Marry The Woman In Coma

Marry The Woman In Coma

Gavin

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My father, a Navy SEAL who never flinched, was dying, and his last wish was to see me married. I turned to the three girls he' d raised as his own, my childhood sweethearts, who had jokingly "promised" to marry me. My proposal was met with cruel rejections: one claimed animal activism, another gamophobia, and the third cited her high-powered tech career. But then a video surfaced: my three "family" members, draped in designer clothes bought with my money, laughing and intimately lounging on a yacht with Ethan, our chauffeur' s son. They were wearing identical friendship bracelets, and Sarah was practically in his lap. Their excuses were elaborate lies, designed to mock me while they squandered my family's fortune. The betrayal burned, but their final act solidified my rage. When my father succumbed to his illness, they ignored his deathbed wishes, choosing a "hike" with Ethan over a final goodbye. A storm raged that night, and I, fearing for their safety, embarked on a desperate, all-night mountain search. My leg was injured, my body was broken, but my heart shattered when Sarah' s call came through: she was safe at a luxury resort, laughing with Ethan, mocking my concern. "Liam, are you done with your little drama yet?" she sneered. I returned to the hospital, only to find a nurse pulling a sheet over my father' s face. I swore then that they would pay, by choosing the one woman who could never lie or betray me. On my wedding day, dressed for a union born of despair, they burst in, feigning remorse, attempting to reclaim their position. "Why are you marrying a comatose woman? Why not one of us?" they shrieked, their contempt for my comatose bride palpable. But just as I placed the ring, Clara Sterling, whom they had called "a living corpse," slowly opened her eyes. "Who," she said, her voice cold and resonant, "are you calling a cripple?" She rose from her wheelchair, walked to me, and kissed me, revealing the shocking truth: she had never been in a coma. My life with Clara, built on truth and unwavering devotion, had just begun. My so-called family, defeated and exposed, were given a severance and exiled. Years later, I learned their tragic fate: they had been trafficked and killed in Thailand, a cruel end to their greed. I never looked back. My world, once shadowed by betrayal, was now illuminated by the laughter of my wife and daughter, a bright, clear horizon stretching before us.

Introduction

My father, a Navy SEAL who never flinched, was dying, and his last wish was to see me married.

I turned to the three girls he' d raised as his own, my childhood sweethearts, who had jokingly "promised" to marry me.

My proposal was met with cruel rejections: one claimed animal activism, another gamophobia, and the third cited her high-powered tech career.

But then a video surfaced: my three "family" members, draped in designer clothes bought with my money, laughing and intimately lounging on a yacht with Ethan, our chauffeur' s son.

They were wearing identical friendship bracelets, and Sarah was practically in his lap.

Their excuses were elaborate lies, designed to mock me while they squandered my family's fortune.

The betrayal burned, but their final act solidified my rage.

When my father succumbed to his illness, they ignored his deathbed wishes, choosing a "hike" with Ethan over a final goodbye.

A storm raged that night, and I, fearing for their safety, embarked on a desperate, all-night mountain search.

My leg was injured, my body was broken, but my heart shattered when Sarah' s call came through: she was safe at a luxury resort, laughing with Ethan, mocking my concern.

"Liam, are you done with your little drama yet?" she sneered.

I returned to the hospital, only to find a nurse pulling a sheet over my father' s face.

I swore then that they would pay, by choosing the one woman who could never lie or betray me.

On my wedding day, dressed for a union born of despair, they burst in, feigning remorse, attempting to reclaim their position.

"Why are you marrying a comatose woman? Why not one of us?" they shrieked, their contempt for my comatose bride palpable.

But just as I placed the ring, Clara Sterling, whom they had called "a living corpse," slowly opened her eyes.

"Who," she said, her voice cold and resonant, "are you calling a cripple?"

She rose from her wheelchair, walked to me, and kissed me, revealing the shocking truth: she had never been in a coma.

My life with Clara, built on truth and unwavering devotion, had just begun.

My so-called family, defeated and exposed, were given a severance and exiled.

Years later, I learned their tragic fate: they had been trafficked and killed in Thailand, a cruel end to their greed.

I never looked back.

My world, once shadowed by betrayal, was now illuminated by the laughter of my wife and daughter, a bright, clear horizon stretching before us.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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