Her Escape, His Eternal Loss

Her Escape, His Eternal Loss

Gavin

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The familiar ache pulsed behind my eyes, a constant companion in the sterile white room where sheets matched my pale, bruised skin. They had given me electric shock therapy again, leaving my mind a fog of agony. A key turned, and in walked Ethan Miller, the man I was supposed to marry, his face handsome but cold, etched with pity and disgust. "Still acting like this, Chloe?" he snapped, accusing me of hurting a nurse-a lie I was too broken to fight. Then Liam Thorne, my half-brother, joined him, an insincere mask of concern plastered on his face. "See, Ethan? She' s completely gone," Liam purred, blaming my supposed violent tendencies on the stress of his "illness." Ethan, my savior turned accomplice, instantly sided with Liam, his trust absolute. But then Mark Evans, a childhood friend turned doctor, assessed my condition, his voice serious as he unveiled the severe trauma and abuse they' d inflicted on me. Liam quickly deflected, accusing me of self-harm, a narrative Ethan chillingly affirmed. Liam then proposed transferring me to a private institution, the 'Thorne Wellness Center' -a name that sent a jolt of terror through me, a prison designed just for me. Desperate, I pleaded with Ethan, "Please, don' t take me there. I' ll do anything." He hesitated, a flicker of the old Ethan visible, and agreed to take me home. But Liam intervened, whispering manipulations, leading me back into the trap. I screamed as orderlies grabbed me, but it was too late. They injected the sedative, and I went limp, my savior watching as he condemned me. The torture at Thorne Wellness Center was worse than I could have imagined, leaving my mind fractured, my body starved. When Ethan finally came to pick me up, he was horrified by the skeletal, lifeless woman I had become. In that moment, a plan formed in my fragmented mind. I had to escape, even if it meant jumping from a second-story window. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped from my gilded cage, running, barefoot and silent, into the night.

Introduction

The familiar ache pulsed behind my eyes, a constant companion in the sterile white room where sheets matched my pale, bruised skin.

They had given me electric shock therapy again, leaving my mind a fog of agony.

A key turned, and in walked Ethan Miller, the man I was supposed to marry, his face handsome but cold, etched with pity and disgust.

"Still acting like this, Chloe?" he snapped, accusing me of hurting a nurse-a lie I was too broken to fight.

Then Liam Thorne, my half-brother, joined him, an insincere mask of concern plastered on his face.

"See, Ethan? She' s completely gone," Liam purred, blaming my supposed violent tendencies on the stress of his "illness."

Ethan, my savior turned accomplice, instantly sided with Liam, his trust absolute.

But then Mark Evans, a childhood friend turned doctor, assessed my condition, his voice serious as he unveiled the severe trauma and abuse they' d inflicted on me.

Liam quickly deflected, accusing me of self-harm, a narrative Ethan chillingly affirmed.

Liam then proposed transferring me to a private institution, the 'Thorne Wellness Center' -a name that sent a jolt of terror through me, a prison designed just for me.

Desperate, I pleaded with Ethan, "Please, don' t take me there. I' ll do anything."

He hesitated, a flicker of the old Ethan visible, and agreed to take me home.

But Liam intervened, whispering manipulations, leading me back into the trap.

I screamed as orderlies grabbed me, but it was too late.

They injected the sedative, and I went limp, my savior watching as he condemned me.

The torture at Thorne Wellness Center was worse than I could have imagined, leaving my mind fractured, my body starved.

When Ethan finally came to pick me up, he was horrified by the skeletal, lifeless woman I had become.

In that moment, a plan formed in my fragmented mind.

I had to escape, even if it meant jumping from a second-story window.

Under the cover of darkness, I slipped from my gilded cage, running, barefoot and silent, into the night.

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The judge' s voice was a low drone, stamping out the last echoes of a life I barely recognized. "Divorce granted." My husband, Daniel, wasn' t there, called away by "duty"-a last-minute training, his lawyer smoothly explained. It was always duty, always Olivia, his "fragile" niece, who overshadowed everything. My last day at the fire station, a small comfort, was shattered when Daniel appeared, asking me to drop the papers. He even tried a surprise birthday gift, only to abandon me when Olivia had another "panic attack." I filed for divorce, expediting my transfer to a small town. But before I could leave, Daniel burst in with Olivia, whose innocent eyes hid a smirk. They' d invaded my last sanctuary. Then, I overheard Olivia, the so-called fragile niece, passionately kissing Daniel while begging him to choose her and "let me go." My world crumbled. This wasn't a family; it was a sick, twisted drama. I was the villain, destroying their codependent world. And then Olivia, in a dramatic display, ran headfirst into a wall, collapsing in a pool of blood. Daniel scooped her up, his eyes accusing me. My fault. Always my fault. I didn' t understand. How could I be blamed for her manipulative antics? How could he be so blind? This wasn't just about an affair; it was a decade of emotional suffocation. I was drowning, and he was too focused on her tears to notice. I picked up the divorce papers, the ones he hadn't received because Olivia had intercepted them. The true nature of their warped bond finally became horrifyingly clear. I drove away, toward a new city, a new life, finally ready to let go of the man who had loved duty more than me-or so I thought.

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