Cannon Fodder No More: A Baby's Plan

Cannon Fodder No More: A Baby's Plan

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
68
View
11
Chapters

My name is Madisyn, and my story began in a dirty alley in Los Angeles. I was just a baby, a "cannon fodder" character in someone else's tragic script, destined to be a footnote in the tragic ruin of Ethan and Nicole Clark, the self-destructive heirs to a Hollywood fortune. Their parents were absent figures, leaving them in a gilded cage, completely unaware they were about to be ensnared by Jennifer Chavez and Andrew Morris, two ambitious grifters ready to bleed them dry and turn them against each other. I knew their dark future, how Jennifer would prey on Ethan's buried hero complex, and Andrew on Nicole's desperate need for affection, ultimately leaving them broken and estranged. My tiny, innocent form was supposed to be irrelevant, easily discarded by these teenagers hardened by neglect. But I wasn't just any baby; I was a baby with a plan, a knowing narrator stuck in an infant's body. I screamed and cried to force their reluctant bond, giggled to melt their facades, and strategically withdrew my affection to expose the insidious poison the grifters were injecting into their fragile relationship. When an actress framed Nicole for assault and a musician's charade of heroism was revealed, everyone expected Ethan to side with the "victim." But he remembered my tiny cries of terror whenever the actress touched me, my pointed coldness towards the musician, and Nicole's sudden awareness after my clumsy toddler words: "No owe life, sissy." I had broken the script, and I wouldn't stop until their future was rewritten.

Introduction

My name is Madisyn, and my story began in a dirty alley in Los Angeles.

I was just a baby, a "cannon fodder" character in someone else's tragic script, destined to be a footnote in the tragic ruin of Ethan and Nicole Clark, the self-destructive heirs to a Hollywood fortune.

Their parents were absent figures, leaving them in a gilded cage, completely unaware they were about to be ensnared by Jennifer Chavez and Andrew Morris, two ambitious grifters ready to bleed them dry and turn them against each other.

I knew their dark future, how Jennifer would prey on Ethan's buried hero complex, and Andrew on Nicole's desperate need for affection, ultimately leaving them broken and estranged.

My tiny, innocent form was supposed to be irrelevant, easily discarded by these teenagers hardened by neglect.

But I wasn't just any baby; I was a baby with a plan, a knowing narrator stuck in an infant's body.

I screamed and cried to force their reluctant bond, giggled to melt their facades, and strategically withdrew my affection to expose the insidious poison the grifters were injecting into their fragile relationship.

When an actress framed Nicole for assault and a musician's charade of heroism was revealed, everyone expected Ethan to side with the "victim."

But he remembered my tiny cries of terror whenever the actress touched me, my pointed coldness towards the musician, and Nicole's sudden awareness after my clumsy toddler words: "No owe life, sissy."

I had broken the script, and I wouldn't stop until their future was rewritten.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book