My Family, My Fortune, Their Lie

My Family, My Fortune, Their Lie

Gavin

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I had just closed a nine-figure deal, the kind that sets your family up for generations. But when I got home, exhausted and suffering a heart attack, my wife and daughter were too busy recording TikToks and live streams to even notice. As I collapsed, gasping for breath, my wife told me my "negative energy was messing with her aura." I had to dial 911 myself, my family completely oblivious, leaving me to die on the floor. Waking up alone in the hospital, I found not concerned calls, but credit card alerts for lavish shopping sprees. They weren't worried; they were celebrating. Then, at Malibu, I saw my wife with her "life coach" lover as she handed me divorce papers, and my daughter told me he was more of a father than I ever was. My world shattered, I saw the truth: every sacrifice for them had been a lie. I had given my life, my fortune, all of it, to people who only saw me as an ATM. But the real shock came with a sealed envelope: 0.00% paternity. The daughter I had raised for seventeen years wasn't mine. The pain burned away the old me, leaving behind a cold, calculating resolve. I froze their accounts, repossessed their luxuries, and hired a PI to expose the "life coach" as a low-level con artist with massive gambling debts. When they came begging, I showed them the paternity test and his criminal record, then I called 911 on him for kidnapping them-his desperate attempt for ransom money. I set up a small trust for Molly, enough only for community college, sealing off my past. Then, I sold my company, bought a muscle car, and drove cross-country, ready to finally live for myself. I didn't seek revenge; I orchestrated justice.

Introduction

I had just closed a nine-figure deal, the kind that sets your family up for generations.

But when I got home, exhausted and suffering a heart attack, my wife and daughter were too busy recording TikToks and live streams to even notice.

As I collapsed, gasping for breath, my wife told me my "negative energy was messing with her aura."

I had to dial 911 myself, my family completely oblivious, leaving me to die on the floor.

Waking up alone in the hospital, I found not concerned calls, but credit card alerts for lavish shopping sprees.

They weren't worried; they were celebrating.

Then, at Malibu, I saw my wife with her "life coach" lover as she handed me divorce papers, and my daughter told me he was more of a father than I ever was.

My world shattered, I saw the truth: every sacrifice for them had been a lie.

I had given my life, my fortune, all of it, to people who only saw me as an ATM.

But the real shock came with a sealed envelope: 0.00% paternity.

The daughter I had raised for seventeen years wasn't mine.

The pain burned away the old me, leaving behind a cold, calculating resolve.

I froze their accounts, repossessed their luxuries, and hired a PI to expose the "life coach" as a low-level con artist with massive gambling debts.

When they came begging, I showed them the paternity test and his criminal record, then I called 911 on him for kidnapping them-his desperate attempt for ransom money.

I set up a small trust for Molly, enough only for community college, sealing off my past.

Then, I sold my company, bought a muscle car, and drove cross-country, ready to finally live for myself.

I didn't seek revenge; I orchestrated justice.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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