The Unwanted Arranged Marriage

The Unwanted Arranged Marriage

Gavin

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The Fairmont ballroom shimmered with expensive light. It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life, my engagement party with Sarah, my girlfriend of six years. Everything was perfect until Liam, Sarah's assistant, crashed in, drunk and enraged. "A toast!" he slurred, holding a champagne bottle like a weapon. "To Sarah. A woman I love. Not him. Me. It's always been me." The room fell silent as Sarah rushed to him, taking the bottle, her entire focus on placating the man who had just publicly sabotaged our engagement. She led him away, not sparing a glance for my humiliation. My father's words echoed in my ears: "You have three days." The Hayes family pact loomed – an arranged marriage if I wasn't wed by my 35th birthday. Sarah returned, feigning apology, then accepted Liam's smooth, practiced apology on behalf of us both, drawing a line in the sand with me on the other side. Later, back at our apartment, a pocket-dialed voicemail from Sarah revealed her intimate laughter with Liam, confirming their secret connection. A photo, sent by a friend, sealed it: Liam kissing Sarah against an alley wall, a deep, consuming kiss. The final piece of evidence, burning into my mind. This wasn't just a drunken mistake; it was a calculated betrayal. My six-year future, the one I had fought for, lay shattered by deceit. I picked up my suitcase, the fight drained from me. There was only one path left. "Confirm it," I told my father's assistant. "My meeting with the Chen family is scheduled for tomorrow at noon."

Introduction

The Fairmont ballroom shimmered with expensive light.

It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life, my engagement party with Sarah, my girlfriend of six years.

Everything was perfect until Liam, Sarah's assistant, crashed in, drunk and enraged.

"A toast!" he slurred, holding a champagne bottle like a weapon.

"To Sarah. A woman I love. Not him. Me. It's always been me."

The room fell silent as Sarah rushed to him, taking the bottle, her entire focus on placating the man who had just publicly sabotaged our engagement.

She led him away, not sparing a glance for my humiliation.

My father's words echoed in my ears: "You have three days."

The Hayes family pact loomed – an arranged marriage if I wasn't wed by my 35th birthday.

Sarah returned, feigning apology, then accepted Liam's smooth, practiced apology on behalf of us both, drawing a line in the sand with me on the other side.

Later, back at our apartment, a pocket-dialed voicemail from Sarah revealed her intimate laughter with Liam, confirming their secret connection.

A photo, sent by a friend, sealed it: Liam kissing Sarah against an alley wall, a deep, consuming kiss.

The final piece of evidence, burning into my mind.

This wasn't just a drunken mistake; it was a calculated betrayal.

My six-year future, the one I had fought for, lay shattered by deceit.

I picked up my suitcase, the fight drained from me.

There was only one path left.

"Confirm it," I told my father's assistant. "My meeting with the Chen family is scheduled for tomorrow at noon."

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

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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