My Story, My Proof

My Story, My Proof

Gavin

5.0
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The sterile white hallway of the hospital echoed with the sickening crack of bone. It was my bone, shattered by Daniel Hayes, the man who once swore to cherish me. He'd just slammed my hand against the wall, shielding my ex-best friend, Chloe Davis, who feigned tears behind him. Chloe, the architect of my ruin, had twisted Daniel's amnesia, painting me as a gold-digger and our son, Ethan, as a child of questionable paternity. Daniel, stripped of memory, looked at me with cold fury, then at our infant son with contempt. "Get out," he spat, threatening security. My son, innocent in his bassinet, was disowned. The man who wept with joy at our ultrasound now called his own son a bastard, even shoving Ethan's high chair over, causing a severe injury. His cruelty knew no bounds; I sold our last symbol of love, my engagement ring, for Ethan's surgery, only for Daniel to steal our son at gunpoint. My pleas fell on deaf ears; the police sided with the powerful CEO, and a fabricated court order made me an unfit mother. How could he forget everything? How could he believe such monstrous lies? The man I loved was gone, replaced by a ruthless stranger determined to erase me. But a mother's rage is a force no amnesia can quell. With nothing left to lose, I swore to take back my son, even if it meant tearing down the empire he'd built on our shattered past.

Introduction

The sterile white hallway of the hospital echoed with the sickening crack of bone.

It was my bone, shattered by Daniel Hayes, the man who once swore to cherish me.

He'd just slammed my hand against the wall, shielding my ex-best friend, Chloe Davis, who feigned tears behind him.

Chloe, the architect of my ruin, had twisted Daniel's amnesia, painting me as a gold-digger and our son, Ethan, as a child of questionable paternity.

Daniel, stripped of memory, looked at me with cold fury, then at our infant son with contempt.

"Get out," he spat, threatening security.

My son, innocent in his bassinet, was disowned.

The man who wept with joy at our ultrasound now called his own son a bastard, even shoving Ethan's high chair over, causing a severe injury.

His cruelty knew no bounds; I sold our last symbol of love, my engagement ring, for Ethan's surgery, only for Daniel to steal our son at gunpoint.

My pleas fell on deaf ears; the police sided with the powerful CEO, and a fabricated court order made me an unfit mother.

How could he forget everything?

How could he believe such monstrous lies?

The man I loved was gone, replaced by a ruthless stranger determined to erase me.

But a mother's rage is a force no amnesia can quell.

With nothing left to lose, I swore to take back my son, even if it meant tearing down the empire he'd built on our shattered past.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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4.4

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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"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

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