His Political Prop, Her Revenge

His Political Prop, Her Revenge

Gavin

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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.

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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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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