From Trophy Wife to Tyrant

From Trophy Wife to Tyrant

Gavin

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The crystal award for 'Architect of the Year' felt heavy in my hand, a symbol of everything I' d built. Beside me, my husband, Ethan Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corporation, flashed his perfect, devoted smile for the cameras. We were New York' s power couple, Olivia Vance, the sharp architect, and her seemingly perfect marriage. But the applause was a dull roar; I just wanted to go home. A recent project had left me with a shattered arm, a fresh, angry scar hidden under my gown. Ethan called it a small price for victory. Back in our penthouse, the celebratory champagne sat untouched. Ethan was on his phone, his voice a low, charming murmur. Then my phone buzzed with an unknown number. "This little flower is ready to bloom for you tonight." My breath hitched. Before I could react, another message arrived: a selfie of a young woman, maybe twenty. She was in my bed, the custom headboard, silk sheets, and specific grey walls unmistakable. "On your wedding bed, how scandalous!" the caption read. A cold wave washed over me, a chilling realization that shattered my arm felt with sudden, sharp pain. All my success, all my sacrifices for him, felt like a cruel, elaborate lie. He was letting a child play in our bed. Disgust curdled in my stomach as I looked at the man I had loved. Something inside me broke more completely than any bone. The love died. Only a cold, clear decision remained: I would bring his entire empire crashing down. I would take back my name, my life, and my freedom.

Introduction

The crystal award for 'Architect of the Year' felt heavy in my hand, a symbol of everything I' d built.

Beside me, my husband, Ethan Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corporation, flashed his perfect, devoted smile for the cameras.

We were New York' s power couple, Olivia Vance, the sharp architect, and her seemingly perfect marriage.

But the applause was a dull roar; I just wanted to go home.

A recent project had left me with a shattered arm, a fresh, angry scar hidden under my gown.

Ethan called it a small price for victory.

Back in our penthouse, the celebratory champagne sat untouched.

Ethan was on his phone, his voice a low, charming murmur.

Then my phone buzzed with an unknown number.

"This little flower is ready to bloom for you tonight."

My breath hitched.

Before I could react, another message arrived: a selfie of a young woman, maybe twenty.

She was in my bed, the custom headboard, silk sheets, and specific grey walls unmistakable.

"On your wedding bed, how scandalous!" the caption read.

A cold wave washed over me, a chilling realization that shattered my arm felt with sudden, sharp pain.

All my success, all my sacrifices for him, felt like a cruel, elaborate lie.

He was letting a child play in our bed.

Disgust curdled in my stomach as I looked at the man I had loved.

Something inside me broke more completely than any bone.

The love died.

Only a cold, clear decision remained: I would bring his entire empire crashing down.

I would take back my name, my life, and my freedom.

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Her Betrayal, My Rebirth

Her Betrayal, My Rebirth

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The applause was deafening, but a cold sweat trickled down my back. One moment, I was falling, the city skyline spinning. The next, I was here, at the TechFusion conference, the air thick with the smell of electronics and ambition. I looked down at my hands, steady, and took a deep breath. This was real. A second chance, pulled back from the brink of a self-inflicted end. But as I scanned the room, the past crashed into me. This was the day it all went wrong before. The host nervously announced, "It seems our next speaker, the one and only Brittany Hayes, is running a little behind schedule." Then, my phone vibrated. It was Brittany. "OMG Sarah, traffic is a nightmare! I'm gonna be late. Can you go up there and stall for me? Just say some smart marketing stuff. You're good at that. Pls pls pls save me! 🙏" Word for word, the exact same manipulative plea that had led to my public humiliation and downfall. In my past life, I' d been naive enough to agree, only for her to frame me as a desperate attention-seeker who tried to steal her spotlight. It had shattered my career, my reputation, my spirit. It started a chain of events that led to my ultimate destruction. I had lost everything. My company threw me under the bus, the industry blacklisted me, and the online mob issued death threats. I stood on my apartment balcony, the city lights blurred by tears, and I let go. The memory of my own death brought a chilling resolve. Brittany Hayes had taken everything from me. This time, the past wouldn' t repeat. This time, I knew the script. This wasn't just a second chance at life; it was a second chance at justice.

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