Her Son, His Secret

Her Son, His Secret

Gavin

3.5
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For five years, I clung to the memory of Liam, my husband, lost to a mysterious accident. Then he reappeared, a month ago, but he was a stranger, stripped of his memories of me, and worse, he brought her-Chloe, the sweet, innocent woman he' d met while he was gone. Now, Chloe, pregnant with Liam' s child, slid a half-million-dollar check across my own mahogany table, a cruel offer to buy me out of my marriage. Liam, when he walked in, only cemented my nightmare, his face softening for her and hardening in cold impatience for me, accusing me of bothering her in my own home. He even suggested I help Chloe plan their wedding, believing her lies about his lost child that once was ours. Cold rage replaced my heartbreak; if he wanted a wedding planner, I' d be the best-and then disappear, completely. But Chloe' s cruelty didn' t stop. She orchestrated my kidnapping, gloating that Liam' s amnesia was her doing, a drug she' d used for years to erase me. When Liam found me, battered and bruised, he accused me of faking it all to frame Chloe. My world shattered, but amidst the wreckage, an email arrived: my permanent residency in New Zealand was approved. I signed the divorce papers, ready to leave, just as my brother texted: Liam had another accident, hit his head, and remembered everything. Without hesitation, I broke my phone' s SIM card and tossed it, choosing to leave the pieces of my past behind. Two years later, Liam, haunted and remorseful, found me in New Zealand, wanting to apologize and fix what was broken, desperate to know about the son clinging to my leg-Leo. "No, Liam. He is not yours. He is mine." I told him, crushing his impossible hope. I explained that the love I had for him, and our future, had simply transferred to Leo, the family we were supposed to have. At Leo' s first birthday, a deranged Chloe attacked me with a knife, Liam, true to his word (and perhaps seeking redemption), threw himself in front of me, and took the fatal blow, paying his debt. I felt nothing but a transaction completed; his life for my stolen five years. Later, a tall, impeccably dressed stranger arrived, his face uncannily like Leo' s. "My name is Julian Davenport," he said, his gaze fixed on my son. "I believe you have my son. The clinic made a rather significant error with my donation. It seems they gave you the premier sample by mistake. So, I've come to collect him."

Introduction

For five years, I clung to the memory of Liam, my husband, lost to a mysterious accident.

Then he reappeared, a month ago, but he was a stranger, stripped of his memories of me, and worse, he brought her-Chloe, the sweet, innocent woman he' d met while he was gone.

Now, Chloe, pregnant with Liam' s child, slid a half-million-dollar check across my own mahogany table, a cruel offer to buy me out of my marriage.

Liam, when he walked in, only cemented my nightmare, his face softening for her and hardening in cold impatience for me, accusing me of bothering her in my own home.

He even suggested I help Chloe plan their wedding, believing her lies about his lost child that once was ours.

Cold rage replaced my heartbreak; if he wanted a wedding planner, I' d be the best-and then disappear, completely.

But Chloe' s cruelty didn' t stop.

She orchestrated my kidnapping, gloating that Liam' s amnesia was her doing, a drug she' d used for years to erase me.

When Liam found me, battered and bruised, he accused me of faking it all to frame Chloe.

My world shattered, but amidst the wreckage, an email arrived: my permanent residency in New Zealand was approved.

I signed the divorce papers, ready to leave, just as my brother texted: Liam had another accident, hit his head, and remembered everything.

Without hesitation, I broke my phone' s SIM card and tossed it, choosing to leave the pieces of my past behind.

Two years later, Liam, haunted and remorseful, found me in New Zealand, wanting to apologize and fix what was broken, desperate to know about the son clinging to my leg-Leo.

"No, Liam. He is not yours. He is mine." I told him, crushing his impossible hope.

I explained that the love I had for him, and our future, had simply transferred to Leo, the family we were supposed to have.

At Leo' s first birthday, a deranged Chloe attacked me with a knife, Liam, true to his word (and perhaps seeking redemption), threw himself in front of me, and took the fatal blow, paying his debt.

I felt nothing but a transaction completed; his life for my stolen five years.

Later, a tall, impeccably dressed stranger arrived, his face uncannily like Leo' s.

"My name is Julian Davenport," he said, his gaze fixed on my son. "I believe you have my son. The clinic made a rather significant error with my donation. It seems they gave you the premier sample by mistake. So, I've come to collect him."

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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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