A Bride Forged in Fire

A Bride Forged in Fire

Gavin

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The scent of gasoline and burning silk was the last thing I knew on my wedding day. Flames danced around me, illuminating my new husband, Liam Thompson, my stepbrother, as he clutched a locket with my stepmother Sarah' s picture. "You ruined it all, Ava," he sneered, his face contorted with a hatred I' d never imagined. He carved Sarah' s name into my skin and then forced the locket down my throat, piece by agonizing piece. The suffocation, the searing pain, the betrayal-they were a twisted sacrament to a love I was only just beginning to comprehend, a love that would consume us all. Then, darkness. I awoke to the antiseptic smell of my familiar bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window. Downstairs, Liam' s frantic yelling and Sarah' s feigned sobs echoed from below, a chilling replay of the day my life ended before. It was real. I was back. Back to the day of the incident, the day my father signed away my future to protect his pride, the day I walked like a prisoner to my own execution. The humiliation, the pain, the fire-never again. A sharp knock on my door. It was Sophia, my "best friend," feigning concern, ready to lead me into the trap. "Ava? Are you in there? Something terrible is happening downstairs!" she called. But this time, I wouldn't be the victim. I smiled, a cold, sharp curve on my lips. "A Céleste purse like that is more important. You deserve it." As her footsteps faded down the hall, racing for a status symbol, I knew this was my chance. Let the real performance begin.

Introduction

The scent of gasoline and burning silk was the last thing I knew on my wedding day.

Flames danced around me, illuminating my new husband, Liam Thompson, my stepbrother, as he clutched a locket with my stepmother Sarah' s picture.

"You ruined it all, Ava," he sneered, his face contorted with a hatred I' d never imagined.

He carved Sarah' s name into my skin and then forced the locket down my throat, piece by agonizing piece.

The suffocation, the searing pain, the betrayal-they were a twisted sacrament to a love I was only just beginning to comprehend, a love that would consume us all.

Then, darkness.

I awoke to the antiseptic smell of my familiar bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window.

Downstairs, Liam' s frantic yelling and Sarah' s feigned sobs echoed from below, a chilling replay of the day my life ended before.

It was real. I was back.

Back to the day of the incident, the day my father signed away my future to protect his pride, the day I walked like a prisoner to my own execution.

The humiliation, the pain, the fire-never again.

A sharp knock on my door. It was Sophia, my "best friend," feigning concern, ready to lead me into the trap.

"Ava? Are you in there? Something terrible is happening downstairs!" she called.

But this time, I wouldn't be the victim.

I smiled, a cold, sharp curve on my lips. "A Céleste purse like that is more important. You deserve it."

As her footsteps faded down the hall, racing for a status symbol, I knew this was my chance.

Let the real performance begin.

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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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