Justice For Lily

Justice For Lily

Gavin

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I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams. Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life. Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern. I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting. But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location. Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover. I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it. Three days later, they found her tiny body. Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign. When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity? How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains? The gentle man I was died on that polished floor. But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life; now, I would systematically dismantle hers. I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon.

Introduction

I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams.

Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life.

Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern.

I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting.

But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location.

Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover.

I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it.

Three days later, they found her tiny body.

Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign.

When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped.

How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity?

How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains?

The gentle man I was died on that polished floor.

But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life;

now, I would systematically dismantle hers.

I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Gavin
4.8

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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