The Forgotten Love Resurfaces

The Forgotten Love Resurfaces

Gavin

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Three years. That' s how long it had been since Ethan Hayes, the supposed love of my life, exiled me from the city, effectively erasing me from existence. I returned, a ghost of my former self, a shell hardened by indifference, only to witness the shocking news that Dr. Ben Carter – a name that inexplicably shattered my carefully constructed apathy – was declared brain dead. A primal scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing, revealing a depth of grief for a virtual stranger that confused everyone, even myself. The whispers followed me: Sarah Miller, still obsessed, still pathetic. Why did this man' s death reduce me to a hysterical mess? Why did my body ache with a sorrow I couldn' t place, for a memory that simply wasn' t there? The answer lay buried, snatched from me by those who claimed to protect me: Ethan, my parents, and the sinister clinic abroad that had scrambled my mind. I knew then, with chilling clarity, that I had to unearth the truth about Ben Carter, no matter what it cost.

Introduction

Three years. That' s how long it had been since Ethan Hayes, the supposed love of my life, exiled me from the city, effectively erasing me from existence.

I returned, a ghost of my former self, a shell hardened by indifference, only to witness the shocking news that Dr. Ben Carter – a name that inexplicably shattered my carefully constructed apathy – was declared brain dead.

A primal scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing, revealing a depth of grief for a virtual stranger that confused everyone, even myself. The whispers followed me: Sarah Miller, still obsessed, still pathetic.

Why did this man' s death reduce me to a hysterical mess? Why did my body ache with a sorrow I couldn' t place, for a memory that simply wasn' t there?

The answer lay buried, snatched from me by those who claimed to protect me: Ethan, my parents, and the sinister clinic abroad that had scrambled my mind. I knew then, with chilling clarity, that I had to unearth the truth about Ben Carter, no matter what it cost.

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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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