Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone

Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone

Gavin

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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.

Introduction

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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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

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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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