A Bride's Shattered Illusion

A Bride's Shattered Illusion

Gavin

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The package arrived on the eve of my wedding, a small, elegant box from a high-end photo studio, but instead of a gift from my fiancé, Brandon, I found a single photograph. It showed Brandon, arm tightly wrapped around his assistant, Chloe Miller, both in wedding attire, smiling wide and genuine. A text from an unknown number confirmed my worst fear: "Miss Reed, Chloe was so excited about her wedding dress fitting with Mr. Scott. They make a lovely couple, don't they?" When Brandon finally arrived home, Chloe by his side, she stammered a flimsy excuse about a "friend's wedding," but my eyes were fixed on him. My fiancé, the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow, waved a dismissive hand. "Don't make a scene over nothing. You know how important tomorrow is for the family's image." He saw my silence as weakness, his confidence unwavering in his control over me. As he reassured Chloe, I calmly retrieved my packed suitcases, ready to leave. My life with Brandon, built on years of protection and a secret courthouse marriage, flashed before my eyes. Ten years ago, I was his protector at the orphanage; five years ago, I sacrificed my dreams for his promise of a future. Now, I was just "simple, easy to manage," a pawn in his family' s business merger. The photo didn' t just break my heart; it shattered the illusion, revealing the cold, hard truth of my position, spurring me to declare, "I want a divorce." Brandon' s face darkened, and he tore the photo, believing he could erase the betrayal. He then tried to intimidate me, reminding me, "The apartment, the car, the money-it' s all from me. You' ll be back on the streets." But his threats, and his desperate pleas, no longer worked. I was finally choosing myself.

Introduction

The package arrived on the eve of my wedding, a small, elegant box from a high-end photo studio, but instead of a gift from my fiancé, Brandon, I found a single photograph.

It showed Brandon, arm tightly wrapped around his assistant, Chloe Miller, both in wedding attire, smiling wide and genuine. A text from an unknown number confirmed my worst fear: "Miss Reed, Chloe was so excited about her wedding dress fitting with Mr. Scott. They make a lovely couple, don't they?"

When Brandon finally arrived home, Chloe by his side, she stammered a flimsy excuse about a "friend's wedding," but my eyes were fixed on him. My fiancé, the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow, waved a dismissive hand. "Don't make a scene over nothing. You know how important tomorrow is for the family's image." He saw my silence as weakness, his confidence unwavering in his control over me. As he reassured Chloe, I calmly retrieved my packed suitcases, ready to leave.

My life with Brandon, built on years of protection and a secret courthouse marriage, flashed before my eyes. Ten years ago, I was his protector at the orphanage; five years ago, I sacrificed my dreams for his promise of a future. Now, I was just "simple, easy to manage," a pawn in his family' s business merger.

The photo didn' t just break my heart; it shattered the illusion, revealing the cold, hard truth of my position, spurring me to declare, "I want a divorce."

Brandon' s face darkened, and he tore the photo, believing he could erase the betrayal. He then tried to intimidate me, reminding me, "The apartment, the car, the money-it' s all from me. You' ll be back on the streets." But his threats, and his desperate pleas, no longer worked. I was finally choosing myself.

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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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