Beyond Forgiveness: A Wife's Vengeance

Beyond Forgiveness: A Wife's Vengeance

Gavin

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For ten years, Julian Thorne, the Silicon Valley titan, was my world. He came into my life when I was a nobody, busking on the streets, and transformed me into a princess, envied by every woman in the country. He promised me forever, fighting his powerful family to marry me, treating me like the most precious thing in existence. But that fairy tale shattered the moment Bethany Greene entered the picture, and six months was all it took for him to erase a decade of devotion. My husband, once full of warmth, became a stranger who looked at me with cold fury. He accused me of manipulating Bethany into leaving him, spitting "Liar" with disgust. He played a video of my younger brother, Finn, on life support, threatening to pull the plug if I didn' t convince Bethany to return. "He' s a vegetable that' s costing me a fortune," he said coldly, as I begged him not to. The pain of knowing I might lose Finn, my only family, was unbearable, but the true horror was yet to come. As I pretended to call Bethany, a sharp, cramping pain shot through my abdomen. I was bleeding. "Julian, please... help me," I whispered, terrified, realizing I might be losing our baby. He dismissed it as drama, then his face lit up with a genuine smile when Bethany called his phone. He left without a second glance, instructing the butler to lock me in the meditation room, confident I was just trying to manipulate him. Hours later, alone, bleeding, and pounding on the locked door, I felt the life I was carrying slip away. My baby was gone, lost because the man I loved condemned me. When I woke in a sterile hospital room, Bethany was there, clinging to Julian, fabricating a story about me harassing her parents. He believed her instantly, his eyes cold and unmoved, denying we' d ever had a baby. "Lost what baby? Scarlett, stop making up stories to get attention." He watched impassively as Bethany forced me to apologize for something I hadn' t done, her triumphant smirk a knife to my heart. Then, he dropped the final bombshell, "I'm divorcing you." He even had his lawyer tell me he expected me to wait patiently for him to return after his "fling" with Bethany was over. That was the moment everything snapped into brutal clarity. My love for him, which had endured so much, finally burned to ashes, leaving only a cold, hard resolve. I signed the divorce papers, picked up the plane ticket, and looked him straight in the eye: "I don' t want you to love me anymore. I' m done." And with that, I walked out, leaving Julian and his new obsession behind, ready to disappear and never look back.

Introduction

For ten years, Julian Thorne, the Silicon Valley titan, was my world.

He came into my life when I was a nobody, busking on the streets, and transformed me into a princess, envied by every woman in the country.

He promised me forever, fighting his powerful family to marry me, treating me like the most precious thing in existence.

But that fairy tale shattered the moment Bethany Greene entered the picture, and six months was all it took for him to erase a decade of devotion.

My husband, once full of warmth, became a stranger who looked at me with cold fury.

He accused me of manipulating Bethany into leaving him, spitting "Liar" with disgust.

He played a video of my younger brother, Finn, on life support, threatening to pull the plug if I didn' t convince Bethany to return.

"He' s a vegetable that' s costing me a fortune," he said coldly, as I begged him not to.

The pain of knowing I might lose Finn, my only family, was unbearable, but the true horror was yet to come.

As I pretended to call Bethany, a sharp, cramping pain shot through my abdomen.

I was bleeding.

"Julian, please... help me," I whispered, terrified, realizing I might be losing our baby.

He dismissed it as drama, then his face lit up with a genuine smile when Bethany called his phone.

He left without a second glance, instructing the butler to lock me in the meditation room, confident I was just trying to manipulate him.

Hours later, alone, bleeding, and pounding on the locked door, I felt the life I was carrying slip away.

My baby was gone, lost because the man I loved condemned me.

When I woke in a sterile hospital room, Bethany was there, clinging to Julian, fabricating a story about me harassing her parents.

He believed her instantly, his eyes cold and unmoved, denying we' d ever had a baby.

"Lost what baby? Scarlett, stop making up stories to get attention."

He watched impassively as Bethany forced me to apologize for something I hadn' t done, her triumphant smirk a knife to my heart.

Then, he dropped the final bombshell, "I'm divorcing you."

He even had his lawyer tell me he expected me to wait patiently for him to return after his "fling" with Bethany was over.

That was the moment everything snapped into brutal clarity.

My love for him, which had endured so much, finally burned to ashes, leaving only a cold, hard resolve.

I signed the divorce papers, picked up the plane ticket, and looked him straight in the eye: "I don' t want you to love me anymore. I' m done."

And with that, I walked out, leaving Julian and his new obsession behind, ready to disappear and never look back.

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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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