Her Envy, My Unbreakable Heart

Her Envy, My Unbreakable Heart

Gavin

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My life was perfect, or as close to it as an art student could dream. I was the top candidate for the prestigious Atherton scholarship, a full ride that would launch my career, my paintings getting noticed, my grades stellar. Then my roommate, Chloe, pressed a tarnished silver locket into my palm, a "good luck" charm to secure my future. From that day, my life inexplicably soared, every creative block vanished, every anxiety quelled. Until the day the scholarship was announced. The gallery was packed, my paintings front and center, proud and beaming. And then, a searing pain, blinding and brutal, tore through my abdomen. I collapsed, screaming, the world blurring into a chaotic nightmare of pain and blood. Right there, under the bright lights, I gave birth. The scandal was instant, absolute, splashed across every headline: "Miracle Birth or Immoral Hoax? Art Student' s Public Scandal." The university revoked my scholarship, my parents disowned me, and my friends vanished. My future shattered, the baby taken away, I found myself alone in a cheap motel, walking to a bridge, looking at the dark, swirling water below. I only understood why everything happened after I died. The locket wasn't for luck, but a cursed object. It drained life essence and transferred stolen pregnancies. And the mastermind was Chloe, consumed by envy, orchestrating my downfall to claim my scholarship and my baby' s wealthy father. My soul screamed with a rage that transcended death. Then, a violent pull. I gasped, my eyes flying open. I wasn' t falling into cold water. I was back in my dorm room, the smell of oil paint thick in the air. Chloe stood before me, hand outstretched, the antique silver locket gleaming. "For good luck," she said, her voice dripping with the poison I could finally hear. I was back, and this time, the ending would be different.

Introduction

My life was perfect, or as close to it as an art student could dream.

I was the top candidate for the prestigious Atherton scholarship, a full ride that would launch my career, my paintings getting noticed, my grades stellar.

Then my roommate, Chloe, pressed a tarnished silver locket into my palm, a "good luck" charm to secure my future.

From that day, my life inexplicably soared, every creative block vanished, every anxiety quelled.

Until the day the scholarship was announced.

The gallery was packed, my paintings front and center, proud and beaming.

And then, a searing pain, blinding and brutal, tore through my abdomen.

I collapsed, screaming, the world blurring into a chaotic nightmare of pain and blood.

Right there, under the bright lights, I gave birth.

The scandal was instant, absolute, splashed across every headline: "Miracle Birth or Immoral Hoax? Art Student' s Public Scandal."

The university revoked my scholarship, my parents disowned me, and my friends vanished.

My future shattered, the baby taken away, I found myself alone in a cheap motel, walking to a bridge, looking at the dark, swirling water below.

I only understood why everything happened after I died.

The locket wasn't for luck, but a cursed object.

It drained life essence and transferred stolen pregnancies.

And the mastermind was Chloe, consumed by envy, orchestrating my downfall to claim my scholarship and my baby' s wealthy father.

My soul screamed with a rage that transcended death.

Then, a violent pull.

I gasped, my eyes flying open.

I wasn' t falling into cold water.

I was back in my dorm room, the smell of oil paint thick in the air.

Chloe stood before me, hand outstretched, the antique silver locket gleaming.

"For good luck," she said, her voice dripping with the poison I could finally hear.

I was back, and this time, the ending would be different.

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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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