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The Bullet I Took For You

The Bullet I Took For You

Gavin

5.0
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For five blissful years, I poured my heart and soul into saving Ethan Lester, the tragic hero from a TV show, now the man I loved. Our wedding was just seven days away, my mission 99% complete, a lifetime of happiness within reach. Then, his voice, thick with emotion, echoed from the guesthouse. "Annie, I never stopped loving you." He declared I was just "static," background noise to his enduring love for Annabel, his wealthy ex-fiancée. The woman whose family destroyed him. The woman for whom he promised to still take a bullet. That promise felt like a bullet through my own heart, erasing my entire existence, my sacrifice of literally taking a bullet for him. How could he betray me so completely, after all we had built, after the life I gave him back? I yanked out my phone, contact the program, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands: "I want to pull the plug. I' m going home."

Introduction

For five blissful years, I poured my heart and soul into saving Ethan Lester, the tragic hero from a TV show, now the man I loved.

Our wedding was just seven days away, my mission 99% complete, a lifetime of happiness within reach.

Then, his voice, thick with emotion, echoed from the guesthouse.

"Annie, I never stopped loving you."

He declared I was just "static," background noise to his enduring love for Annabel, his wealthy ex-fiancée.

The woman whose family destroyed him.

The woman for whom he promised to still take a bullet.

That promise felt like a bullet through my own heart, erasing my entire existence, my sacrifice of literally taking a bullet for him.

How could he betray me so completely, after all we had built, after the life I gave him back?

I yanked out my phone, contact the program, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands: "I want to pull the plug. I' m going home."

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I was a zombie, fueled by lukewarm takeout and dreams of sleep. As a junior associate at a top New York law firm, my life was a blur of billable hours, 72-hour work marathons, and the soul-crushing weight of corporate expectations. After preparing for a merger that felt like a lifetime, I finally crumbled, face-planting onto a stack of legal briefs. But when I woke up, the world was a metallic blur, cold and unyielding. Panic surged, yet I found no lungs to scream. I was trapped, my entire consciousness crammed inside a high-end, silver tie clip, sitting on a mahogany desk. My new owner? Ethan Lester, the notorious bad-boy heir, whose tabloid exploits I usually scrolled past during my five minutes of daily downtime. He called me "junk," then tossed me aside like yesterday's trash. I, Jennifer Jones, Esq., was now a useless, annoying tie clip on a billionaire playboy's desk. Then I watched in horror as an assassin lunged at him, a needle glinting. I somehow, instinctually, reacted, becoming a silver projectile – a bizarre hero in a world gone mad. A strange, robotic voice in my head declared "Protection Mission 1 complete. Life -1," and I dissolved into darkness. I woke up as a ridiculous leopard-print mascot head, then a high-tech massage gun, each transformation triggered by saving Ethan from another attack. What infernal game was this? Why was I doomed to possess random objects, forced to protect this man? And how in the hell was I going to get my own body back?

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