Contract Marriage With That Ruthless CEO

Contract Marriage With That Ruthless CEO

Gavin

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My life was a perfectly curated dream. Three years with Ethan, a diamond on my finger, and a wedding just a week away-timed perfectly with my family's groundbreaking AI launch that he was a key part of. I, Ava Riley, the brilliant architect, had given him everything-my heart, my connections, my family' s influence. Then, he walked into our penthouse, his face grim, and shattered it all. "It' s Chloe," he said, his ex-girlfriend. "Her mother is dying. Her last wish is to see Chloe get married. To me." My fiancé was going to marry his ex-girlfriend days before our wedding, and he told me with clinical detachment, as if discussing a logistical minor issue. He said it was "filial piety," just "a ceremony, a piece of paper." He expected me to accept this monstrous betrayal, to be "reasonable." My heart didn' t just break, it congealed into ice. I was not his partner; I was a business asset, a temporary stepping stone in his grand design. The humiliation thickened when he had the audacity to suggest using our pre-paid waterfront wedding venue for his impromptu ceremony with Chloe. And then, his true colors emerged. As I refused, his charm vanished, replaced by ugly entitlement, culminating in his fingers digging into my arm. "You have until Saturday to come to your senses," he snarled. "You can either accept this with grace, or you can fight it and lose everything." That physical threat, the raw intimidation, was the final severance. The man I loved was gone, if he ever existed. Only a calculating, abusive stranger remained. I wouldn' t be his victim, nor a footnote in his story. No, I would not cry. I would not scream. I calmly called my brother, Liam. "The wedding is still on for next Saturday," I stated. "Find me a different groom." There was only one man who could make a statement, someone Ethan feared, someone who held a grudge as deep as mine: Lucas Thorne, my family's fiercest rival, a ruthless tech mogul. My brother had one simple question: "Are you sure? He's ruthless." My answer was already forming: "So am I, now." I would play his game, but I would win.

Introduction

My life was a perfectly curated dream.

Three years with Ethan, a diamond on my finger, and a wedding just a week away-timed perfectly with my family's groundbreaking AI launch that he was a key part of.

I, Ava Riley, the brilliant architect, had given him everything-my heart, my connections, my family' s influence.

Then, he walked into our penthouse, his face grim, and shattered it all.

"It' s Chloe," he said, his ex-girlfriend. "Her mother is dying. Her last wish is to see Chloe get married. To me."

My fiancé was going to marry his ex-girlfriend days before our wedding, and he told me with clinical detachment, as if discussing a logistical minor issue.

He said it was "filial piety," just "a ceremony, a piece of paper."

He expected me to accept this monstrous betrayal, to be "reasonable."

My heart didn' t just break, it congealed into ice. I was not his partner; I was a business asset, a temporary stepping stone in his grand design.

The humiliation thickened when he had the audacity to suggest using our pre-paid waterfront wedding venue for his impromptu ceremony with Chloe.

And then, his true colors emerged. As I refused, his charm vanished, replaced by ugly entitlement, culminating in his fingers digging into my arm.

"You have until Saturday to come to your senses," he snarled. "You can either accept this with grace, or you can fight it and lose everything."

That physical threat, the raw intimidation, was the final severance.

The man I loved was gone, if he ever existed. Only a calculating, abusive stranger remained.

I wouldn' t be his victim, nor a footnote in his story.

No, I would not cry. I would not scream.

I calmly called my brother, Liam. "The wedding is still on for next Saturday," I stated.

"Find me a different groom."

There was only one man who could make a statement, someone Ethan feared, someone who held a grudge as deep as mine: Lucas Thorne, my family's fiercest rival, a ruthless tech mogul.

My brother had one simple question: "Are you sure? He's ruthless."

My answer was already forming: "So am I, now."

I would play his game, but I would win.

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I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

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