Samuel Gray
13 Published Stories
Samuel Gray's Books and Stories
The Dead Bride's Vicious Mafia Comeback
Mafia A year ago, my husband Marco traded my life for a political alliance.
I watched his mistress's taillights fade into the dark as the freezing waters of Lake Michigan swallowed me whole.
They called my drowning a tragic accident and burned a fake body before anyone could demand an autopsy.
Tonight, Marco is marrying that same mistress, Isabella, in a lavish ballroom filled with Chicago's underworld elites.
They even conceived a child during my mourning period, a deadly sin in our traditional Mafia family.
They thought I was rotting at the bottom of the lake, completely forgotten.
But they didn't know I had survived, bleeding through brutal underground training just to crawl my way back.
When the wedding venue plunged into darkness and a single spotlight hit me standing there in a white mourning gown, Marco dropped his glass.
"Arabella? No... you're dead," he choked out, his face draining of blood.
Isabella shrieked, looking like she had seen the devil himself.
Did they really think a little water could wash away our sacred vows?
They stole my life, my name, and my family, expecting me to stay a compliant ghost forever so they could secure their power.
I smiled coldly as I handed the Mafia Don a decree of absolute protection from The Commission.
I am Arabella Stark, and my vendetta only ends when they drown in their own blood. Gilded Cage: The CEO's Unwilling Bride
Romance I was the "diamond" of the Sargent Foundation, a perfect orphan polished for the cameras and high-society galas. But beneath the glittering chandeliers, I was suffocating. When the pressure finally broke me and I tried to flee the Sargent Gala, I wasn't met with comfort. I was hunted down by security and dragged into a sterile, white-hot spotlight in a room I was never allowed to enter.
Adrien Sargent, the cold-blooded CEO who controlled my every move, didn't want to help me. He wanted to devour me. He presented a legal cage: sign over my voting shares for his unethical hostile takeover, or he would have my only friend—the elderly butler who raised me—killed in his nursing home bed.
I became a prisoner in the East Wing, stripped of my phone and watched by hidden cameras. During a midnight storm, I tried to steal a security card to escape, but Adrien caught me in his study. Reeking of whiskey and corporate rage, he didn't just stop me. He pinned me to his desk and branded my neck with a bite so deep it bruised, treating me like a thief who deserved to be claimed.
The next morning, the house turned into a battlefield of lies. His PR consultant tried to claim she was the one in his bed, but Adrien found a pearl button from my pajamas under his desk. He didn't feel guilt; he felt violated. He accused me of orchestrating the entire encounter to blackmail him, his eyes filled with a terrifying, possessive fury.
When his grandmother caught us, she didn't see a victim; she saw a liability. To save the family stock price, she gave us an ultimatum: marriage.
"I’ll do it," I said, looking at the massive diamond ring that felt more like a shackle. Adrien thought he had finally broken me, but he didn't know about the encrypted file I just received. The corporate crisis he’s fighting was an inside job, and the trail leads straight to his own front door.
I looked at my new husband on our wedding night and let my silk dress hit the floor. He thinks he’s trapped a rabbit, but I’ve just gained total access to his world. I will sleep with the enemy, learn every dark secret he’s hiding, and then I am going to burn his empire to the ground. His Betrayal, My Fierce Comeback
Modern I was the moral compass of modern media, a journalist with a flawless record and a penthouse life with my husband, Britton.
Then one phone call shattered it all. He blackmailed me, using a dark secret I kept for him, forcing me to retract a story and destroy my own career to protect his intern, Baylee.
The fallout was brutal. My reputation was ruined overnight. Fleeing the city, I was in a horrific car accident and woke up in the hospital to learn I'd had a miscarriage.
The final blow came when I called him for help, only to hear his intern giggling in the background.
The man I loved since we were kids, the one who swore to protect me, had orchestrated my ruin and cost me our child.
He left me for dead at the bottom of a cliff.
