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This Time I Chose Him

This Time I Chose Him

Gavin

5.0
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11
Chapters

The list lay on the polished mahogany table, four names, my future, dictated by my father. Just four heirs to the city' s most powerful families. The world expected me to choose Ethan Miller, the charming heir I had publicly chased for years. They thought they knew our story, the pathetic heiress hopelessly in love. They didn' t know the real story, the one that ended with the screech of tires and the crushing impact of metal. I remembered the joy of my wedding day, shattered a year later when he declared our marriage a sham, publicly embracing his assistant, Sophia, his supposed true love. Then Sophia vanished, and Ethan turned his grief into a weapon against me. He brought home a new woman with Sophia' s gentle eyes every week, forcing me to endure his cruel reminders. The last thing I remembered was his unfeeling face as paramedics pulled my broken body from the car wreckage – the brakes had failed. It was no accident. Six months ago, I woke up in my own bed, nineteen again, the cold truth a burning scar on my soul. My heart went cold, a familiar chill, as I looked at the list. I would not choose Ethan Miller. I would not walk that path again. My finger traced past his name, landing on Liam Thorne. He was quiet, often overlooked, but he was kind. This time, my definition of smart had changed. It was no longer about power or passion. It was about survival.

Introduction

The list lay on the polished mahogany table, four names, my future, dictated by my father.

Just four heirs to the city' s most powerful families.

The world expected me to choose Ethan Miller, the charming heir I had publicly chased for years.

They thought they knew our story, the pathetic heiress hopelessly in love.

They didn' t know the real story, the one that ended with the screech of tires and the crushing impact of metal.

I remembered the joy of my wedding day, shattered a year later when he declared our marriage a sham, publicly embracing his assistant, Sophia, his supposed true love.

Then Sophia vanished, and Ethan turned his grief into a weapon against me.

He brought home a new woman with Sophia' s gentle eyes every week, forcing me to endure his cruel reminders.

The last thing I remembered was his unfeeling face as paramedics pulled my broken body from the car wreckage – the brakes had failed. It was no accident.

Six months ago, I woke up in my own bed, nineteen again, the cold truth a burning scar on my soul.

My heart went cold, a familiar chill, as I looked at the list.

I would not choose Ethan Miller.

I would not walk that path again.

My finger traced past his name, landing on Liam Thorne.

He was quiet, often overlooked, but he was kind.

This time, my definition of smart had changed. It was no longer about power or passion. It was about survival.

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Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone

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It was supposed to be my graduation celebration, a dinner hosted by my best friends. Brandon, our class president, raised a glass to me, "The quiet genius." But their smiles felt like traps, and when Chloe, my fiancée, squeezed my arm, her touch was cold, her perfume reeked of secrets. Then I saw it-a text on Chloe' s phone from Brandon: "The laxatives are in the sauce for everyone else. Just make sure he doesn't leave." My celebratory dinner wasn't a party; it was a setup to frame me, leave me with a massive bill, and ruin my future. When I tried to leave, they blocked the exit, and Brandon, with a triumphant smirk, snatched my backpack. He pulled out my sealed Stanford acceptance letter and scholarships, then ripped them to shreds, letting the confetti of my future flutter to the floor. Before I could process the devastation, they dragged me, screaming, into a dark, windowless utility closet-a cruel echo of a childhood nightmare Chloe herself had orchestrated. The walls closed in, and I gasped for air, panic seizing me as their laughter mocked me from outside. "We'll let you out when you learn some respect," Brandon' s voice taunted. How could these people, my supposed best friends, my fiancée, plot such a cruel, calculated destruction of my life? Why did they hate me so much? Clutching my phone, I knew I couldn't just survive; I had to fight back, not with their petty cruelty, but with every weapon I had. This wasn't a prank; it was a war, and I was just getting started.

