Dowry Denied, Destiny Rewritten

Dowry Denied, Destiny Rewritten

Gavin

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The air in the Las Vegas hotel choked with stale champagne and failure. My fiancé, Mark, slumped at the poker table, surrounded by his smirking cousins, Kevin and Brian. A fortune in chips piled before them. Mark' s pile was empty. My heart sank when Kevin announced the amount: "One hundred and eighty thousand dollars." That was my dowry, a fund for our future, our new home. Mark' s mother, Brenda, cornered me, her voice sharp. "You need to fix this, Sarah. It' s a family debt. You have the money. Pay it." My blood ran cold. She wanted my dowry to cover a reckless gambling debt. Mark wouldn' t even look at me, a pathetic man playing for sympathy. "Brenda, that' s... that' s everything we have," I stammered. "What kind of life will you have if your husband is in debt to his own family?" she countered. "Pay it, Sarah. It' s the only way." I looked at Mark, begging him with my eyes to defend us. He just shook his head, a weak gesture of defeat. The pressure was crushing, a trap closing in. My hand trembled as I reached for my purse, numb with shock and a twisted sense of duty. Then, a line of text shimmered in the air, a translucent pop-up. "Kevin and Brian are exchanging triumphant glances. They are predators who just cornered their prey." I blinked, shaking my head, but it was still there. Then another: "Brenda' s eyes are fixed on your purse, gleaming with anticipation, like a hawk watching a mouse." The fog in my brain cleared. This wasn' t tragic loss. This was a performance. A carefully planned scam to steal my money. Seven years of love, crumbling in an instant. The man I was to marry was a conspirator, his mother the mastermind. The devastation felt physical, but a cold, hard anger began to rise. They thought I was a fool. They were wrong. My hand became perfectly steady. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of betrayal. "No," I said, the single word cutting through the tension.

Introduction

The air in the Las Vegas hotel choked with stale champagne and failure.

My fiancé, Mark, slumped at the poker table, surrounded by his smirking cousins, Kevin and Brian.

A fortune in chips piled before them. Mark' s pile was empty.

My heart sank when Kevin announced the amount: "One hundred and eighty thousand dollars."

That was my dowry, a fund for our future, our new home.

Mark' s mother, Brenda, cornered me, her voice sharp. "You need to fix this, Sarah. It' s a family debt. You have the money. Pay it."

My blood ran cold. She wanted my dowry to cover a reckless gambling debt.

Mark wouldn' t even look at me, a pathetic man playing for sympathy.

"Brenda, that' s... that' s everything we have," I stammered.

"What kind of life will you have if your husband is in debt to his own family?" she countered. "Pay it, Sarah. It' s the only way."

I looked at Mark, begging him with my eyes to defend us. He just shook his head, a weak gesture of defeat.

The pressure was crushing, a trap closing in. My hand trembled as I reached for my purse, numb with shock and a twisted sense of duty.

Then, a line of text shimmered in the air, a translucent pop-up.

"Kevin and Brian are exchanging triumphant glances. They are predators who just cornered their prey."

I blinked, shaking my head, but it was still there.

Then another: "Brenda' s eyes are fixed on your purse, gleaming with anticipation, like a hawk watching a mouse."

The fog in my brain cleared. This wasn' t tragic loss. This was a performance. A carefully planned scam to steal my money.

Seven years of love, crumbling in an instant. The man I was to marry was a conspirator, his mother the mastermind.

The devastation felt physical, but a cold, hard anger began to rise.

They thought I was a fool. They were wrong.

My hand became perfectly steady. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of betrayal.

"No," I said, the single word cutting through the tension.

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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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