No More Tears for Him

No More Tears for Him

Gavin

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Five years ago, I gave everything – my dreams, my health, every last penny – to save the man I loved from a fatal heart condition. I scrubbed pots on double shifts, my hands raw, convinced I was putting my love on the path to recovery. But his fiancée, Jennifer, had other plans. She showed him doctored photos, whispered lies, and made it seem like I was selling my body, not my soul, for him. He believed her instantly, threw the money back in my face, and walked away, spitting that I deserved to rot. Now, five years later, those words are a cold prophecy: my kidneys are failing, I have six months to live. As I stumbled out of the free clinic, dizzy and broken, I saw him again-Ethan Scott, now a superstar music producer, stepping out of a luxury car with Jennifer, her hand protectively over a pregnant belly. They were heading into the exclusive private hospital next door, a world away from my despair. My body chose that moment to betray me; I collapsed, scattering my pills and medical records on the dirty sidewalk. He stared down at me, his eyes colder than any winter, then watched as Jennifer ground her heel into my hand and had my lifeline swept into a trash can. He even threw a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at my feet, declaring I was worth less than a donation to an animal shelter. How could he believe such monstrous lies? How could he, the man I sacrificed everything for, be so utterly blind to the truth of what I endured for him? What secret did Jennifer hold over him that made him choose her cruel deception over the life-saving act I committed?

Introduction

Five years ago, I gave everything – my dreams, my health, every last penny – to save the man I loved from a fatal heart condition.

I scrubbed pots on double shifts, my hands raw, convinced I was putting my love on the path to recovery.

But his fiancée, Jennifer, had other plans.

She showed him doctored photos, whispered lies, and made it seem like I was selling my body, not my soul, for him.

He believed her instantly, threw the money back in my face, and walked away, spitting that I deserved to rot.

Now, five years later, those words are a cold prophecy: my kidneys are failing, I have six months to live.

As I stumbled out of the free clinic, dizzy and broken, I saw him again-Ethan Scott, now a superstar music producer, stepping out of a luxury car with Jennifer, her hand protectively over a pregnant belly.

They were heading into the exclusive private hospital next door, a world away from my despair.

My body chose that moment to betray me; I collapsed, scattering my pills and medical records on the dirty sidewalk.

He stared down at me, his eyes colder than any winter, then watched as Jennifer ground her heel into my hand and had my lifeline swept into a trash can.

He even threw a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at my feet, declaring I was worth less than a donation to an animal shelter.

How could he believe such monstrous lies?

How could he, the man I sacrificed everything for, be so utterly blind to the truth of what I endured for him?

What secret did Jennifer hold over him that made him choose her cruel deception over the life-saving act I committed?

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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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