When The Victim Becomes The Predator

When The Victim Becomes The Predator

Gavin

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My cousin Liam has a hobby. It' s ruining my life. Every time I found a girl I genuinely liked, he' d swoop in, charm her, and orchestrate a public, humiliating breakup. For years, I played the victim, internalizing the laughter and pity, dismissed by my mother as merely "jealous." But this time, with Chloe Jenkins, I wasn't just waiting for the storm. I built it. I watched as Liam Davis, parasite extraordinaire, took the bait. He flaunted Chloe on social media, convinced she was another notch on his belt, funded by his ex-wife Sarah' s endless alimony checks. Then, Sarah revealed Liam was living on borrowed time, off credit cards in her name. It was all a carefully laid trap, and he walked right into it, dragging Chloe and himself into a spiral of fraud and deception. He showed up at my door, a ghost of the man who terrorized my youth, wild-eyed and desperate. "You set this all up," he snarled as two menacing figures dragged me into a black SUV. He threw the first punch, my head snapping against the window. This wasn' t just about humiliation anymore; it was about survival. But Liam forgot one crucial detail: I wasn' t the only player in this game. And as his broken body plunged into the dark water, pulled down by the very current he created, I finally understood. Freedom wasn't a gift. It was a weapon, forged in years of pain, and wielded with precision.

Introduction

My cousin Liam has a hobby. It' s ruining my life.

Every time I found a girl I genuinely liked, he' d swoop in, charm her, and orchestrate a public, humiliating breakup.

For years, I played the victim, internalizing the laughter and pity, dismissed by my mother as merely "jealous."

But this time, with Chloe Jenkins,

I wasn't just waiting for the storm.

I built it.

I watched as Liam Davis, parasite extraordinaire, took the bait.

He flaunted Chloe on social media, convinced she was another notch on his belt, funded by his ex-wife Sarah' s endless alimony checks.

Then, Sarah revealed Liam was living on borrowed time, off credit cards in her name.

It was all a carefully laid trap, and he walked right into it, dragging Chloe and himself into a spiral of fraud and deception.

He showed up at my door, a ghost of the man who terrorized my youth, wild-eyed and desperate.

"You set this all up," he snarled as two menacing figures dragged me into a black SUV.

He threw the first punch, my head snapping against the window.

This wasn' t just about humiliation anymore; it was about survival.

But Liam forgot one crucial detail: I wasn' t the only player in this game.

And as his broken body plunged into the dark water, pulled down by the very current he created, I finally understood.

Freedom wasn't a gift.

It was a weapon, forged in years of pain, and wielded with precision.

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His Secret Son, Her Stolen Fortune

His Secret Son, Her Stolen Fortune

Short stories

4.3

I found the document by accident. Aiden was away, and I was looking for my mother' s old earrings in the safe when my fingers brushed against a thick, unfamiliar file folder. It wasn't mine. It was the "Herrera Family Trust," and the primary beneficiary of Aiden' s massive fortune wasn't me, his wife of seven years. It was a five-year-old boy named Leo Herrera, and his legal guardian, listed as the secondary beneficiary, was Haven Herrera-my adopted sister-in-law. My family lawyer confirmed it an hour later. It was real. Ironclad. Established five years ago. The phone slipped from my hand. A cold numbness spread through me. Seven years. I had spent seven years justifying Aiden's madness, his rages, his possessiveness, believing it was a twisted part of his love. I stumbled through the cold, silent mansion to the east wing, drawn by the sound of laughter. Through the glass doors, I saw them: Aiden, bouncing Leo on his knee, Haven beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. And with them, smiling and cooing at the child, were Aiden's parents. My in-laws. They were a perfect family. "Aiden, the final transfer of the Knox assets into Leo' s trust is complete," his father said, raising a glass of champagne. "It's all airtight now." "Good," Aiden replied, his voice calm. "Charlotte's family money should have always belonged to a true Herrera heir." My inheritance. My family's legacy. Transferred to his secret son. My own money, used to secure the future of his betrayal. They had all known. They had all conspired. His rage, his paranoia, his sickness-it wasn't for everyone. It was a special hell he had reserved just for me. I backed away from the door, my body cold as ice. I ran back to our bedroom, the one we had shared for seven years, and locked the door. I looked at my reflection, at the ghost of the woman I used to be. A quiet vow formed on my lips, silent but absolute. "Aiden Herrera," I whispered to the empty room. "I will never see you again."

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The Wine Press
4.6

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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