Ten Years A Prisoner, Now Free

Ten Years A Prisoner, Now Free

Gavin

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The first thing I felt was a single tear tracing a path down my temple. For ten years, my body had been a prison, a vessel for a consciousness trapped in a silent, black ocean. My fiancé, David Chen, stood over my bed, his face a mask of shock. "Sarah?" he whispered, his voice trembling, right before he confessed, "If it weren't for that accident... Emily would have been my fiancée. We wronged her." These words confirmed the haunting whisperings from my coma. I had felt everything: the burning dyes Emily tested on me for her "revolutionary" fabrics, my body becoming a roadmap of her cruelty. I heard David agree to it all, authorizing the transfer of my fortune to fund her reckless ventures. He had called her his true love on a stage lit by my money, while I lay in a managed care facility, a footnote in my own story. Now, he looked at me with false sincerity, "Just one more treatment, Sarah... After this, I promise, I'll love you. I'll take care of you forever." His belated affection was worthless, his promises ash. Why was he suddenly trying to mend things? Why claim he loved me now, after a decade of betrayal? Another tear escaped, not for sorrow, but for a cold, hard fury that had simmered for a decade. It was the last tear I would ever shed for him. That night, a fire started in Emily Miller's celebrated design studio. It wasn't an accident. It was a message.

Introduction

The first thing I felt was a single tear tracing a path down my temple. For ten years, my body had been a prison, a vessel for a consciousness trapped in a silent, black ocean. My fiancé, David Chen, stood over my bed, his face a mask of shock.

"Sarah?" he whispered, his voice trembling, right before he confessed, "If it weren't for that accident... Emily would have been my fiancée. We wronged her." These words confirmed the haunting whisperings from my coma.

I had felt everything: the burning dyes Emily tested on me for her "revolutionary" fabrics, my body becoming a roadmap of her cruelty. I heard David agree to it all, authorizing the transfer of my fortune to fund her reckless ventures. He had called her his true love on a stage lit by my money, while I lay in a managed care facility, a footnote in my own story.

Now, he looked at me with false sincerity, "Just one more treatment, Sarah... After this, I promise, I'll love you. I'll take care of you forever." His belated affection was worthless, his promises ash.

Why was he suddenly trying to mend things? Why claim he loved me now, after a decade of betrayal?

Another tear escaped, not for sorrow, but for a cold, hard fury that had simmered for a decade. It was the last tear I would ever shed for him. That night, a fire started in Emily Miller's celebrated design studio. It wasn't an accident. It was a message.

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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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