But he made one mistake: he didn't make sure I was dead. Pulled from the ocean by a mysterious stranger, I was reborn. Now, I'm coming back to reclaim everything he took-and make him pay. The Midnight Iris of Betrayal
Modern After fifteen years of marriage, my husband finally noticed my nail polish. The shade was 'Midnight Iris.'
It was also the favorite shade of his new assistant, Cheri.
When I confronted him, Brennan called me ridiculous. "Maybe you should get a job," he sneered. "Stop obsessing over meaningless things."
But the deepest cut came from my son, Bird.
"You don't even do anything all day," he said, his words a mirror of his father's. "And Cheri is picking me up today. She's way more fun than you."
Later, he texted, asking me to buy a birthday present for Cheri. My own birthday had been the week before. He hadn't even mentioned it.
He hadn't forgotten. He just didn't care. I had been replaced in my own home, in my own son's heart.
Before the tears could blind me, I sent a text to my lawyer.
"I want to give up custody. Completely. I can't be a mother to a child who doesn't see me." My Peace Beyond His Regret
Modern My boyfriend, Damien, chose a Vegas trip with his toxic best friend, Branden, over our relationship, ignoring my ultimatum that if he walked out, we were over. He walked.
A week later, he was back, dangling a designer handbag as a peace offering. But while he was partying, I was in the ER with a severe, stress-induced anxiety attack.
The final blow came when I saw Damien had 'liked' Branden' s social media post mocking my pain.
He stood outside my apartment, laughing with Branden, calling me "dramatic" and "clingy," completely unaware I had already packed his entire life into boxes.
"What... what is all this, Cecil?" he stammered, his face turning from shock to rage as he saw his belongings ready for the movers. "What have you done?"
I looked him dead in the eye, my voice cold and steady. "We're over, Damien. So, are these boxes going to your place, or to Branden's?" From Mafia Wife To Free Woman
Mafia For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence.
But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel.
Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child.
"But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
"She served her purpose," Dante said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A broodmare is only valuable when it can produce. After that…"
He didn't have to finish. In his world, useless things are discarded. Violently. Every touch, every calculated smile had been a lie to secure his dynasty.
He saw a legacy, not a child. He saw a vessel, not a wife.
The only way to win his game was to knock the whole board over. I pulled out my phone and called the clinic my friend had told me about.
"Yes," I said, my voice a stranger’s, hollow and steady. "I'd like to schedule a termination." The Beta Rejected Me, So I Claimed His King.
Werewolf I stood at my mating ceremony, about to be joined with my pack's Beta, Brendan, under the watchful eye of the powerful Alpha King.
But just as the rites began, Brendan abandoned me at the altar. He ran off into the woods for another woman—a fragile rogue named Marina he had taken in.
He left me to face the humiliation alone. Then, a message came through the public leadership channel for all to hear. It was Brendan, announcing that Marina had attempted suicide and he couldn't leave her.
He then had the audacity to command me to apologize to the Alpha King on his behalf for the "disruption."
The man I had loved for six years, who had promised me forever just the night before, had traded my honor for a lie. He made me a laughingstock in front of the entire continent.
That night, drowning my sorrow in a human bar, I ran into the Alpha King himself. Fueled by whiskey and heartbreak, I made a reckless offer.
"He doesn't want me anymore," I slurred. "Alpha, do you want me tonight?"
To my shock, he accepted. And in his arms, I discovered a stunning truth: the Alpha King, my ex-fiancé's uncle, was my true fated Mate. My revenge had just begun. Woke Up as My Nemesis's Wife
Billionaires I, Selena Grant, was the most cherished daughter of the Grant family in Seaview City, a princess in all but name. Countless men longed to draw near, not for love, but for the status and glory that came with me.
But men never interested me. My only passion was my work, and my ambition was to see my empire stretch across the globe.
For a long time, I believed I would burn out in my relentless work, destined to grow old alone.
Until the day I woke in a bathtub.
From the phone came a voice, sharp with impatience, "Why aren't you dead already?"
A stranger-a servant-told me I was married, and that I had degraded myself time and again, staging suicide attempts just to win a glance from this man.
