Author Jecinta
1 Published Story
Author Jecinta's Book and Story
ABANDONED KING GETS HIS LOVE CONTRACT REVENGE
Modern Blurb
She believed the lies.
Her mother made sure of it.
One moment, I was her husband. The next, I was a monster in her eyes - a poor man accused of hurting the woman I loved. They threw pictures in my face, forged proof, and handed me divorce papers. And she, Sally, stood there in silence. Not a word. Not a tear.
That was the day I died - and a king was born.
Years later, I returned richer, colder, and untouchable. The world now bows to my name. But my revenge is just beginning... until Yvonne Wells, a scandal-tarnished model, storms into my life. She was supposed to be my contract girlfriend - a shield against the chaos. I never meant to drag her into my storm, but she became the only light that could calm it.
Now, the same family that destroyed me is crawling back, desperate to rewrite the past. But I'm not that broken man anymore.
I'm the king they abandoned - and this time, I give no mercy.
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Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."