When Innocence Masks Deceit

When Innocence Masks Deceit

Gavin

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The memory was seared into my brain. The stale air of the abandoned warehouse, the terrified breathing of the hostage, and the shrill, righteous voice of rookie Emily Davis. That was my first life, a life that ended in disgrace because of her. Emily insisted she could calm the kidnapper, disregarding my direct order to stay put. She broke formation, stepped into the open, and a single gunshot echoed. Chris Walker, a college kid with his whole life ahead of him, slumped to the floor. Then, Emily started to cry, loud, gut-wrenching wails, as if she were the biggest victim. Our colleagues rushed to her side, offering sympathy while I stared at the cooling body of Chris Walker. My rage, cold and hard, filled my chest. "You wanted to help? You got him killed. You broke every rule in the book." Emily looked up, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence. "Why are you so mean, Sarah? I was just trying to save a life." She theatrically banged her head against the wall, whimpering, "It should have been me!" Lieutenant Miller, my superior, cradled her like a child, then turned his cold eyes on me. "Jenkins, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see she's suffering?" The department needed a scapegoat. The media was having a field day, and it was easier to blame the cold, no-nonsense veteran, Sarah Jenkins, than the sweet, innocent rookie who "just wanted to help." They threw me to the wolves. My career was ruined, my name was mud. I died with that weight on my soul. Until I opened my eyes. The same stale air. The same sense of dread. I was back in the warehouse, moments before everything went wrong. Emily Davis was repeating the exact same words, getting ready to make the same fatal mistake. But not this time.

Introduction

The memory was seared into my brain. The stale air of the abandoned warehouse, the terrified breathing of the hostage, and the shrill, righteous voice of rookie Emily Davis. That was my first life, a life that ended in disgrace because of her.

Emily insisted she could calm the kidnapper, disregarding my direct order to stay put. She broke formation, stepped into the open, and a single gunshot echoed. Chris Walker, a college kid with his whole life ahead of him, slumped to the floor.

Then, Emily started to cry, loud, gut-wrenching wails, as if she were the biggest victim. Our colleagues rushed to her side, offering sympathy while I stared at the cooling body of Chris Walker. My rage, cold and hard, filled my chest. "You wanted to help? You got him killed. You broke every rule in the book."

Emily looked up, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence. "Why are you so mean, Sarah? I was just trying to save a life." She theatrically banged her head against the wall, whimpering, "It should have been me!" Lieutenant Miller, my superior, cradled her like a child, then turned his cold eyes on me. "Jenkins, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see she's suffering?"

The department needed a scapegoat. The media was having a field day, and it was easier to blame the cold, no-nonsense veteran, Sarah Jenkins, than the sweet, innocent rookie who "just wanted to help." They threw me to the wolves. My career was ruined, my name was mud. I died with that weight on my soul.

Until I opened my eyes. The same stale air. The same sense of dread. I was back in the warehouse, moments before everything went wrong. Emily Davis was repeating the exact same words, getting ready to make the same fatal mistake. But not this time.

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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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