Stolen Life, Broken Heart

Stolen Life, Broken Heart

Gavin

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My name is Ryan Thorne. I was sitting on the cold hospital floor, cradling my son Leo' s lifeless body. He was gone. Killed by a monstrous "therapy" in a sensory deprivation tank. His wide, terrified eyes stared blankly, a permanent mask of horror. On the TV screen, my ex-fiancée, Sophia Hayes, was marrying a man who looked exactly like me: Ryan Thorne. But he wasn't me. He was the imposter, the man Sophia told me was my brother. A searing pain shot through my head, not from the forgotten car crash, but from memories flooding back. My name isn't Ethan Miller. It's Ryan Thorne. The real Ryan Thorne. The man on that screen had stolen my name, my face, my entire life. Five years ago, after the crash, Sophia convinced me I was "Ethan Miller," an architect who needed a kidney. She pointed to the imposter, my long-lost brother, a perfect match for my supposed kidney failure. I gave him my kidney, my identity, my inheritance. Everything. Leo, my sweet, sensitive boy, was the only real thing in that fabricated life. He overheard Sophia and the imposter laughing about their cruel deception. The man he adored wasn't his father. Shattered, Leo collapsed. Sophia, knowing his claustrophobia, locked him in the tank for "therapy." "Dad help. Scared. Dark." His last text. I found Sophia outside, watching her clock. "My son shouldn't be weak and afraid. He needs to get over his issues. Besides, how could therapy kill anyone?" she'd said. I broke in, but it was too late. Leo was gone. Now, as I held him, the full truth crashed down. "Mom," I said, dialing a number I hadn't called in five years. "It's Ryan." "I remember everything," I continued, my gaze fixed on the laughing faces on the TV. "It's time for me to leave." They took my life. They took my son. I would take it all back.

Introduction

My name is Ryan Thorne. I was sitting on the cold hospital floor, cradling my son Leo' s lifeless body.

He was gone.

Killed by a monstrous "therapy" in a sensory deprivation tank.

His wide, terrified eyes stared blankly, a permanent mask of horror.

On the TV screen, my ex-fiancée, Sophia Hayes, was marrying a man who looked exactly like me: Ryan Thorne.

But he wasn't me. He was the imposter, the man Sophia told me was my brother.

A searing pain shot through my head, not from the forgotten car crash, but from memories flooding back.

My name isn't Ethan Miller. It's Ryan Thorne. The real Ryan Thorne.

The man on that screen had stolen my name, my face, my entire life.

Five years ago, after the crash, Sophia convinced me I was "Ethan Miller," an architect who needed a kidney.

She pointed to the imposter, my long-lost brother, a perfect match for my supposed kidney failure.

I gave him my kidney, my identity, my inheritance. Everything.

Leo, my sweet, sensitive boy, was the only real thing in that fabricated life.

He overheard Sophia and the imposter laughing about their cruel deception.

The man he adored wasn't his father.

Shattered, Leo collapsed. Sophia, knowing his claustrophobia, locked him in the tank for "therapy."

"Dad help. Scared. Dark." His last text.

I found Sophia outside, watching her clock.

"My son shouldn't be weak and afraid. He needs to get over his issues. Besides, how could therapy kill anyone?" she'd said.

I broke in, but it was too late. Leo was gone.

Now, as I held him, the full truth crashed down.

"Mom," I said, dialing a number I hadn't called in five years. "It's Ryan."

"I remember everything," I continued, my gaze fixed on the laughing faces on the TV. "It's time for me to leave."

They took my life. They took my son. I would take it all back.

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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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