The Scent of Betrayal, A New Path

The Scent of Betrayal, A New Path

Gavin

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My life with Isabella was a dream, a meticulously crafted illusion of love and partnership, sealed with a unique cologne she commissioned for me. Then, one Tuesday morning, that perfect scent, our scent, suddenly made her flinch. She claimed an allergy, dismissed it as "too strong," and I, a fool for her comfort, stopped wearing it. A week later, I found her clutching a worn hoodie in our laundry room, reeking of cheap deodorant and unfamiliar youth. Her casual dismissal, "It' s Ethan' s. He' s that new intern I' m mentoring," struck a chilling chord. The way she spoke of him, the hunger in her eyes I hadn' t seen in years, the word she used- "nurturing" -echoed a past life, a forgotten version of us. I tried to confront her, publicly, thinking our history meant something. I was brutally wrong. She offered to buy me out with pennies from our pre-nuptial agreement, then surgically sabotaged my Wall Street career, ruining me financially. When I had nothing left, she showed her true monstrosity: she kidnapped my kind, loving parents, tying them up in a dark warehouse. Her demand was simple: sign the divorce papers, sign away everything, and they would live. I signed. The next day, the warehouse exploded. "A gas leak," the police report said. I knew it wasn' t. I stood on the edge of my office building, ready to end it all, when I woke up. I was in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window, my phone buzzing. The date on the screen was the day I first heard the name Ethan Cole. This was no longer about love or reconciliation. This was about survival. This time, there would be no confrontation. This time, I would just disappear. But first, I had to save the only people who mattered. "Dad?" I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you and Mom to pack a bag. I' m booking you a flight. I want you to go on that world cruise you' ve always talked about. Tonight."

Introduction

My life with Isabella was a dream, a meticulously crafted illusion of love and partnership, sealed with a unique cologne she commissioned for me.

Then, one Tuesday morning, that perfect scent, our scent, suddenly made her flinch.

She claimed an allergy, dismissed it as "too strong," and I, a fool for her comfort, stopped wearing it.

A week later, I found her clutching a worn hoodie in our laundry room, reeking of cheap deodorant and unfamiliar youth.

Her casual dismissal, "It' s Ethan' s. He' s that new intern I' m mentoring," struck a chilling chord.

The way she spoke of him, the hunger in her eyes I hadn' t seen in years, the word she used- "nurturing" -echoed a past life, a forgotten version of us.

I tried to confront her, publicly, thinking our history meant something.

I was brutally wrong.

She offered to buy me out with pennies from our pre-nuptial agreement, then surgically sabotaged my Wall Street career, ruining me financially.

When I had nothing left, she showed her true monstrosity: she kidnapped my kind, loving parents, tying them up in a dark warehouse.

Her demand was simple: sign the divorce papers, sign away everything, and they would live.

I signed.

The next day, the warehouse exploded. "A gas leak," the police report said. I knew it wasn' t.

I stood on the edge of my office building, ready to end it all, when I woke up.

I was in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window, my phone buzzing.

The date on the screen was the day I first heard the name Ethan Cole.

This was no longer about love or reconciliation. This was about survival.

This time, there would be no confrontation. This time, I would just disappear.

But first, I had to save the only people who mattered.

"Dad?" I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you and Mom to pack a bag. I' m booking you a flight. I want you to go on that world cruise you' ve always talked about. Tonight."

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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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