Love After the Betrayal

Love After the Betrayal

Gavin

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The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster. I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm. Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant. He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck. "I need that back," he said, his voice flat. Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed. Without a word, Brandon fastened the necklace around her neck. My future, my life, was now hers. "I can' t marry you, Abby," Brandon declared, his voice devoid of emotion. "The wedding is canceled." Then, he looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I' m marrying Seraphina. Today." Just like that, my own cousin, who should have been my bridesmaid, was taking my place. "Why?" I managed to choke out. Brandon sighed, as if burdened by immense self-pity. "It' s for the good of the family. There' s a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina' s mother. If I don' t marry her, something terrible will happen." Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I' m so sorry, Abby. I didn' t want this." He held her tight, then looked back at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre pity. "It' s just for a few years, Abby. Once the danger from the curse has passed, I' ll divorce her. Just wait for me. You' ll always be the one I love." The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait. My family rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My mother' s face paled at the scene: me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck. Everyone expected tears, screams, pleas. But a strange calm washed over me. The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear. I looked at Brandon, the man I thought I would spend my life with, and saw a stranger-a weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by my jealous cousin. I turned to my father, my voice steady and firm. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?" His eyes widened in shock. "Abby, you don' t mean..." "I do," I said. "Call them. Tell them I accept." Silence fell over the room. My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that moment. The next day, I was on a plane to Europe. Five years later, the world knows me as Ava Beaumont. I am a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant. I am back in the United States for the first time in five years, for my husband William' s grandfather' s ninetieth birthday. And I am a completely different woman.

Introduction

The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster.

I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm.

Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant.

He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck.

"I need that back," he said, his voice flat.

Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed.

Without a word, Brandon fastened the necklace around her neck.

My future, my life, was now hers.

"I can' t marry you, Abby," Brandon declared, his voice devoid of emotion.

"The wedding is canceled."

Then, he looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I' m marrying Seraphina. Today."

Just like that, my own cousin, who should have been my bridesmaid, was taking my place.

"Why?" I managed to choke out.

Brandon sighed, as if burdened by immense self-pity. "It' s for the good of the family. There' s a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina' s mother. If I don' t marry her, something terrible will happen."

Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I' m so sorry, Abby. I didn' t want this."

He held her tight, then looked back at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre pity. "It' s just for a few years, Abby. Once the danger from the curse has passed, I' ll divorce her. Just wait for me. You' ll always be the one I love."

The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait.

My family rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My mother' s face paled at the scene: me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck.

Everyone expected tears, screams, pleas.

But a strange calm washed over me.

The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear.

I looked at Brandon, the man I thought I would spend my life with, and saw a stranger-a weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by my jealous cousin.

I turned to my father, my voice steady and firm. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?"

His eyes widened in shock. "Abby, you don' t mean..."

"I do," I said. "Call them. Tell them I accept."

Silence fell over the room.

My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that moment.

The next day, I was on a plane to Europe.

Five years later, the world knows me as Ava Beaumont.

I am a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant.

I am back in the United States for the first time in five years, for my husband William' s grandfather' s ninetieth birthday.

And I am a completely different woman.

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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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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Gavin
4.8

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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