Unloved Wife, Unstoppable Woman

Unloved Wife, Unstoppable Woman

Gavin

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The twisted metal was the last thing I remembered before darkness took over. When I woke, the hospital air hung heavy with antiseptic, and my body screamed with fresh injuries. My first thought was of Mark, my husband, the man I' d sacrificed my brilliant career for. My phone, cracked but miraculously working, trembled in my hand as I called his number, a number I knew better than my own. It rang. And rang. Then, voicemail. Panic clawed at my drug-induced calm. He always answered. An hour later. Voicemail. Again? Voicemail. My last hope was our son, Liam, glued to his phone. "Liam, honey, it' s Mom. I can' t reach your father. Can you please tell him I' m in the hospital? I was in a car accident." His voice was cold, impatient. "What?" Then, the sickening scoff. "A car accident? Is that your new strategy to get Dad' s attention? He' s busy, Mom. He' s with Chloe, closing a big deal. He doesn' t have time for your drama." Chloe. The name hit me harder than the car had. "Liam, I' m not lying. I' m at City General. I' m hurt." "Whatever," he drawled, bored. "Stop calling and bothering us. You' re just embarrassing yourself." The click echoed in the sterile room. A notification flashed on my cracked screen: You have been blocked by this number. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. The physical pain was nothing compared to the shattering agony in my heart. Betrayed by my husband, abandoned by my son. In that moment something inside me broke. But something else, hard and resolute, began to form.

Introduction

The twisted metal was the last thing I remembered before darkness took over.

When I woke, the hospital air hung heavy with antiseptic, and my body screamed with fresh injuries.

My first thought was of Mark, my husband, the man I' d sacrificed my brilliant career for.

My phone, cracked but miraculously working, trembled in my hand as I called his number, a number I knew better than my own.

It rang. And rang. Then, voicemail.

Panic clawed at my drug-induced calm. He always answered.

An hour later. Voicemail. Again? Voicemail.

My last hope was our son, Liam, glued to his phone.

"Liam, honey, it' s Mom. I can' t reach your father. Can you please tell him I' m in the hospital? I was in a car accident."

His voice was cold, impatient. "What?"

Then, the sickening scoff. "A car accident? Is that your new strategy to get Dad' s attention? He' s busy, Mom. He' s with Chloe, closing a big deal. He doesn' t have time for your drama."

Chloe. The name hit me harder than the car had.

"Liam, I' m not lying. I' m at City General. I' m hurt."

"Whatever," he drawled, bored. "Stop calling and bothering us. You' re just embarrassing yourself."

The click echoed in the sterile room. A notification flashed on my cracked screen: You have been blocked by this number.

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. The physical pain was nothing compared to the shattering agony in my heart.

Betrayed by my husband, abandoned by my son.

In that moment something inside me broke. But something else, hard and resolute, began to form.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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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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