The Woman He Almost Killed Lives

King," August Armstrong, only to overhear him call our entire relations

tacking Caroline at their engagement party after

ft me in an abandoned warehouse. "You're

text from Caroline glowed on the screen: "They dealt with he

d buried me, but the

at the altar, the giant screen

ine, perfectly healthy, laughing with another man in Europe, followed

pte

Bridge

rmstrong's rock, his confidante, the woman Silicon Valley whispered was the only one who could tame the "Ice King." I thought tonight, under the soft glow of our penthouse living

with the person who actually matters." August's voice, usually so controlled, was

too important for me to interrupt. I had just been about to surprise him. Now, their laughter, low a

t through the quiet. "Seriously, August? You spent three ye

r. The one I hadn't seen in years, not since my father chose her and her mot

ough the floorboards and into my bones. "Caroline needed someone emotionally available, someone w

lls of our penthouse tilting precariously. I' d spent three years learning his every nuance, anticipating his needs, pouri

ht you how to be a better boyfriend for Carol

dared to show him – was it all just data points for his emotional algorithm? My heart, which h

n town, and I'm going to win her back. She's the one, you know? Always has been." His voice held a tenderness I hadn't heard directed at me in months, perhaps

shing. Shock held me captive, a cold hand clamped over my mouth, stifling the scream that wanted to t

every touch, every whispered promise. Was it all a lie? Had his eyes ever truly met mine, or was he always looking past me, t

is wasn't just a breakup; this was the demolition of my entire existence. I had built my life around him, sought refug

uation. He knew I had nowhere else to go. And he had used it, used me, as a pawn in his twisted game of lo

t was never real, a promise he never intended to keep. It represented the ultimate mocke

this monstrous deception. But my legs wouldn't move, my voice wouldn' t come. I was trapped

the person I had trusted implicitly, was a stranger. A manipulative, calculating man who saw human emotions as data and relation

ms of a stable home, of a family, of finally finding someone who cherished me – all dissolving into the bitter re

tulating August on his brilliant plan. My humiliation was complete. I was nothing but a stepping stone, a temporary p

twisted it, and used it against me. The anger that slowly began to replace the numbing shock was a cold, hard ember, beginning to glow i

of control, leaving me stranded in a desolate was