead of an empty suite, I found Chloe, encircled by her snobbish friends, her waist possessed by Blake Harrison, a rival who clearly relished my perceived "lowly" status. Before I could process the scene, her friend Tiffany sneered, "Chloe, darling, is this your... little app developer?" Then, Chloe herself, face flushed with embarrassment, whispered urgently, "You can't be here. This isn't your world, Ethan. You're embarrassing me." And, louder for the room, "Are you stalking me?" The accusation hit me like a physical blow. Me? Stalking her? After all I' d built, all I' d sacrificed for us, she saw me as an embarrassment, someone who couldn't even belong in a fancy club without her. A cold, hard certainty settled in my gut: She's ashamed of me. Was our entire relationship built on a lie of my own making, or hers? The pain was sharp, but beneath it, a decisive edge hardened. "Chloe," I stated, my voice flat, cutting through the smug chatter, "I want a divorce." The room fell silent. Little did they know, this was just the prologue to a truth that would shake their world to its foundations.

Introduction

I was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar tech corporation, but my wife, Chloe, knew me only as Ethan Miller, a modest app developer.

I cherished the idea that her love for me was pure, untainted by wealth or status, so my true identity remained my closest secret.

That carefully constructed life crashed down when I arrived at Austin' s most exclusive club for a crucial business meeting.

Instead of an empty suite, I found Chloe, encircled by her snobbish friends, her waist possessed by Blake Harrison, a rival who clearly relished my perceived "lowly" status.

Before I could process the scene, her friend Tiffany sneered, "Chloe, darling, is this your... little app developer?"

Then, Chloe herself, face flushed with embarrassment, whispered urgently, "You can't be here. This isn't your world, Ethan. You're embarrassing me." And, louder for the room, "Are you stalking me?"

The accusation hit me like a physical blow.

Me? Stalking her? After all I' d built, all I' d sacrificed for us, she saw me as an embarrassment, someone who couldn't even belong in a fancy club without her.

A cold, hard certainty settled in my gut: She's ashamed of me. Was our entire relationship built on a lie of my own making, or hers?

The pain was sharp, but beneath it, a decisive edge hardened. "Chloe," I stated, my voice flat, cutting through the smug chatter, "I want a divorce."

The room fell silent. Little did they know, this was just the prologue to a truth that would shake their world to its foundations.

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The Pop-Up Truth

The Pop-Up Truth

Short stories

5.0

My phone screen lit up, not with a text, but a stark, black-and-white pop-up. "Ethan' s SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You' re the 'just in case' girl." Just moments earlier, my childhood crush Ethan, whose father my own dad died saving, feigned despair over "disastrous" SAT scores. He'd gently coerced me, the valedictorian, to give up my dream school for State College, all for "us." These mysterious pop-ups, visible only to me, had always been unsettlingly, terrifyingly right. This one revealed his calculated deception: he'd aced his SATs and was going to Stanford with his new girlfriend, Tiffany. My heart turned to ice. I was his backup plan, a discarded pawn. The betrayal escalated at his lavish graduation party where he publicly humiliated me, painting my sacrifice as my idea. Then, with Tiffany's cruel suggestion, he trapped and locked me in a dark utility closet. The final blow: he brazenly showed my ailing mom a faked State acceptance letter, causing her to suffer a heart attack. As I sat by her hospital bed, watching her struggle for breath, a cold rage ignited. How could the boy whose family owed us everything be capable of such cruel manipulation? My dad died for his. Why was I his pawn? What were these pop-ups? But in that sterile room, watching his continued charade, something inside me snapped. I slapped him, hard. No longer a confused victim, I saw him for what he was: a manipulative abuser. This wasn't the end of my story. This was the beginning of my fight to reclaim it.

My Brother, My Vendetta

My Brother, My Vendetta

Short stories

5.0

I remember the Orlando theme park vividly, a chaotic backdrop to the day I, Sarah, believed I saved my younger brother, Kevin, from a suspicious beat-up van and the men within. For twenty-two agonizing years that followed, he systematically dismantled my happiness, turning my very existence into a meticulously crafted hell, blaming me for every one of his pathetic failures and wasted life choices. On my fortieth birthday, as celebratory champagne turned to deadly poison in my throat, Kevin leaned close, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated triumph, whispering, "You should have let me go, Sarah; this is all your fault." That agonizing betrayal, that final, calculated act of malice, consumed me entirely as darkness quickly enveloped my world, stealing my breath and my future. I died, drowning in his insidious lies and my own complete helplessness, forever haunted by his chilling words, believing my life was ultimately a tragic, unending consequence of his twisted vendetta. Then, with a jarring jolt, I was miraculously back in that exact moment, the searing Florida sun oppressive, the cheerful theme park music grating, fully transported to the very nightmare where my torment began. There he was again, my sixteen-year-old brother Kevin, a familiar cocky smirk adorning his young face, confidently heading straight for the same beat-up van and its sinister occupants. This time, no frantic screams of warning tore from my throat; no desperate rush to interfere compelled my feet forward, no instinct to rescue him remained. A chilling stillness settled deep within my core, an immediate echo of the grave he' d prepared for me, as I consciously embraced a profoundly different path. I watched him climb into the decrepit van, watched its door slam shut on his ignorant bliss, and understood with absolute clarity that my second chance was not for any kind of salvation, but for a justice far colder and more absolute than I ever conceived.

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For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.

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