My Body, Their Betrayal: A Political Game

or a fraction of a second, revealing the calculating politician beneath. He didn' t want me out of his sight

ting around, assessing the public visibility of our current location. "I' m not sure, Kira. It' s a crucia

Besides, the fundraiser is just around the corner. We need you by my side, radiant and supportive

e, Cannon. You' re right. It was selfish of me to even ask. My mind' s just not... quite right these days, I s

Don' t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. You' re doing wonderfully. Just focus on staying healthy. That' s all that m

t, a sudden, unexpected gesture. "Here, a little some

s, trained to notice details, caught the faint price tag still clinging to its underside: a paltry amount compared to what he usually spent, and a price that scr

al voice was a snarl. A cheap baubl

my rage. "Oh, Cannon! It' s beautiful! Thank you, darling. You always know how to make m

Big day ahead. Remember, the fundraiser is Friday night. Look radiant. Stay close. And I' ll see you there, my love." H

my child. His future. Built on my shattered dreams. The "girl time" with Sarah was a lie I' d concocted on the fly, a desperate attempt to gau

erfect, glamorous addition to his political dynasty. She probably believed she was replacing me, not just getting my baby

th suppressed fury. I ripped the heart charm from its chain, the flimsy silver snapping, and threw it into the nearest trash

in my medical locker at the hospital. A burner phone, charged and ready, was tucked into my emergency kit. My finances were already secure, a sepa

– a political journalist named Marcus Thorne, known for his relentless pursuit of truth and his disd

ft, single-word

y, surrounded by our "perfect family." He would be giving his triumphant speech, while I would be elsewhere, seve

He would be completely engrossed, completely oblivious. He was so confident in his control

still pale, still bearing the faint shadows of exhaustion. But her eyes were different now. T

et Friday night! Cannon's speech is going to be amazing. We're all s

, watching the words vanish, leaving no trace

her sharp mind, her brutal honesty. She was the only one who had ever truly seen me, truly understood the intricate, suffocating web of e

ntom, leaving no trace, no note. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fal

any other medical office, clean and professional. The scent of antiseptic filled the

p. My breath hitched, a faint tremor running through my body

been, for the innocent life caught in this web of deceit. It was a sacrifice, a surgical excision of a tumor that threatened to consume me who

e. My parents, their faces etched with disappointment, always for Britni, never for me. They had used me, co

as they had ripped apart mine. This was not just about revenge; it was about survival. It

d my name. "

lve unbending. My body, the object of th