I didn't believe a word of it.
I could be relentless for my work, but never for a man.
I picked up the phone and glanced at hundreds of rejected call records and countless unsent messages, all beginning with the same desperate words, "I love you."
In that instant, I believed it.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared up at the ceiling.
Although I had lost three years of memories from this marriage, anyone who dared to treat me with such contempt would not escape the consequences. Stolen Identity, Stolen Love
Modern The plane landed, and Ethan Miller, world-renowned chef, felt the thrill of victory – the "Global Culinary Masters" trophy securely in his bag. He envisioned his fiancée, Sophia, and The Alchemist\'s Table, his restaurant that had just earned its third Michelin star.
But joy turned to ice as two burly guards blocked his entrance, demanding an invitation to his own restaurant. Laughter and champagne clinked inside, and a video played on a loop, showing "Chef Ethan Miller," holding his trophy, kissing it for the cameras-but it wasn\'t him.
The police arrived, called by the imposter, who claimed Ethan's ID was stolen. "The system says this ID was reported stolen two weeks ago. By Mr. Ethan Miller." They dragged him away, a man pleading, swearing he was the true Ethan.
He saw the imposter, his doppelgänger, putting an arm around Sophia, who leaned into him with a look of pure love. "Who am I?" he whispered, as his world crumbled, every memory, every achievement, every relationship with his fiancée replaced.
Humiliated, abandoned, and facing a life he no longer recognized, Ethan knew one thing: he had to reclaim his identity, no matter the cost. Back From The Dead For A Blank Check
Billionaires I poured everything into him.
As a struggling artist, I lived for Julian, my charming musician.
I paid his bills, cooked his food, convinced myself our love was worth more than money.
Then the black Escalades came.
My Julian, the man I loved, was Julian Vance, a billionaire heir.
He didn' t even look at me as his fixer handed me a check for $500,000, calling it a "thank you for your time."
My world shattered.
I tore the check, screamed my love wasn't for sale.
I was a romantic idiot.
To keep him, I leaked our story to the tabloids, forcing his family to make him marry me for appearances.
The marriage was hell.
Julian treated me with open disgust.
His monstrous grandfather systematically dismantled my life, isolating me, sabotaging my art, whispering poisons until I questioned my sanity.
The final blow: Julian on Page Six, laughing on a yacht with "his longtime companion," Serena.
My "love story" was a brutal nightmare, my grand romance a calculated humiliation.
The pain of betrayal, the sheer injustice, choked me.
How could something so pure turn so monstrously toxic?
I was a pawn.
That night, in our cold, empty penthouse, I ended my life.
But then, I woke up.
Back in my tiny Brooklyn apartment.
The day before I met Julian for the "first" time.
This time, I knew the script.
And this time, I wasn't here for love.
I was here to collect. When Family Turns Foe
Modern I was eight months pregnant, heading to my parents' home for their "big news."
I expected typical parental updates, maybe about retirement or a new hobby.
Instead, my 55-year-old mother was significantly pregnant, too, chirping "Surprise!"
My childhood bedroom was gone, replaced by a lavish nursery for my "miracle" baby brother, Jacob.
Then came the demands: financial support for Jacob, and even my condo-the only real security I owned.
They wanted me to fund their late-life child, whose existence they used as a weapon against me and my future firstborn son.
I refused, reeling from their blatant greed and emotional blackmail.
My mother's sweet tone turned to venom, threatening my husband Michael's successful career.
She warned she'd accuse him of elder abuse at his tech firm if I didn't comply, claiming "family helps family."
This was a new low, but it didn' t compare to what came next.
My half-brother Jacob, whom they forced upon me, fell critically ill with leukemia.
When I wasn't a match for a bone marrow donation, their demands turned monstrous.
They tried to force my then three-year-old son, Leo, my own fragile child, to be tested.
They spread lies online, publicly shaming me for "letting my brother die" by protecting my son.
I exposed their wicked scheme, posting signed agreements that showed their manipulative nature.
