His Billion-Dollar Vengeance

His Billion-Dollar Vengeance

Gavin

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"Daddy, are we really not going?" my daughter Chloe asked, her eyes big and hopeful, clutching the beautiful dress she was supposed to wear to the Memorial Day gala with her mother. My wife, Congresswoman Ava Hayes, had just called, her voice crisp and professional, claiming a last-minute, critical political function with donors. But I saw the disappointment in Chloe's trembling lip, and I knew I had to make it right for her. So, against Ava's instructions, I took Chloe to the gala, hoping for a special surprise night for my little girl. When we arrived, the grand D.C. estate was buzzing with national news cameras, and there, bathed in a spotlight on a massive stage, was my wife Ava. She wasn't at a "critical function" – she was standing next to her Chief of Staff, Mark, publicly introducing him and his son Liam as her "husband" and "our wonderful son." My world tilted, and a cold dread washed over me as Chloe whispered, "Daddy, why is Mommy with Mr. Mark? And why is she calling Liam her son?" I confronted Ava, demanding to know why she was pretending another man's son was hers, when our daughter, Chloe, stood right there beside me. She didn't miss a beat, her smile replaced by a mask of cold fury as she shrieked, "Security! This man is a disturbed constituent! He's been harassing my family!" The crowd, a sea of D.C. elites, jeered, calling me a "stalker" and a "nobody," as Mark put a protective arm around Ava, playing the devoted husband. Then, a text from Ava buzzed on my phone, citing our sacred "Veto Card" to cover this grotesque betrayal for the "campaign," twisting our most intimate promise into a tool of deceit. But the deepest cut came when Chloe, wanting to defend me, ran forward, only for Liam, Mark's son, to shove her back, her head hitting a marble planter. Chloe's cry of pain echoed, and blood trickled from her forehead as Ava shielded Liam, glaring at me with icy eyes, "Stop harassing a child!" Mark, with a patronizing smirk, threw a platinum credit card at my feet, telling me to "get lost" before he had me arrested. As I cradled my bleeding daughter, hearing her whimper, "Mommy doesn't want me anymore," something inside me snapped. The quiet, unassuming stay-at-home dad was gone, replaced by a profound rage that demanded retribution, a quiet fury about to turn the world upside down.

Introduction

"Daddy, are we really not going?" my daughter Chloe asked, her eyes big and hopeful, clutching the beautiful dress she was supposed to wear to the Memorial Day gala with her mother.

My wife, Congresswoman Ava Hayes, had just called, her voice crisp and professional, claiming a last-minute, critical political function with donors.

But I saw the disappointment in Chloe's trembling lip, and I knew I had to make it right for her.

So, against Ava's instructions, I took Chloe to the gala, hoping for a special surprise night for my little girl.

When we arrived, the grand D.C. estate was buzzing with national news cameras, and there, bathed in a spotlight on a massive stage, was my wife Ava.

She wasn't at a "critical function" – she was standing next to her Chief of Staff, Mark, publicly introducing him and his son Liam as her "husband" and "our wonderful son."

My world tilted, and a cold dread washed over me as Chloe whispered, "Daddy, why is Mommy with Mr. Mark? And why is she calling Liam her son?"

I confronted Ava, demanding to know why she was pretending another man's son was hers, when our daughter, Chloe, stood right there beside me.

She didn't miss a beat, her smile replaced by a mask of cold fury as she shrieked, "Security! This man is a disturbed constituent! He's been harassing my family!"

The crowd, a sea of D.C. elites, jeered, calling me a "stalker" and a "nobody," as Mark put a protective arm around Ava, playing the devoted husband.

Then, a text from Ava buzzed on my phone, citing our sacred "Veto Card" to cover this grotesque betrayal for the "campaign," twisting our most intimate promise into a tool of deceit.

But the deepest cut came when Chloe, wanting to defend me, ran forward, only for Liam, Mark's son, to shove her back, her head hitting a marble planter.

Chloe's cry of pain echoed, and blood trickled from her forehead as Ava shielded Liam, glaring at me with icy eyes, "Stop harassing a child!"

Mark, with a patronizing smirk, threw a platinum credit card at my feet, telling me to "get lost" before he had me arrested.

As I cradled my bleeding daughter, hearing her whimper, "Mommy doesn't want me anymore," something inside me snapped.

The quiet, unassuming stay-at-home dad was gone, replaced by a profound rage that demanded retribution, a quiet fury about to turn the world upside down.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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