Second Love on Snow Mountain

Second Love on Snow Mountain

Edik Brandwein

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The hum of the projector was a victory song, my architectural proposal a masterpiece, and the biggest deal of my life was firmly in my grasp. Then, the screen flickered, and my home security feed astonishingly replaced my presentation, broadcasting my husband Liam, in his meditation room, hands caressing another woman. The boardroom went from buzzing with ambition to a suffocating silence, every corporate shark' s eyes boring into me as my perfectly crafted life shattered. I didn't flinch, my professional calm a mask over the searing pain of betrayal, as I coolly ended the meeting, securing the contract with a hand that barely trembled. But once in my car, my first call wasn\'t to Liam; it was to my lawyer, a swift command issuing from my lips: "Start the application for my permanent residency in Switzerland. Immediately."

Introduction

The hum of the projector was a victory song, my architectural proposal a masterpiece, and the biggest deal of my life was firmly in my grasp.

Then, the screen flickered, and my home security feed astonishingly replaced my presentation, broadcasting my husband Liam, in his meditation room, hands caressing another woman.

The boardroom went from buzzing with ambition to a suffocating silence, every corporate shark' s eyes boring into me as my perfectly crafted life shattered.

I didn't flinch, my professional calm a mask over the searing pain of betrayal, as I coolly ended the meeting, securing the contract with a hand that barely trembled.

But once in my car, my first call wasn\'t to Liam; it was to my lawyer, a swift command issuing from my lips: "Start the application for my permanent residency in Switzerland. Immediately."

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A Mother's Curse, A World Undone

A Mother's Curse, A World Undone

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For fifteen years, silence was my shield, a vow I kept to prevent my "disaster prophecies" from unleashing chaos into the world. My six-year-old son, Noah, was my entire universe, the one shining star in my muted life. But then my ex-husband, Kevin, and his new, beautiful girlfriend, Jessica, sent Noah—who was terrified of dogs—to a brutal ‘discipline’ camp filled with vicious Rottweilers. Soon after, the camp director curtly informed me that Noah "didn’t make it," handing me a small bag containing his torn shirt and a muddy sneaker. When I confronted Kevin with the devastating truth and the remnants of our son, his response shattered my very being. He laughed, callously dismissing Noah's last belongings as "trash," then threw the sacred fragments to his own German Shepherd, watching as the dog tore at them. The familiar sting of my silence, always a weapon against me, now became an unbearable agony, a fire raging inside my soul. But in that moment, as the last shred of my world crumbled, the dam broke, and a raw, hoarse sound ripped from my chest. My voice, silent for a decade and a half, returned with a chilling clarity. "Kevin," I hissed, "you will pay for this. Everything you value will turn to dust." And to Jessica, shielding her pregnant belly, I declared, "Your child will not live, and fire will consume your beauty for the rest of your miserable life." This was no longer sorrow; this was a mother’s curse, freshly spoken, and the world would soon discover its terrifying power.

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