The Stuttering Heiress's Revenge

Name: The Stuttering Heiress's Revenge
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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My name is Jennifer Smith, and for eight years, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive. I was marrying Ethan, the charismatic musician who' d promised to be my rock, the one who saw past my severe stutter. At our rehearsal dinner, my parents gifted us millions: a trust fund and a historic Beacon Hill brownstone. Then, Ethan' s mother, loud and sharp, mocked my stutter, questioning my ability to speak my own vows. Before I could even react, Ethan, my supposed protector, brazenly addressed my parents. He claimed that due to my "condition," managing such assets would be overwhelming. He suggested all wedding gifts be put under his name, for my own protection and to prevent anxiety that triggered my stutter. My father roared, slamming the table, refusing to make his daughter a business deal. The stress and betrayal were too much; he clutched his chest, gasped, and collapsed onto the floor. My father suffered a heart attack. While he fought for his life in the hospital, Ethan' s mother posted a viral video, painting us as cruel rich people who gave my father a heart attack for refusing to give them money. This malicious lie, going viral as #JusticeForEthan, reached my father's tablet. He saw it, and his heart gave out. In that moment, I knew. They killed him. Grief consumed me, but underneath it, a cold, hard fury solidified. I saw Ethan in the hospital, smirking, already plotting his next move to exploit my father' s death for gain. But he didn't know the game had just fundamentally changed. My father' s funeral would be the beginning of my war.

Betrayal Revenge Billionaires Kickass Heroine Personal growth

Chapter 8

06-26 11:07

Introduction

My name is Jennifer Smith, and for eight years, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive.

I was marrying Ethan, the charismatic musician who' d promised to be my rock, the one who saw past my severe stutter.

At our rehearsal dinner, my parents gifted us millions: a trust fund and a historic Beacon Hill brownstone.

Then, Ethan' s mother, loud and sharp, mocked my stutter, questioning my ability to speak my own vows.

Before I could even react, Ethan, my supposed protector, brazenly addressed my parents.

He claimed that due to my "condition," managing such assets would be overwhelming.

He suggested all wedding gifts be put under his name, for my own protection and to prevent anxiety that triggered my stutter.

My father roared, slamming the table, refusing to make his daughter a business deal.

The stress and betrayal were too much; he clutched his chest, gasped, and collapsed onto the floor.

My father suffered a heart attack.

While he fought for his life in the hospital, Ethan' s mother posted a viral video, painting us as cruel rich people who gave my father a heart attack for refusing to give them money.

This malicious lie, going viral as #JusticeForEthan, reached my father's tablet.

He saw it, and his heart gave out.

In that moment, I knew.

They killed him.

Grief consumed me, but underneath it, a cold, hard fury solidified.

I saw Ethan in the hospital, smirking, already plotting his next move to exploit my father' s death for gain.

But he didn't know the game had just fundamentally changed.

My father' s funeral would be the beginning of my war.