Chloe Vance's Reckoning

Chloe Vance's Reckoning

Yi Yanni

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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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My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

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My best friend Kevin invited me to his dad' s 60th birthday, a big celebration because his dad had terminal cancer. My wife, Olivia, couldn't make it; she was on a two-week work trip in Europe, a crucial conference for her career. But when I arrived at the party, I saw Olivia, kneeling before Mr. and Mrs. Miller, performing a "daughter-in-law tea" ceremony, dressed in a way I' d never seen. Then I heard Kevin' s relative say, "Kevin is so lucky. His fiancée is just wonderful." Fiancée. The word crushed me. Olivia' s practiced smile froze when she saw me. She pulled me aside, whispering, "Ethan, what are you doing here? It's not what you think." Kevin then appeared, claiming it was a "little white lie" for his dying father, wanting to see him settled. Olivia eagerly agreed, pleading with me to keep quiet, "just for today." They stood there, my wife and my best friend, united in their deceit, asking me to participate in my own humiliation. A cold clarity washed over me. "For your dad's dying wish? Does his dying wish also include a grandchild to complete the 'four-generation' picture? Are you pregnant, too?" The air turned to ice. Olivia recoiled, then feigned outrage, calling me "cruel." Her gaslighting was instant. Later that night, I went home to retrieve belongings and found them passionately kissing on my couch. "It's... it's not what it looks like!" she gasped, but I pulled out my phone, recording, "Save it for the judge. I want a divorce. And I'm keeping the dog."

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