Her Vengeance, His Broken Heart

Her Vengeance, His Broken Heart

Gavin

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They called me Liam Miller, the luckiest man in New York City. My son, Leo, was the center of my universe, and my wife, Sarah, seemed to worship us both. Our perfect life shattered one rainy day on the highway, a blinding flash of light, twisting metal, and then, nothing. I woke to the sterile whiteness of a hospital room, a rhythmic beep the only sound, Sarah by my side, her face pale, her grip tight. "Leo," I rasped, the word a physical wrench from my raw throat. "Where' s Leo? I need to see my son." Her face crumpled as she squeezed my hand, "There was an accident. He... he lost too much blood, honey. He died at the scene." The world spun into a gray vortex; panic choked me, then, mercifully, blackness. The next time I woke, I heard voices near the door-Sarah and the attending doctor. "Ms. Jenkins, your son could have been saved, but why did you...?" Sarah' s response was chilling, utterly devoid of emotion, "Liam Miller' s son, from the day he was born, was meant to save Alex' s daughter." Alex? The name struck me as foreign, out of place. "If he lived," Sarah continued, her voice like ice, "how could I legitimately take his organs? I' ve supported Liam and his son for years; now it' s their turn to repay me." The words struck harder than the truck, poisoning every memory, every cherished moment. The private island, the Fortress of Solitude – all a lie, a calculated investment, my son a resource, his life a debt she had come to collect. The grief didn't vanish; it transformed into a cold, hard resolve. My body was broken, but my mind had never been clearer. She wanted repayment? Fine. I would give her what she wanted.

Introduction

They called me Liam Miller, the luckiest man in New York City.

My son, Leo, was the center of my universe, and my wife, Sarah, seemed to worship us both.

Our perfect life shattered one rainy day on the highway, a blinding flash of light, twisting metal, and then, nothing.

I woke to the sterile whiteness of a hospital room, a rhythmic beep the only sound, Sarah by my side, her face pale, her grip tight.

"Leo," I rasped, the word a physical wrench from my raw throat. "Where' s Leo? I need to see my son."

Her face crumpled as she squeezed my hand, "There was an accident. He... he lost too much blood, honey. He died at the scene."

The world spun into a gray vortex; panic choked me, then, mercifully, blackness.

The next time I woke, I heard voices near the door-Sarah and the attending doctor.

"Ms. Jenkins, your son could have been saved, but why did you...?"

Sarah' s response was chilling, utterly devoid of emotion, "Liam Miller' s son, from the day he was born, was meant to save Alex' s daughter."

Alex? The name struck me as foreign, out of place.

"If he lived," Sarah continued, her voice like ice, "how could I legitimately take his organs? I' ve supported Liam and his son for years; now it' s their turn to repay me."

The words struck harder than the truck, poisoning every memory, every cherished moment.

The private island, the Fortress of Solitude – all a lie, a calculated investment, my son a resource, his life a debt she had come to collect.

The grief didn't vanish; it transformed into a cold, hard resolve.

My body was broken, but my mind had never been clearer.

She wanted repayment? Fine.

I would give her what she wanted.

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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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