Betrayed Bride, Reborn Architect

Betrayed Bride, Reborn Architect

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
161
View
11
Chapters

My masterpiece, "Greenhaven," was about to change the world. Five years of my life, my soul, poured into sustainable architecture, culminating tonight in a grand unveiling. I scanned the ballroom for David, my fiancé, my partner in work and life. We were a team, meant to marry after this launch. But he was distant, cloaked in late-night meetings, telling me to trust him. Then I saw him on stage, not with me, but with Victoria Hayes, my ruthless rival, her arm possessively around his waist. The CEO announced "Elysian Fields," a project backed by David Thompson and Victoria Hayes. My designs flashed on screen, every detail mine, but my name was nowhere. The applause was thunderous. David leaned into the microphone, his smile sickeningly bright. "Victoria has not only been my partner in business but has become the partner of my heart. We're engaged." Cameras flashed, capturing their faces, the thieves who stole my life's work and my future. My phone vibrated: a text from my boss. "Don't come to the office tomorrow. You're done. We can't be associated with this kind of scandal." Blacklisted, ruined. In one moment, I lost my project, my fiancé, my career. My world, built around David, crumbled. I stumbled out into the night, nowhere to go. My apartment was our apartment; my friends our friends. I had one last, desperate hope: my estranged uncle Robert. He was a disgraced civil engineer, a recluse I hadn't spoken to in a decade. "Sarah?" he answered, his voice raspy. "Uncle Robert," I choked, "I need help. I have nowhere else to go." A long pause, then: "I have a car coming for you. It will be there in twenty minutes. It will bring you to me." He hung up. Sliding down the cold brick wall, I understood. I was leaving my old life behind, a lie. I was running toward a future I couldn't imagine, a future that began with a man I barely knew. My only family left. But the betrayal didn't stop there. Weeks later, David arrived at my uncle's, demanding I sign away my design rights, threatening to sue me for breach of partnership. Victoria emerged, displaying expertly faked emails framing me for industrial espionage. "Sign the papers, Sarah," Victoria hissed. "Or this gets leaked to every news outlet and the district attorney. Industrial espionage carries a hefty prison sentence." Just when I thought I was utterly trapped, two large men grabbed me. "Take her. We'll hold her somewhere she can have time to reconsider her position." I was thrown into a car, plunged into darkness. They weren't just destroying my career; they were taking my freedom. The cold isolation in their private facility was designed to break me, but it only fueled my rage. Victoria appeared, demanding I sign a confession, cementing their false narrative. "No," I defied. The guard tasered me. But the real breaking point came when Victoria, with chilling calm, slammed a heavy book onto my hand, twisting my fingers at unnatural angles. "Architects are nothing without their hands," she sneered. My scream echoed the agony and a new, burning hatred. They were celebrating their wedding in my designed atrium in two days, while I was imprisoned, crippled. They aimed to destroy me, but they had only forged me into something stronger. This was no longer about a career or a broken heart. This was about justice. This was war.

Introduction

My masterpiece, "Greenhaven," was about to change the world.

Five years of my life, my soul, poured into sustainable architecture, culminating tonight in a grand unveiling.

I scanned the ballroom for David, my fiancé, my partner in work and life.

We were a team, meant to marry after this launch.

But he was distant, cloaked in late-night meetings, telling me to trust him.

Then I saw him on stage, not with me, but with Victoria Hayes, my ruthless rival, her arm possessively around his waist.

The CEO announced "Elysian Fields," a project backed by David Thompson and Victoria Hayes.

My designs flashed on screen, every detail mine, but my name was nowhere.

The applause was thunderous.

David leaned into the microphone, his smile sickeningly bright.

"Victoria has not only been my partner in business but has become the partner of my heart. We're engaged."

Cameras flashed, capturing their faces, the thieves who stole my life's work and my future.

My phone vibrated: a text from my boss.

"Don't come to the office tomorrow. You're done. We can't be associated with this kind of scandal."

Blacklisted, ruined.

In one moment, I lost my project, my fiancé, my career.

My world, built around David, crumbled.

I stumbled out into the night, nowhere to go.

My apartment was our apartment; my friends our friends.

I had one last, desperate hope: my estranged uncle Robert.

He was a disgraced civil engineer, a recluse I hadn't spoken to in a decade.

"Sarah?" he answered, his voice raspy.

"Uncle Robert," I choked, "I need help. I have nowhere else to go."

A long pause, then: "I have a car coming for you. It will be there in twenty minutes. It will bring you to me."

He hung up.

Sliding down the cold brick wall, I understood.

I was leaving my old life behind, a lie.

I was running toward a future I couldn't imagine, a future that began with a man I barely knew.

My only family left.

But the betrayal didn't stop there.

Weeks later, David arrived at my uncle's, demanding I sign away my design rights, threatening to sue me for breach of partnership.

Victoria emerged, displaying expertly faked emails framing me for industrial espionage.

"Sign the papers, Sarah," Victoria hissed. "Or this gets leaked to every news outlet and the district attorney. Industrial espionage carries a hefty prison sentence."

Just when I thought I was utterly trapped, two large men grabbed me.

"Take her. We'll hold her somewhere she can have time to reconsider her position."

I was thrown into a car, plunged into darkness.

They weren't just destroying my career; they were taking my freedom.

The cold isolation in their private facility was designed to break me, but it only fueled my rage.

Victoria appeared, demanding I sign a confession, cementing their false narrative.

"No," I defied.

The guard tasered me.

But the real breaking point came when Victoria, with chilling calm, slammed a heavy book onto my hand, twisting my fingers at unnatural angles.

"Architects are nothing without their hands," she sneered.

My scream echoed the agony and a new, burning hatred.

They were celebrating their wedding in my designed atrium in two days, while I was imprisoned, crippled.

They aimed to destroy me, but they had only forged me into something stronger.

This was no longer about a career or a broken heart.

This was about justice.

This was war.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
The Truth About His Mistress

The Truth About His Mistress

Short stories

4.7

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book