When Love Kills: A Calculated Revenge

When Love Kills: A Calculated Revenge

Gavin

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I stood at the altar, ready to marry Nicole, the woman I' d given up everything for-my pro-gaming career, my entire life savings, all poured into her dreams. The priest' s words hung in the air, echoing across the Napa Valley vineyard: "Do you, Ethan Lester, take Nicole Anderson...?" Suddenly, a disheveled figure stumbled through the guests – Ryan Clark, her college ex, the "one that got away," clutching his head and declaring he was dying of an inoperable brain tumor. Nicole froze, her hand dropping from mine, her eyes wide with a horrifying mix of concern and sick romanticism. She turned from me, from our wedding, from our life, helping him to his feet and disappearing among the grapevines, leaving me utterly alone. A cold voice inside my head, belonging to the "pact" that governed my own dormant glioblastoma, clinically confirmed: "Condition check failed. Loyalty parameter at zero. Pact objective failed." My blood ran cold, not just from her betrayal, but from the chilling reality that the lie he spoke was the exact truth of my own silent, ticking death sentence. How could my entire sacrifice, my very life, be so easily dismissed for a transparent, manipulative sob story, when my own truth was far more devastating? With only one week left to live and a "final wish" granted by the pact, I made the only choice that mattered: Ryan' s supposed tumor would be completely and miraculously cured.

Introduction

I stood at the altar, ready to marry Nicole, the woman I' d given up everything for-my pro-gaming career, my entire life savings, all poured into her dreams.

The priest' s words hung in the air, echoing across the Napa Valley vineyard: "Do you, Ethan Lester, take Nicole Anderson...?"

Suddenly, a disheveled figure stumbled through the guests – Ryan Clark, her college ex, the "one that got away," clutching his head and declaring he was dying of an inoperable brain tumor.

Nicole froze, her hand dropping from mine, her eyes wide with a horrifying mix of concern and sick romanticism.

She turned from me, from our wedding, from our life, helping him to his feet and disappearing among the grapevines, leaving me utterly alone.

A cold voice inside my head, belonging to the "pact" that governed my own dormant glioblastoma, clinically confirmed: "Condition check failed. Loyalty parameter at zero. Pact objective failed."

My blood ran cold, not just from her betrayal, but from the chilling reality that the lie he spoke was the exact truth of my own silent, ticking death sentence.

How could my entire sacrifice, my very life, be so easily dismissed for a transparent, manipulative sob story, when my own truth was far more devastating?

With only one week left to live and a "final wish" granted by the pact, I made the only choice that mattered: Ryan' s supposed tumor would be completely and miraculously cured.

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