Divorce: My Unwritten Happy Ending

Divorce: My Unwritten Happy Ending

Gavin

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My world was perfect. My wife, Chloe Davis, the starlet I' d built from the ground up, was adored by millions, and our power-couple image was the envy of Hollywood. Then, a quiet ping on my phone shattered everything: a tabloid photo of Chloe, smiling intimately with an unknown man, a child between them holding both their hands. "Chloe Davis' s Secret Family?" the headline screamed. My mother-in-law' s subsequent call twisted the knife, confirming the child was Chloe' s and coldly stating, "You know you can' t have children. We thought it was for the best." The revelation of her long-held secret child, combined with my supposed infertility-a shared tragedy I thought-felt like a grotesque betrayal. When Chloe calmly proposed we publicly claim the child as adopted to "benefit our brand," I realized the woman I loved was a stranger, viewing our entire marriage as a cold business merger. The love I had for her crumbled to dust. "No," I declared, the word sharp and final. "We' re getting a divorce." She scoffed, dismissing my decision as an inconvenience, not a heartbreak, and suggested I was being "unreasonable." Suddenly, I was the villain in a carefully constructed narrative, the failed husband who couldn' t give his wife what she wanted. My supposed perfect life, built on love and trust, was a lie. Now, the real story begins.

Introduction

My world was perfect.

My wife, Chloe Davis, the starlet I' d built from the ground up, was adored by millions, and our power-couple image was the envy of Hollywood.

Then, a quiet ping on my phone shattered everything: a tabloid photo of Chloe, smiling intimately with an unknown man, a child between them holding both their hands.

"Chloe Davis' s Secret Family?" the headline screamed.

My mother-in-law' s subsequent call twisted the knife, confirming the child was Chloe' s and coldly stating, "You know you can' t have children. We thought it was for the best."

The revelation of her long-held secret child, combined with my supposed infertility-a shared tragedy I thought-felt like a grotesque betrayal.

When Chloe calmly proposed we publicly claim the child as adopted to "benefit our brand," I realized the woman I loved was a stranger, viewing our entire marriage as a cold business merger.

The love I had for her crumbled to dust.

"No," I declared, the word sharp and final.

"We' re getting a divorce."

She scoffed, dismissing my decision as an inconvenience, not a heartbreak, and suggested I was being "unreasonable."

Suddenly, I was the villain in a carefully constructed narrative, the failed husband who couldn' t give his wife what she wanted.

My supposed perfect life, built on love and trust, was a lie.

Now, the real story begins.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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