AMW
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New Life: New Beginnings
Dee Gleem For the last two years, Kane has been dreaming of the day when his mate finally turns 18 and they can finally claim each other. However, his world suddenly comes crashing down and his dream is instantly destroyed when the alpha announces that his son (Kane's mate) has found his mate, who is the daughter of a neighboring pack's alpha.
However, he can't bring himself to say anything. He has kept this a secret for two years and he was waiting for another few months until his mate's birthday, but that day is never coming now.
He can't stand seeing his mate with another, and he can no longer handle being in his pack. He can't let his father know either, since he is the pack's Beta.
What can he do? The only thing that he can think of.... He will keep his secret and run as far away as possible. He will no longer be Kane, but he will become a new person, with a new name.
Blake. That sounds nice. It also reminds him of black, which is what his past is now. My Bitter Brew: A CEO's Regret
Gavin For seven years, I poured my life into Artisan Ales, brewing the beer that built our empire, secretly married to its co-founder and CEO, Chloe.
Tonight, at our success party, I expected her to finally announce us, our shared journey, our partnership.
Instead, she introduced a fresh-faced intern, Liam, giving him full credit for my life' s work-my signature IPA-and beaming as he winked at her, publicly erasing me from our story.
My stomach clenched as applause erupted, not for us, but for Chloe and her new "power duo" with Liam.
Later, as she fretted over Liam's fake migraine, Chloe tossed me a cheap, flimsy watch-a pathetic imitation of the expensive one she bought him-an insult that cut deeper than any public slight.
"Don't be dramatic," she sighed, dismissing our secret marriage as an inconvenience, solidifying her betrayal.
How could the woman who promised "us" and believed in my beer, now treat me like an obsolete relic, a disposable part of her ruthless ambition?
The overwhelming feeling wasn't anger, but a hollow, cold emptiness where our shared dreams used to be, replaced by a bitter taste of ash.
As the cheap watch ticked, reminding me of my worth in her eyes, a new, chilling resolve set in: I would not just leave, I would reclaim everything that was truly mine.
Picking up my phone, I dialed the only other person who truly valued my craft, prepared to cut the cord, not just from the company, but from Chloe for good. Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal
Johan Gorski The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, David, was in an accident.
At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife.
When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?"
He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry.
It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure.
I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper."
Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her.
"She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed.
He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle."
My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed.
"Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe.
Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone.
My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break."
My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away.
A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do.
When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"