His Loss, Her Lasting Love

His Loss, Her Lasting Love

Gavin

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Six years. An engagement ring on my finger. A future designed together, just like the buildings we drafted. All of it shattered when Mark, my fiancé and professional partner, coldly declared, "It's not working, Ava. I'm with Chloe now." My world crumbled further as Mark and his new, younger intern, Chloe, began a calculated campaign to erase my contributions at work, culminating in Chloe taking credit for my projects and Mark accusing me of mental instability to sideline me professionally. The betrayal escalated when, after I tried to confront Chloe about my vandalized portfolio and missing belongings-acts I knew she committed-Mark brazenly defended her, painting me as the aggressor. "You' ve gone from pathetic to dangerous," he sneered, publicly suspending me and demanding I leave the premises. Shoved into a dark storage closet by security, alone and overwhelmed, I overheard Mark' s contemptuous voice: "She's faking it. She's just looking for sympathy. Leave her there. It's what she deserves." Then Chloe appeared, her face close to mine, venomously whispering, "You should have just stayed broken. He was mine. This job was mine. You had your turn." She pressed down hard on the bruise Mark had left on my arm, a chilling, triumphant smile on her face. Just as I thought I couldn' t bear another moment, a new voice cut through the air outside, loud and utterly unfamiliar: "I'm looking for Ava Miller. Her fiancé sent me to pick her up. Where is she?"

Introduction

Six years. An engagement ring on my finger. A future designed together, just like the buildings we drafted. All of it shattered when Mark, my fiancé and professional partner, coldly declared, "It's not working, Ava. I'm with Chloe now."

My world crumbled further as Mark and his new, younger intern, Chloe, began a calculated campaign to erase my contributions at work, culminating in Chloe taking credit for my projects and Mark accusing me of mental instability to sideline me professionally.

The betrayal escalated when, after I tried to confront Chloe about my vandalized portfolio and missing belongings-acts I knew she committed-Mark brazenly defended her, painting me as the aggressor. "You' ve gone from pathetic to dangerous," he sneered, publicly suspending me and demanding I leave the premises.

Shoved into a dark storage closet by security, alone and overwhelmed, I overheard Mark' s contemptuous voice: "She's faking it. She's just looking for sympathy. Leave her there. It's what she deserves." Then Chloe appeared, her face close to mine, venomously whispering, "You should have just stayed broken. He was mine. This job was mine. You had your turn." She pressed down hard on the bruise Mark had left on my arm, a chilling, triumphant smile on her face.

Just as I thought I couldn' t bear another moment, a new voice cut through the air outside, loud and utterly unfamiliar: "I'm looking for Ava Miller. Her fiancé sent me to pick her up. Where is she?"

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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