Blaze of Betrayal, Rebirth of Love

Blaze of Betrayal, Rebirth of Love

Gavin

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The lingering smell of lilies and expensive cologne wasn't what I expected on my wedding day, not after the reek of gasoline and burning flesh that had been my last memory. My thirty-year marriage to Olivia ended in a blaze, not of passion, but of pure, unadulterated hatred, as she and our son watched me burn alive in my hospital bed. "Alex and I could have lived happily ever after!" Olivia shrieked, her face a mask of venom. "James isn' t your son. You were just the pathetic fool who paid for everything!" Then she dropped the lighter. The world erupted in agony, a searing pain consuming every nerve. Why? That was my last thought as I watched them walk away, their silhouettes framed by the flames devouring me. Then a violent jolt. The pain was gone. I was standing, healthy, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, staring at my thirty-years-younger self in a gilded mirror. It was my wedding night. I was alive, I was young, and I was back at the very beginning of the nightmare. Olivia' s frantic voice pierced the air, "Alex, no! Don' t do this!" Alex Peterson – her childhood sweetheart, the name now echoing with the fresh horror of her final confession. When she saw me, her face contorted. "This is your fault! If you hadn' t forced this wedding, he wouldn' t be threatening to jump from a cliff!" Mr. Sterling, the man I had revered my entire life, urged me to proceed. "You are the future of this company." His words once meant everything, now they felt hollow, part of a gilded cage. SLAP! Her hand across my face, "You' re nothing. Just the charity case my father pitied." I remembered it all: the thirty years of misery, her crushing remarks, her coldness, the son who looked at me with a stranger' s eyes. I had poured my life into his company, paid my debt with my work, my love, and finally, my death. Never again. The organ music began. I stood at the altar, looked at Olivia, then at Mr. Sterling. I thought of the fire, the betrayal. My voice clear and steady, ringing through the silent church, I said, "No."

Introduction

The lingering smell of lilies and expensive cologne wasn't what I expected on my wedding day, not after the reek of gasoline and burning flesh that had been my last memory.

My thirty-year marriage to Olivia ended in a blaze, not of passion, but of pure, unadulterated hatred, as she and our son watched me burn alive in my hospital bed.

"Alex and I could have lived happily ever after!" Olivia shrieked, her face a mask of venom. "James isn' t your son. You were just the pathetic fool who paid for everything!" Then she dropped the lighter.

The world erupted in agony, a searing pain consuming every nerve. Why? That was my last thought as I watched them walk away, their silhouettes framed by the flames devouring me.

Then a violent jolt. The pain was gone. I was standing, healthy, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, staring at my thirty-years-younger self in a gilded mirror. It was my wedding night. I was alive, I was young, and I was back at the very beginning of the nightmare.

Olivia' s frantic voice pierced the air, "Alex, no! Don' t do this!" Alex Peterson – her childhood sweetheart, the name now echoing with the fresh horror of her final confession.

When she saw me, her face contorted. "This is your fault! If you hadn' t forced this wedding, he wouldn' t be threatening to jump from a cliff!"

Mr. Sterling, the man I had revered my entire life, urged me to proceed. "You are the future of this company." His words once meant everything, now they felt hollow, part of a gilded cage.

SLAP! Her hand across my face, "You' re nothing. Just the charity case my father pitied."

I remembered it all: the thirty years of misery, her crushing remarks, her coldness, the son who looked at me with a stranger' s eyes. I had poured my life into his company, paid my debt with my work, my love, and finally, my death. Never again.

The organ music began. I stood at the altar, looked at Olivia, then at Mr. Sterling. I thought of the fire, the betrayal.

My voice clear and steady, ringing through the silent church, I said, "No."

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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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