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Finding Love After the Drain

Finding Love After the Drain

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Emily' s smile was as bright as the new silver pen she held out to me, a pen she said would bring me good luck for finding a new job. But I knew better. Every "lucky" gift from her had cost me dearly. My last job, a stable marketing position, vanished after she gave me a "lucky" desktop plant. Then a designer handbag led to my wallet being stolen. And a set of wine glasses she gave me and Mark on our anniversary led to our worst fight ever, and then he left me, only to start dating Emily two weeks later. They became the city' s golden couple, their success built on my ruin. My parents, who adored Emily, couldn't see it. "Things just seem to go wrong around you, Sarah," my boss had said, echoing my family' s common accusation: I was truly unlucky. But I knew the truth. Emily had confessed it herself: "Because you had all the luck, Sarah. These little gifts… they' re not for you. They' re for me. They take your good fortune and transfer it to me. Your job paid for my gallery representation. Your boyfriend… well, I think I' ll keep him. You' re not unlucky, Sarah. You' re a battery. And you' re just about drained." Now, holding a pen that felt like poison, I realized I wouldn' t be a victim anymore. My old self had died with everything I' d lost, but a new, cold resolve was forming. I was a battery, yes, but now I would choose who got drained. I reached into my purse for my grandmother' s locket, the one thing Emily had never touched, my last hope. The game was about to change.

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Three days before my wedding, I held the invitations, a bright future with Chloe Davis unfolding before me. I decided to surprise her at her final dress fitting, full of stupid, happy optimism. But through the boutique window, I saw her with Ethan Miller, her "first love," the broke con artist I'd repeatedly paid off at Chloe's tearful request. Then, hidden in an alley, I heard their conversation: my meticulously planned life was a calculated scam. She called me "pathetic," a "tool," a "walking ATM." She even bragged about how easy I was to manipulate. My five years of pouring everything into her-paying off her loans, buying her a car and her mother a condo, giving Ethan tens of thousands-all of it was a lie designed to extract every penny before she discarded me. The invitations slipped from my numb fingers, scattering on the dirty asphalt as memories flooded back, each sweet moment now tainted with cold, cynical calculation. My heart, once full, was now a charred, worthless spot. The most horrific truth came out when she intentionally crashed our car on the freeway, shattering my leg. She escaped untouched, called Ethan, and left me for dead, only to flaunt her Vegas trip with him on social media, using my credit card, while I fought for my life. I was broken, not just by her betrayal, but by the realization that she hadn' t just hurt me; she had actively despised me, plotting to destroy me and even poisoning my mother to hasten my inheritance. But I wouldn't just be used and discarded. No. This was no longer about a broken heart. This was about my mother. This was about justice.

His Robot Love, Her Broken Heart

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For five years, New York society envied me, Ava Riley, the perfectly devoted wife to tech titan Liam Carter. Though legally blind, I felt his love in every touch, every whispered word, convinced I was the luckiest woman alive. But one night, a searing pain shot through my head, a shocking kaleidoscope of color exploded behind my eyelids, and then-I could see. My vision, blurry but real, focused on the bed. It wasn't Liam on top of me. It was a faceless, flawless robot, moving with the practiced intimacy I believed belonged to my husband. Then I saw Liam across the room, wrapped around a perfect, lifelike doll-his adopted sister, Sophia. Every intimate moment of our five-year marriage, every cherished touch, had been a vile, mechanical lie. The truth crashed down: I was just a blind prop in his twisted obsession, a placeholder for the woman he truly desired. When I confronted this horrifying reality, Sophia pushed me down the stairs, and I lost our baby. But Liam' s concern wasn't for me. He protected Sophia, dismissing my pain, our child, and even me, as collateral damage, painting me as an "emotionally unstable liar" to cover their tracks. How could the man I loved betray me so utterly? How could my own sacrifice have led to such a depraved deception? My heart didn't just break; it became a cold, hard stone of disbelief and fury. Lying in that hospital bed, rage burning through my soul, I ripped up Liam' s seven-figure "hush money" check, looked Sophia directly in her astonished eyes, and declared, "I' m divorcing him. And I' m not going quietly. I' m going to take everything."

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