His Regret, Her Revolution

His Regret, Her Revolution

Gavin

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I gave him seven years. Seven years of unwavering support, sacrificing my Georgetown scholarship and a promising career to stand by Carter's side. But at Thanksgiving dinner, while his mother gifted his "friend" Sofia a vintage Chanel bag, my reward was a $20 Starbucks gift card. Then, Sofia moved in, and Carter gave her our master bedroom, relegating me to a cramped guest room. My shock turned to horror when Sofia, fully aware of my life-threatening nut allergy, served me pesto pasta, and Carter forced me to eat it. As I gasped for air, he sneered, "Drama, all for attention." He defended her, even after she gleefully destroyed my deceased grandmother's locket. He then accused me of being violent and crazy, kicking me out of my own home. How could the man I loved for seven years betray me so shamelessly, side with a clear manipulator, and dismiss my suffering as an act? Was I truly just a placeholder, a temporary distraction until his "true love" returned from Europe? The pain wasn't just heartbreak; it was a profound injustice. I wouldn't just disappear. Armed with clarity and a quiet fury, I walked away, not to mourn, but to reclaim the ambitious woman he tried to erase. And when he inevitably came crawling back, offering millions to buy my forgiveness, he'd learn that some things, once broken, can never be bought back.

Introduction

I gave him seven years.

Seven years of unwavering support, sacrificing my Georgetown scholarship and a promising career to stand by Carter's side.

But at Thanksgiving dinner, while his mother gifted his "friend" Sofia a vintage Chanel bag, my reward was a $20 Starbucks gift card.

Then, Sofia moved in, and Carter gave her our master bedroom, relegating me to a cramped guest room.

My shock turned to horror when Sofia, fully aware of my life-threatening nut allergy, served me pesto pasta, and Carter forced me to eat it.

As I gasped for air, he sneered, "Drama, all for attention."

He defended her, even after she gleefully destroyed my deceased grandmother's locket.

He then accused me of being violent and crazy, kicking me out of my own home.

How could the man I loved for seven years betray me so shamelessly, side with a clear manipulator, and dismiss my suffering as an act?

Was I truly just a placeholder, a temporary distraction until his "true love" returned from Europe?

The pain wasn't just heartbreak; it was a profound injustice.

I wouldn't just disappear.

Armed with clarity and a quiet fury, I walked away, not to mourn, but to reclaim the ambitious woman he tried to erase.

And when he inevitably came crawling back, offering millions to buy my forgiveness, he'd learn that some things, once broken, can never be bought back.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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