From Pawn to CEO Queen

From Pawn to CEO Queen

Mu Hui Xin

5.0
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The phone rang, splitting the quiet of my father's funeral home. It was Mark, my boyfriend of three years, who was supposed to be here holding my hand. "Ava," he rushed, "I can't make it. Chloe's having another panic attack." The air in my lungs turned to ice. Chloe Davis, a friend of a friend, always "fragile," always needing Mark. My voice broke as I whispered, "Mark, I have no one right now but you." He called me strong, an excuse to abandon me at my weakest. Later that night, he finally came home, exhausted from comforting Chloe. He looked at me with cold eyes. "About the house your father left you... Chloe's landlord is kicking her out." He suggested I sign my father's house, the only thing I had left, over to her. A hollow ache fractured into cruel betrayal. He wasn't just abandoning me; he was trying to erase me. I stood there, speechless, the System's quiet hum in my mind confirming my utter heartbreak. "I'm done," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I want a divorce." He scoffed, stepping aside as my mother stormed in, slapping me and accusing me of being selfish, jealous of "poor Chloe." Then, Chloe walked in, clinging to Mark, whispering apologies, playing the blameless victim. My mother cooed over her, bringing her tea on my couch. The life I built was stripped away, piece by piece, handed to her. I was the villain. Days later, I saw them through the office glass: Mark, his hands on Chloe's shoulders, telling everyone how "natural" she was at my job, even offering her my share of the company. A wave of nausea hit me. He was giving away my life. Then, Chloe fell to her knees, sobbing, "If I don't complete the quest, my System will execute me!" My blood ran cold. My entire life, my heartbreak, was just a game, and I was the final boss. Mark knew. He watched me grieve, he watched me break, and he enjoyed it. The pain ripped through my chest. "Goodbye, Mark." And then, everything went dark. Five years later, I'm CEO of my own firm, thriving, with Zephyr, my System, now a human companion. He tells me Mark has spent years torturing Chloe, trying to cross dimensions to find me. I see Mark, gaunt and manic, screaming at a chained Chloe, desperate to reach me. "Mark," I say, my disembodied voice echoing. "It's over." But he tries to force a gateway. Zephyr appears, stopping him, a deep, resonant voice proclaiming, "I'm the one who always chose her." He turns to me, his eyes filled with unwavering affection. "I love you, Ava Miller. I always have." And as he leans in to kiss me, I know I'm home.

Introduction

The phone rang, splitting the quiet of my father's funeral home. It was Mark, my boyfriend of three years, who was supposed to be here holding my hand.

"Ava," he rushed, "I can't make it. Chloe's having another panic attack."

The air in my lungs turned to ice. Chloe Davis, a friend of a friend, always "fragile," always needing Mark. My voice broke as I whispered, "Mark, I have no one right now but you." He called me strong, an excuse to abandon me at my weakest.

Later that night, he finally came home, exhausted from comforting Chloe. He looked at me with cold eyes. "About the house your father left you... Chloe's landlord is kicking her out." He suggested I sign my father's house, the only thing I had left, over to her.

A hollow ache fractured into cruel betrayal. He wasn't just abandoning me; he was trying to erase me. I stood there, speechless, the System's quiet hum in my mind confirming my utter heartbreak.

"I'm done," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I want a divorce." He scoffed, stepping aside as my mother stormed in, slapping me and accusing me of being selfish, jealous of "poor Chloe." Then, Chloe walked in, clinging to Mark, whispering apologies, playing the blameless victim. My mother cooed over her, bringing her tea on my couch. The life I built was stripped away, piece by piece, handed to her. I was the villain.

Days later, I saw them through the office glass: Mark, his hands on Chloe's shoulders, telling everyone how "natural" she was at my job, even offering her my share of the company. A wave of nausea hit me. He was giving away my life.

Then, Chloe fell to her knees, sobbing, "If I don't complete the quest, my System will execute me!" My blood ran cold. My entire life, my heartbreak, was just a game, and I was the final boss. Mark knew. He watched me grieve, he watched me break, and he enjoyed it. The pain ripped through my chest. "Goodbye, Mark." And then, everything went dark.

