His Orchestrated Love, My Shattered Life

in to save me. He married me, cherished me, and I fell in love with th

ssing to my half-sister. He had orchestrated the ent

to kill her and her unborn baby. My husband shoved me

ll you f

y own child, not a single person looked back.

and fled to my billionaire mother. He would find out the tr

pte

o irreversible pieces. My fiancé, the man I believed was my future, tossed our engagement as

t walk

od side-by-side, a picture of what could have been mine. It

He swooped in, a strong hand pulling me from the wreckage. He of

spoke of love, a deep, unwavering kind. I

oman reborn, loved, and absolutely adored. Everyone whispered about our perfect romance, envious of the man who had turned my tragedy i

ss, a second chance at a life I thought was lost forever. My heart,

re going to tell everyone, share our joy. I walked on

lf-closed door. His voice. Urgent, low, lace

id. My blood ran cold, a

s voice was too soft to make out, but the t

thick with devotion. "To get her out of the

uzzed, trying to make sense

sure my former fiancé would abandon me. He admitted to using m

guilt, and a strategic move to keep my half-sister in his li

ice raw with a possessive love I had never hea

nce-it was all a grotesque charade. My body trembled, tears blurring my visio

e a cruel joke. I was a fool. A naive, trusting fool. The betrayal was

struction, a puppet master pulling strings I didn't even know existed

eason with him. "You can't keep doing this," his friend plead

umor. "She's exactly where she needs to be," he spat

" his friend pressed, a tremor in his voice. "

er stated, his voice flat, emotionles

And the last three years? Was all that a lie too? Th

at spoke volumes. It confirmed everythin

him, referring to my half-sister. "You can't

ice filled with a chilling determinat

an abyss of despair. The last ves

the front door click shut, a final punctuation mark on my shatte

, sending it crashing to the floor. The sharp sound startled me, and I cried out, clutching my st

back, his eyes catching mine through the doorway. Pity

appened?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a theatrical pani

hand away. The pain in my palm was no

oving. "Let me see." He took my hand, his grip surpr

low ache within me. The joy of my pregnancy, the gentle flutter

Before I could protest, he swept me into his arms, carrying me out

th a convincing performance of worry. He k

heard hushed whispers. "Look at him," one nurse cooed.

e. He wrung his hands, asked endless questions about my well-being, demanded the best care. I just watch