His Secret Obsession, My Betrayal

His Secret Obsession, My Betrayal

Gavin

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The air in the penthouse reeked of sex and lies; I, Chloe Davis, a tech prodigy, was tangled in the sheets of Ethan Hayes, the venture capitalist titan. But the soft hiss of his shower was soon drowned out by a chilling message on his laptop: "Ethan, can you come keep me company for a bit...? - Liam." Liam-the "first love" I' d recently watched Ethan escort into a hotel with tender care, the same Liam whose face filled the secret shrine in Ethan's study, a shrine I'd discovered while waiting alone on Ethan' s birthday, clutching an engagement ring. That night, news alerts screamed of #TechMogul\'sSecretLove, confirming my worst fears of being nothing but a call-on-demand lover, a temporary diversion while his true obsession was away. Now, as he dismissively left me for his "office" – Liam – a cold dread turned into a furious resolve. I ordered a ride-share, following him to the hotel, my heart hammering as I watched him link arms with Liam, a picture of perfect affection. They looked like a family, something I' d never known. When my own father, eager to marry me off for fifty billion, presented Liam as his mistress' s son, my new stepbrother, the betrayal hardened into a diamond-sharp edge. I bought couture gowns I' d never wear, jewelry I' d never put on, emptying his accounts. Then, walking through a dark alley after my credit card was cut off, I was cornered by two menacing men. Just as they grabbed me, a black car screeched to a halt, and Ethan's assistant, Mark, stepped out, followed by Ethan himself, his face a mask of cold fury. He pulled me into his Maybach, demanding answers. My response was simple: "Away from you. Away from my father. Away from everything." This wasn't just about escape; it was about reclaiming myself.

Introduction

The air in the penthouse reeked of sex and lies; I, Chloe Davis, a tech prodigy, was tangled in the sheets of Ethan Hayes, the venture capitalist titan.

But the soft hiss of his shower was soon drowned out by a chilling message on his laptop: "Ethan, can you come keep me company for a bit...? - Liam."

Liam-the "first love" I' d recently watched Ethan escort into a hotel with tender care, the same Liam whose face filled the secret shrine in Ethan's study, a shrine I'd discovered while waiting alone on Ethan' s birthday, clutching an engagement ring.

That night, news alerts screamed of #TechMogul\'sSecretLove, confirming my worst fears of being nothing but a call-on-demand lover, a temporary diversion while his true obsession was away.

Now, as he dismissively left me for his "office" – Liam – a cold dread turned into a furious resolve. I ordered a ride-share, following him to the hotel, my heart hammering as I watched him link arms with Liam, a picture of perfect affection. They looked like a family, something I' d never known.

When my own father, eager to marry me off for fifty billion, presented Liam as his mistress' s son, my new stepbrother, the betrayal hardened into a diamond-sharp edge. I bought couture gowns I' d never wear, jewelry I' d never put on, emptying his accounts.

Then, walking through a dark alley after my credit card was cut off, I was cornered by two menacing men. Just as they grabbed me, a black car screeched to a halt, and Ethan's assistant, Mark, stepped out, followed by Ethan himself, his face a mask of cold fury.

He pulled me into his Maybach, demanding answers. My response was simple: "Away from you. Away from my father. Away from everything." This wasn't just about escape; it was about reclaiming myself.

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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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