Five years later, I'm CEO of my own firm, thriving, with Zephyr, my System, now a human companion. He tells me Mark has spent years torturing Chloe, trying to cross dimensions to find me. I see Mark, gaunt and manic, screaming at a chained Chloe, desperate to reach me.

"Mark," I say, my disembodied voice echoing. "It's over." But he tries to force a gateway. Zephyr appears, stopping him, a deep, resonant voice proclaiming, "I'm the one who always chose her." He turns to me, his eyes filled with unwavering affection. "I love you, Ava Miller. I always have." And as he leans in to kiss me, I know I'm home.

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A Husband's Betrayal, A Wife's Reckoning

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My Hamptons dream life with Ethan, my rising star finance husband, shattered when masked men invaded our home, leaving me pregnant and terrified. A month later, my husband’s “fragile” childhood friend, Izzy Vance, suddenly announced her own pregnancy, suspiciously close in timing. Then came Ethan’s devastating public lie: he claimed Izzy’s baby was his, letting the world believe my child was conceived during the home invasion. My “ordeal baby” became tabloid fodder, and my world imploded. The man I loved had thrown me to the wolves, prioritizing Izzy’s fabricated image above my real trauma. He dismissed my pain, my forced abortion, and even my head injury, leaving me bleeding on the street while he rushed to Izzy’s side after a staged accident. He forced me to donate blood even after my own procedure, and used my public humiliation at a gala to solidify his own hero narrative. Every interaction became a new cut, cementing my role as the villain in his carefully crafted play. How could Ethan be so unbelievably blind? So utterly complicit in my destruction? The man who promised to protect me had become my greatest betrayer, leaving me broken, grieving, and utterly alone. But his unwavering faith in Izzy's insidious lies, culminating in her fake accusation of me attacking a pregnant woman, didn't break me. It ignited a cold, steel resolve. They wanted a lavish baby shower? Oh, I’d bring a gift – a secret that would not only expose their entire charade but detonate their perfect world, ensuring a spectacular downfall for all involved. It was time for my quiet, lethal revenge.

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The grand hall of the royal palace was suffocating, every eye fixed on me as I stood before the throne, about to choose my betrothed. This supposed day of destiny was, for me, the day my life had already brutally ended before. I remembered the cold bite of the executioner's axe, the jeering crowd, and Prince Adrian, the man I loved, standing with his new lover, Lady Seraphina, watching me die. He had accused me of treason-all to clear his path to her. My last breath was choked with betrayal, then darkness, until I woke up screaming in my own bed, alive again. I was back, at the very ceremony that had sealed my doom. King Theron boomed, calling for my choice between General Kaelen and Prince Adrian. Adrian, handsome and charming, hissed a low warning, meant only for me: "Don't even think about it, Elara. You know who I want." He then arrogantly announced to the King that his heart belonged to Lady Seraphina, publicly humiliating me. The old me would have crumbled, but not anymore. Fueling my resolve with the memory of the axe, I walked past a stunned Adrian, ignoring his fury, and stopped before General Kaelen. My voice clear and steady for the entire hall to hear, I declared: "I choose General Kaelen." The silence was deafening, the murmurs of scandal already rising. Adrian, enraged by my defiance, later cornered me, his eyes blazing. "You're trying to make me jealous," he sneered, then leaned in, whispering, "When you get tired of his boring silence, you can come to me. I'll keep you as a mistress. It might be... amusing." The arrogance, the sheer disregard for my dignity, fueled a cold, hard anger within me. "You are mistaken, Adrian," I replied, my voice like ice. "I belong to no one but myself. And my future belongs to General Kaelen." He failed to grasp that I was not the girl he knew, leaving him sputtering in indignation. Days later, his scheme with Seraphina to extort my dowry by faking an injury led to Adrian striking me, then shoving my loyal maid, Lyra, who hit her head and lay still. Seeing Lyra, my innocent, loyal maid, injured because of them, something inside me snapped. The last vestiges of my old self burned away, leaving only a cold, pure, diamond-hard rage. They had gone too far. They had hurt my people. And for that, they would pay. I made a silent vow, looking at Lyra' s still form: I will not just survive. I will not just win. I will destroy you. Just then, a calm, cold voice broke through the tension, "You will not touch her." General Kaelen stood in the doorway, dust-worn armor telling of his rapid return, his hand on his greatsword. He was back.

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