Shattered Crystal, Broken Love

Shattered Crystal, Broken Love

Gavin

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The crystal shattered, a scream tearing through the quiet afternoon. It was followed by a tiny, terrified gasp from my four-year-old daughter, Lily. I found her frozen in the doorway of Ethan' s study, surrounded by the glittering shards of his limited-edition crystal set. When Ethan appeared, a cold presence blocking the light, he didn' t look at Lily or me, only the broken crystals. "This was a gift," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "From Chloe." Chloe Davis, his spiritual mentor, the ghost in our marriage. "Ethan, it was an accident," I pleaded, shielding Lily. But he ignored me, pulling Lily from my grasp. "Discipline is not a punishment. It is a teaching." He dragged her toward the soundproof meditation room, her panicked sobs echoing: "No, Daddy! Not the quiet room! It' s dark!" "Ethan, no! She' s terrified of enclosed spaces!" I cried, but he pushed her inside. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing off her screams. When he finally let me out an hour later, Lily was gone. No pulse. No breath. Nothing. Hours later, the TV in the living room showed Ethan on a stage, smiling, declaring his devotion to Chloe. My heart shattered, replaced by a cold, hard thought. I called my lawyer. "It' s Sarah Miller. Please draft a divorce agreement for me." The doorbell rang. It was Ethan' s mother, Mrs. Hayes, offering me a staggering check for his "carelessness." "He wasn' t careless," I said, pushing it back. "He was cruel. Your son killed my daughter." I expected shock. I didn' t expect Chloe Davis to walk through my front door, looking like a distressed angel, instantly comforted by Ethan. As she hugged him, she looked at me with a flash of pure, triumphant victory. This wasn't an accident. This was an execution, and she orchestrated it. The cold emptiness inside me ignited into a white-hot rage.

Introduction

The crystal shattered, a scream tearing through the quiet afternoon.

It was followed by a tiny, terrified gasp from my four-year-old daughter, Lily.

I found her frozen in the doorway of Ethan' s study, surrounded by the glittering shards of his limited-edition crystal set.

When Ethan appeared, a cold presence blocking the light, he didn' t look at Lily or me, only the broken crystals.

"This was a gift," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "From Chloe."

Chloe Davis, his spiritual mentor, the ghost in our marriage.

"Ethan, it was an accident," I pleaded, shielding Lily.

But he ignored me, pulling Lily from my grasp. "Discipline is not a punishment. It is a teaching."

He dragged her toward the soundproof meditation room, her panicked sobs echoing: "No, Daddy! Not the quiet room! It' s dark!"

"Ethan, no! She' s terrified of enclosed spaces!" I cried, but he pushed her inside.

The heavy door clicked shut, sealing off her screams.

When he finally let me out an hour later, Lily was gone.

No pulse. No breath. Nothing.

Hours later, the TV in the living room showed Ethan on a stage, smiling, declaring his devotion to Chloe.

My heart shattered, replaced by a cold, hard thought.

I called my lawyer. "It' s Sarah Miller. Please draft a divorce agreement for me."

The doorbell rang. It was Ethan' s mother, Mrs. Hayes, offering me a staggering check for his "carelessness."

"He wasn' t careless," I said, pushing it back. "He was cruel. Your son killed my daughter."

I expected shock. I didn' t expect Chloe Davis to walk through my front door, looking like a distressed angel, instantly comforted by Ethan.

As she hugged him, she looked at me with a flash of pure, triumphant victory.

This wasn't an accident. This was an execution, and she orchestrated it.

The cold emptiness inside me ignited into a white-hot rage.

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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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