Chloe Vance's Reckoning

Chloe Vance's Reckoning

Gavin

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My phone buzzed against the polished wood of my desk, a low, insistent hum, but I didn' t need to look. I knew it was Mark, calling about Ethan. He was on the roof of The Onyx, threatening to fly. And of course, Sarah was there, his childhood sweetheart, the constant shadow to our sham of a marriage. Humiliation was a familiar fire, but tonight, it burned hotter. This public spectacle was designed to hurt me, a transaction gone wrong-my life for my family's legacy. My brilliant, tech mogul husband, the man I' d married because he looked exactly like Leo, the boy I'd loved my entire life, lay there, groaning in pain. He' d risked it all for her. The doctor said it was just a superficial burn, but my obsessive need for a full scan revealed his injuries were minor. That last flicker of desperate, projected love for a dying man, it simply vanished. He hadn't been my dying love, and I had been a fool. I walked out of that hospital, leaving him bewildered. Three days later, I handed him the "DIVORCE AGREEMENT." He thought I was bluffing, that I wanted more money. "I just want to be free," I told him, the finality in my voice unmistakable. But he refused. He told me I was stuck with him, the real him, for as long as he wanted. He thought he could break me, but he had no idea who I was. I would not hide, and I would not cower. I was Chloe Vance, and this was just the beginning of my fight.

Introduction

My phone buzzed against the polished wood of my desk, a low, insistent hum, but I didn' t need to look. I knew it was Mark, calling about Ethan.

He was on the roof of The Onyx, threatening to fly. And of course, Sarah was there, his childhood sweetheart, the constant shadow to our sham of a marriage.

Humiliation was a familiar fire, but tonight, it burned hotter. This public spectacle was designed to hurt me, a transaction gone wrong-my life for my family's legacy.

My brilliant, tech mogul husband, the man I' d married because he looked exactly like Leo, the boy I'd loved my entire life, lay there, groaning in pain. He' d risked it all for her.

The doctor said it was just a superficial burn, but my obsessive need for a full scan revealed his injuries were minor. That last flicker of desperate, projected love for a dying man, it simply vanished.

He hadn't been my dying love, and I had been a fool.

I walked out of that hospital, leaving him bewildered. Three days later, I handed him the "DIVORCE AGREEMENT." He thought I was bluffing, that I wanted more money.

"I just want to be free," I told him, the finality in my voice unmistakable. But he refused. He told me I was stuck with him, the real him, for as long as he wanted.

He thought he could break me, but he had no idea who I was. I would not hide, and I would not cower. I was Chloe Vance, and this was just the beginning of my fight.

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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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