His Political Prop, Her Revenge

His Political Prop, Her Revenge

Blake Jewell

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My life with political hopeful Ethan Hayes was a gilded cage in the Hamptons. We hosted glittering fundraisers, surrounded by donors and power brokers. I thought I had everything, a perfect facade. Then, my half-sister Brooke feigned a champagne glass accident, theatrically blaming me. Ethan, my devoted husband, immediately turned on me, his face a mask of cold fury. He publicly branded me "unwell" and "unhinged," erasing my existence for his career. That night, two men dragged me away to a brutal "wellness retreat" in Montana. For two years, it was a prison where I was drugged, abused, and systematically broken, losing my voice and my identity. I was a shell, trained only to survive. Ethan never visited, only paid the enormous monthly fees. When he brought me back as a political prop, my trauma erupted; I instinctively dropped to my knees and shined a donor's shoes. He called me "shameless" and "unhinged," reinforcing my public ruin. The final, searing truth came from Brooke: Ethan had paid a "management fee" to specifically destroy me. The numb silence of two years fractured. An icy, pure rage ignited within me. Locked away, I used a hidden bobby pin to pick the lock, my hands shaking with adrenaline. This broken woman was coming for him, armed with the buried evidence that would be his absolute ruin.

His Political Prop, Her Revenge Introduction

My life with political hopeful Ethan Hayes was a gilded cage in the Hamptons.

We hosted glittering fundraisers, surrounded by donors and power brokers.

I thought I had everything, a perfect facade.

Then, my half-sister Brooke feigned a champagne glass accident, theatrically blaming me.

Ethan, my devoted husband, immediately turned on me, his face a mask of cold fury.

He publicly branded me "unwell" and "unhinged," erasing my existence for his career.

That night, two men dragged me away to a brutal "wellness retreat" in Montana.

For two years, it was a prison where I was drugged, abused, and systematically broken, losing my voice and my identity.

I was a shell, trained only to survive.

Ethan never visited, only paid the enormous monthly fees.

When he brought me back as a political prop, my trauma erupted; I instinctively dropped to my knees and shined a donor's shoes.

He called me "shameless" and "unhinged," reinforcing my public ruin.

The final, searing truth came from Brooke: Ethan had paid a "management fee" to specifically destroy me.

The numb silence of two years fractured.

An icy, pure rage ignited within me.

Locked away, I used a hidden bobby pin to pick the lock, my hands shaking with adrenaline.

This broken woman was coming for him, armed with the buried evidence that would be his absolute ruin.

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Eight Years of Gilded Cage

Eight Years of Gilded Cage

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It was our eighth wedding anniversary, and my husband, Mark Johnson, wasn't home. He was celebrating another woman's birthday, as usual. I sat in the silence of our gilded cage, the emotional wounds from years of neglect and indifference finally festering. He never hit me, not until tonight, but Chloe's Instagram post-Mark, her, a cake-ignited a rage I couldn't contain. When he finally stumbled in, past midnight, reeking of her perfume, I confronted him. "It's our anniversary, Mark." He sneered, "At least she's fun to be around. She doesn't just sit in the dark waiting to ambush me." The words tasted like poison. "I want a divorce, Mark." His face went white. "And," I added, "I'm pregnant. And the baby isn't yours." His shock turned to pure fury. "You lying, cheating bitch." He lunged, shoved me hard, and I fell backward, hitting the coffee table. A searing pain ripped through me. I looked down to see blood spreading on my dress. "Mark," I gasped, "The hospital... please..." He just scoffed, "You think a baby that isn't mine is your ticket out? You're pathetic, Ava." He pocketed the watch I'd bought him for our anniversary and walked out, leaving me bleeding on the floor. Eight years. He left me to die. Lying there, clutching my bleeding stomach, I knew I had to do something. For my baby. My fingers, slick with blood, fumbled for my phone, calling the one person who had ever shown me true kindness. Someone I' d promised I' d never call. That night, Liam Thorne answered.

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His Political Prop, Her Revenge His Political Prop, Her Revenge Blake Jewell Romance
“My life with political hopeful Ethan Hayes was a gilded cage in the Hamptons. We hosted glittering fundraisers, surrounded by donors and power brokers. I thought I had everything, a perfect facade. Then, my half-sister Brooke feigned a champagne glass accident, theatrically blaming me. Ethan, my devoted husband, immediately turned on me, his face a mask of cold fury. He publicly branded me "unwell" and "unhinged," erasing my existence for his career. That night, two men dragged me away to a brutal "wellness retreat" in Montana. For two years, it was a prison where I was drugged, abused, and systematically broken, losing my voice and my identity. I was a shell, trained only to survive. Ethan never visited, only paid the enormous monthly fees. When he brought me back as a political prop, my trauma erupted; I instinctively dropped to my knees and shined a donor's shoes. He called me "shameless" and "unhinged," reinforcing my public ruin. The final, searing truth came from Brooke: Ethan had paid a "management fee" to specifically destroy me. The numb silence of two years fractured. An icy, pure rage ignited within me. Locked away, I used a hidden bobby pin to pick the lock, my hands shaking with adrenaline. This broken woman was coming for him, armed with the buried evidence that would be his absolute ruin.”
1

Introduction

23/06/2025

2

Chapter 1

23/06/2025

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Chapter 2

23/06/2025

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Chapter 3

23/06/2025

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Chapter 4

23/06/2025

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Chapter 5

23/06/2025

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Chapter 6

23/06/2025

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Chapter 7

23/06/2025

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Chapter 8

23/06/2025

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Chapter 9

23/06/2025

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Chapter 10

23/06/2025