A Billionaire's Second Chance

A Billionaire's Second Chance

Gavin

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My last breath was a gasp of pure, stupid shock. The sterile white room, the doctor' s flat voice delivering my death sentence-a massive coronary, brought on by stress. But it wasn't stress. It was betrayal. My wife, Jennifer, stood over me, her sweet mask replaced by a cold, triumphant sneer. "The baby?" she hissed, her voice dripping venom. "It' s Ryan' s. It was always going to be Ryan' s." Ryan. Her childhood sweetheart. The man whose limp I pitied, whose medical bills I paid, fueling their luxurious life. She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I came to your room right after I finished with Ryan. We planned it all, you pathetic fool. I never loved you. I despised you. Thanks for the easy life." The pain in my chest wasn't just my failing heart. It was the crushing weight of my own idiocy. My billions bought me the most elaborate, painful death imaginable. My vision tunneled, Jennifer' s hateful face the last thing I saw. Then, a roar filled my ears. The Texas sun on my neck. I was on one knee, a diamond bracelet glittering in my hand, facing Jennifer Smith. This was it. The exact moment I sealed my doom. The grand, public proposal that had cost me everything. But this time, I knew. I knew about Ryan' s fake limp. I knew they' d slept together less than an hour ago. I knew this was all a carefully staged play. This time, things would be different. This time, I' d rewrite my ending.

Introduction

My last breath was a gasp of pure, stupid shock.

The sterile white room, the doctor' s flat voice delivering my death sentence-a massive coronary, brought on by stress.

But it wasn't stress. It was betrayal.

My wife, Jennifer, stood over me, her sweet mask replaced by a cold, triumphant sneer.

"The baby?" she hissed, her voice dripping venom. "It' s Ryan' s. It was always going to be Ryan' s."

Ryan. Her childhood sweetheart. The man whose limp I pitied, whose medical bills I paid, fueling their luxurious life.

She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I came to your room right after I finished with Ryan. We planned it all, you pathetic fool. I never loved you. I despised you. Thanks for the easy life."

The pain in my chest wasn't just my failing heart. It was the crushing weight of my own idiocy. My billions bought me the most elaborate, painful death imaginable. My vision tunneled, Jennifer' s hateful face the last thing I saw.

Then, a roar filled my ears. The Texas sun on my neck. I was on one knee, a diamond bracelet glittering in my hand, facing Jennifer Smith.

This was it. The exact moment I sealed my doom. The grand, public proposal that had cost me everything.

But this time, I knew. I knew about Ryan' s fake limp. I knew they' d slept together less than an hour ago. I knew this was all a carefully staged play.

This time, things would be different. This time, I' d rewrite my ending.

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4.7

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

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