Revenge Wears a Soft Smile

Revenge Wears a Soft Smile

Gavin

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The morning sun streamed into my penthouse, just like any other day. My fiancé, Liam, walked in with coffee and a croissant, his perfect smile radiating devotion. But the world had been dark just moments before, stained with the taste of blood and the memory of his smiling face as I lay dying on the cold floor of an institution. Now, it was two years before that horrific end. Two years before he destroyed everything and had me committed to a mental asylum. The last thing I remembered was his betrayal, his cruel laughter as my life, my company, and my sanity were systematically stripped away for his ambition. I watched him now, playing the part of the loving partner, reminiscing about the "Project Titan" software that was once my life' s work, the very foundation he would steal and rebrand as his own. He told me I was working too hard, that he would "take the pressure off." It was the same speech, the same insidious opening move he' d used before. A practiced performance that had once fooled me completely. How could I have been so blind, so naive, to open my heart and my world to such a snake? The memories of his lies, his manipulation, his ultimate act of sending me to an early grave, burned through me. But this time, the pain was fuel, not weakness. My smile might have been soft, but inside, a cold certainty settled deep in my bones. This wasn't a dream. It was a do-over. He thought he had won. He thought this was the start of everything for him. He was right. It was the start of his end. And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

Introduction

The morning sun streamed into my penthouse, just like any other day.

My fiancé, Liam, walked in with coffee and a croissant, his perfect smile radiating devotion.

But the world had been dark just moments before, stained with the taste of blood and the memory of his smiling face as I lay dying on the cold floor of an institution.

Now, it was two years before that horrific end.

Two years before he destroyed everything and had me committed to a mental asylum.

The last thing I remembered was his betrayal, his cruel laughter as my life, my company, and my sanity were systematically stripped away for his ambition.

I watched him now, playing the part of the loving partner, reminiscing about the "Project Titan" software that was once my life' s work, the very foundation he would steal and rebrand as his own.

He told me I was working too hard, that he would "take the pressure off."

It was the same speech, the same insidious opening move he' d used before.

A practiced performance that had once fooled me completely.

How could I have been so blind, so naive, to open my heart and my world to such a snake?

The memories of his lies, his manipulation, his ultimate act of sending me to an early grave, burned through me.

But this time, the pain was fuel, not weakness.

My smile might have been soft, but inside, a cold certainty settled deep in my bones.

This wasn't a dream.

It was a do-over.

He thought he had won.

He thought this was the start of everything for him.

He was right.

It was the start of his end.

And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

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When Love Turns to Ash

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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