The Surrogate's Secret: A Mother's Vengeance

The Surrogate's Secret: A Mother's Vengeance

HAZEL MARTIN

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My phone buzzed with the perfectly captured picture: my husband, Andrew, beaming with the surrogate and their newborn, a son I' d paid a fortune to bring into this world. I typed a lie: "He's beautiful, I'm so happy for us." I was a spectator to my own life, my body a continuous failure after six miscarriages, each a tiny ghost in our silent house. Then, the call came: my eight-year-old niece, Madisyn, was in a terrible accident and needed B-negative blood-my rare type. But when I offered to donate, Andrew, his family, and even his wife, panicked, refusing my help. The doctor's chilling whisper shattered my world: "The resemblance is uncanny... Madisyn is your daughter, isn' t she?" My first "miscarriage" wasn't a miscarriage; it was a kidnappingorchestrated by my husband. Andrew confessed, not with remorse, but with monstrous casualness: he' d given away our child to his infertile brother to save their "family line." He even dared to gaslight me, blaming my grief and rage for ruining the "perfect family" he' d built with another woman. When I confronted him again, he shoved me, leaving me burned and abandoned on the floor after Madisyn staged a horrifying attack on the new baby and framed me. My heart, already shattered, turned to ice. Andrew would never believe me; he didn't want to. He had decided long ago who I was-the "unhinged wife"-and nothing I said would change his narrative. Screaming inside, I signed the divorce papers, picked up the pieces of my life, smashed the symbols of our shared past, and called the most ruthless lawyer on the East Coast. This wasn't just a divorce; it was a war. I was getting my daughter back, and I was going to make him pay for every stolen child.

Introduction

My phone buzzed with the perfectly captured picture: my husband, Andrew, beaming with the surrogate and their newborn, a son I' d paid a fortune to bring into this world.

I typed a lie: "He's beautiful, I'm so happy for us."

I was a spectator to my own life, my body a continuous failure after six miscarriages, each a tiny ghost in our silent house.

Then, the call came: my eight-year-old niece, Madisyn, was in a terrible accident and needed B-negative blood-my rare type.

But when I offered to donate, Andrew, his family, and even his wife, panicked, refusing my help.

The doctor's chilling whisper shattered my world: "The resemblance is uncanny... Madisyn is your daughter, isn' t she?"

My first "miscarriage" wasn't a miscarriage; it was a kidnappingorchestrated by my husband.

Andrew confessed, not with remorse, but with monstrous casualness: he' d given away our child to his infertile brother to save their "family line."

He even dared to gaslight me, blaming my grief and rage for ruining the "perfect family" he' d built with another woman.

When I confronted him again, he shoved me, leaving me burned and abandoned on the floor after Madisyn staged a horrifying attack on the new baby and framed me.

My heart, already shattered, turned to ice.

Andrew would never believe me; he didn't want to. He had decided long ago who I was-the "unhinged wife"-and nothing I said would change his narrative.

Screaming inside, I signed the divorce papers, picked up the pieces of my life, smashed the symbols of our shared past, and called the most ruthless lawyer on the East Coast.

This wasn't just a divorce; it was a war. I was getting my daughter back, and I was going to make him pay for every stolen child.

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Ava Thompson, a New England political heiress, thought she had it all: a glamorous wedding to rising D.C. star Ethan Cole, a picture-perfect union of two prominent families. But the silence in their grand Washington house, and Ethan' s constant devotion to Chloe, his adopted sister, hinted at a different truth. One night, that truth exploded. Ava overheard Ethan confessing their marriage was merely "a means to an end" and she "meant nothing" - his fierce loyalty belonging solely to Chloe. Her heart shattered, the beautiful facade of her life crumbling around her. Ethan openly dismissed Ava' s pain, choosing to protect Chloe' s malicious acts, including Chloe' s chilling confession to murdering Ava' s best friend, Maya. Using his family' s immense power, Ethan ensured Chloe walked free, twisting reality to frame Ava and threaten her loyal assistant. The ultimate betrayal came during a disastrous yacht event when Ethan instinctively saved Chloe first, leaving a helpless Ava to drown in the turbulent Chesapeake Bay. How could the man she loved, the man who was supposed to be her partner, abandon her so ruthlessly? Why was he so blindly devoted to a sister who was clearly a manipulative sociopath? Pushed to the brink, utterly broken by the profound injustice and the cold reality of her expendability, Ava collapsed. But as she healed, a cold, unshakeable resolve built within her. She would uncover the full truth behind Ethan' s warped loyalty to Chloe and fight for the justice Maya was denied. Ava, the dismissed wife, was coming for them, ready to dismantle a powerful family, one secret at a time.

Marrying The Enemy: My Ex's Worst Nightmare

Marrying The Enemy: My Ex's Worst Nightmare

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I spent ten years as the ward of Kason Oneal, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family. He saved me when I was a child, raised me, and made me believe I was his queen. But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Dalia, returned, the illusion shattered. Kason demanded I return the jade pendant—the one he had hand-carved for my sixteenth birthday—just so he could hang it around Dalia's neck. To him, I was suddenly nothing more than a placeholder who had kept his bed warm. The cruelty didn't stop there. He stood by and watched as Dalia shredded my clothes with scissors, laughing at my tears. When I collapsed on the floor in agony from acute appendicitis, Kason didn't call an ambulance. Instead, he dragged me to a shady clinic, accusing me of faking a pregnancy to trap him. He ordered the doctor to "terminate it" while I was dying of sepsis on the table. He called me trash. He called me property. He stripped away every ounce of dignity I had left, all to please a woman who was lying to his face. I realized then that the hero who saved me when I was ten was dead. I was done begging for scraps of affection from a monster. Trembling, I walked to the phone and dialed the number of the one man Kason feared most—his sworn enemy, Hadley Payne. "Tell him yes," I whispered into the receiver. "I accept the arrangement. I will marry him." Kason thought he could break me. Instead, he was about to watch his "property" become the Queen of the rival family.

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