The Wedding Crasher's Comeuppance

The Wedding Crasher's Comeuppance

Gavin

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My relaxing weekend at my parents' house was shattered by a call from my Brooklyn HOA. They claimed my apartment was hosting a raucous wedding party, going on for two straight nights. I was completely confused, having been single and away from Brooklyn for almost a year. Then, the HOA emailed security footage, and my blood ran cold. It was my ex-fiancé, Ethan, in a tuxedo, smiling triumphantly with a woman in a white dress, right in front of my apartment door. He was getting married there. The sheer audacity was staggering; this was the man I left because he demanded I add his name to the deed of the apartment I bought. He had broken in, changed the locks, and was throwing his wedding in my sanctuary. My father's "that bastard" echoed my own fury. I drove straight to Brooklyn, only to find he' d changed the locks, preventing me from entering my own home. His new mother-in-law, a stranger, belligerently told me I was a "crazy ex-girlfriend" and that Ethan had "bought this place" for her daughter. The injustice burned through me as I stood in my own hallway, accused of trespassing. How could someone be so brazen, so deceitful, to steal my home and invent such a lie? This wasn't just about property; it was a violation of everything I had built for myself. I called my two brothers, knowing this wasn't just a noise complaint anymore; it was war, and I was going to reclaim what was mine.

Introduction

My relaxing weekend at my parents' house was shattered by a call from my Brooklyn HOA.

They claimed my apartment was hosting a raucous wedding party, going on for two straight nights.

I was completely confused, having been single and away from Brooklyn for almost a year.

Then, the HOA emailed security footage, and my blood ran cold.

It was my ex-fiancé, Ethan, in a tuxedo, smiling triumphantly with a woman in a white dress, right in front of my apartment door.

He was getting married there.

The sheer audacity was staggering; this was the man I left because he demanded I add his name to the deed of the apartment I bought.

He had broken in, changed the locks, and was throwing his wedding in my sanctuary.

My father's "that bastard" echoed my own fury.

I drove straight to Brooklyn, only to find he' d changed the locks, preventing me from entering my own home.

His new mother-in-law, a stranger, belligerently told me I was a "crazy ex-girlfriend" and that Ethan had "bought this place" for her daughter.

The injustice burned through me as I stood in my own hallway, accused of trespassing.

How could someone be so brazen, so deceitful, to steal my home and invent such a lie?

This wasn't just about property; it was a violation of everything I had built for myself.

I called my two brothers, knowing this wasn't just a noise complaint anymore; it was war, and I was going to reclaim what was mine.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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.

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