The Empress's Second Chance

The Empress's Second Chance

Gavin

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The imperial selection, a grand affair that could secure a family' s fortune, was upon us. But in the Thompson household, excitement was replaced by a chilling demand. My mother, Mrs. Thompson, gripped my hands, her face a mask of strained concern. "Sarah, you have to do this for us. For the family." She wanted me to go to the selection in my cousin Emily' s place, "fail gracefully," and return home a nobody. I looked at her, her words a haunting echo from a life I' d already lived. The last time, I believed her. I failed as instructed, but nobody ever came for me. I spent three years as a low-ranking intern, enduring humiliation and grueling labor, clinging to the promise of my family. When I finally scraped enough money to return, I found red lanterns and festive decorations. My cousin, Emily, was marrying my fiancé. My mother saw me at the gate, tattered and starved. "What are you doing here?" she spat. "You' re an embarrassment. Go away." The gates slammed shut, laughter from inside filling my ears as I collapsed in the snow, my life bleeding away. Then, I woke up. Back in my room, my mother' s voice a poisonous murmur. "Sarah, you have to do this for us." A bitter laugh almost escaped. I was back, at the very moment of my ruin. But this time, things would be different. I pulled my hands from her grasp, a cold resolve settling in my heart. "I will go. But I will go as Sarah Thompson. And I will not fail."

Introduction

The imperial selection, a grand affair that could secure a family' s fortune, was upon us.

But in the Thompson household, excitement was replaced by a chilling demand.

My mother, Mrs. Thompson, gripped my hands, her face a mask of strained concern.

"Sarah, you have to do this for us. For the family."

She wanted me to go to the selection in my cousin Emily' s place, "fail gracefully," and return home a nobody.

I looked at her, her words a haunting echo from a life I' d already lived.

The last time, I believed her.

I failed as instructed, but nobody ever came for me.

I spent three years as a low-ranking intern, enduring humiliation and grueling labor, clinging to the promise of my family.

When I finally scraped enough money to return, I found red lanterns and festive decorations.

My cousin, Emily, was marrying my fiancé.

My mother saw me at the gate, tattered and starved.

"What are you doing here?" she spat. "You' re an embarrassment. Go away."

The gates slammed shut, laughter from inside filling my ears as I collapsed in the snow, my life bleeding away.

Then, I woke up.

Back in my room, my mother' s voice a poisonous murmur.

"Sarah, you have to do this for us."

A bitter laugh almost escaped.

I was back, at the very moment of my ruin.

But this time, things would be different.

I pulled my hands from her grasp, a cold resolve settling in my heart.

"I will go. But I will go as Sarah Thompson. And I will not fail."

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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4.5

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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