They retaliated with the unthinkable: they kidnapped my son, Leo, from preschool.
They intended to force a marrow extraction from my toddler, claiming it was a "life-saving diagnostic procedure."
That day, terror consumed me.
My own parents had crossed an unforgivable line, sacrificing my child for their selfish, desperate obsession.
I called the police, determined to rescue Leo and break free from their toxic grasp forever. The Charity Case Dare: Her Sweet Revenge
Young Adult Sarah Miller had one shot: Northwood Academy, a world away from her cramped apartment and her dad' s pain-ridden reality.
As a scholarship kid, navigating the gilded halls felt like walking a tightrope, especially with queen bee Tiffany Vanderbilt and her "Legacy Crew" constantly reminding her she didn' t belong.
One evening, sweeping the school theater, I froze, hearing voices from the green room.
Tiffany' s voice cut through the silence: "Chad and Brittany are useless… Ethan, it has to be you."
My blood ran cold as I listened to them plot the "Charity Case Dare" -a twisted game where golden boy Ethan Hayes would wine and dine me, make me fall for him, then publicly break my heart right before graduation.
It wasn't just bullying; it was a calculated psychological operation, a sport for their amusement.
They wanted to see me weep, utterly destroyed.
Their words, "charity case," echoed like a brand.
Every petty cruelty, every snicker, now made sickening sense.
How could people born with every privilege, every advantage, be so casually, viciously cruel?
Didn' t they have souls?
Was I just a disposable pawn in their endless pursuit of twisted entertainment?
The injustice burned, a bitter bile rising in my throat.
They thought they had me trapped, a helpless animal in their cruel game.
But they were wrong.
I wasn' t going to be their victim.
I would play along, I would weaponize their arrogance, their resources, and their monstrous scheme.
And when the final curtain fell, they wouldn' t know what hit them. The Stolen Heiress: A Mother's Fight
Billionaires I woke up with a scream stuck in my throat. It was Chloe's eighteenth birthday – a day that should have been filled with joy, but instead, it felt like a chilling replay. My daughter, my sweet girl, was supposed to celebrate her coming of age.
The nightmare wasn’t just a dream; it was a terrifying premonition of my past life, a future about to unfold. My own husband, Richard, methodically stripped us of everything: our fortune, our home, our very lives. He was poised to hand my family's legacy, down to Chloe's custom gown and heirloom jewels, to his fake orphaned relative, Amber, with his housekeeper Linda by his side.
I remembered it all: Richard's icy declaration that I was "mentally unstable," Chloe's brave defense, the brutal scuffle that left her gravely injured, and finally, the staged car accident that stole our lives. Now, the phone rang, confirming the exact chilling details: Richard's assistant, demanding I present Amber with *the* Hayes family necklace. I saw the bruises on Chloe’s arm, forced to polish Amber’s shoes.
How could this be happening again? The betrayal, the theft, the violence – it was too much. But this time, a fierce, cold rage ignited inside me. I was no longer the broken woman they had destroyed.
As the assistant chirped about the necklace, I walked to the display case holding the fake pieces meant to placate me. With a heavy bronze statuette, I shattered the glass, then smashed the trinkets. "Tell Mr. Thorne," I commanded, "the original plan stands for Chloe's birthday." This time, history wouldn’t repeat. This time, I’d reclaim everything. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
The Jilted Bride's Secret Mafia King
Benjamen Ernst Standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, I waited to marry my wealthy fiancé in front of three hundred of New York's elite.
But right before the vows, my phone vibrated in my bouquet. It was a text from my groom: he was backing out because my maid of honor—my supposed best friend—was pregnant with his child.
Before the shock of this double betrayal could even settle, his mother dug her manicured claws into my arm and publicly humiliated me.
"A woman who can't even attract her own man, how is she worthy of the Doyle name?"
She mocked my background, calling me a worthless orphan who only knew how to draw blueprints, turning my broken heart into a public execution of my dignity.
The terrified girl inside me vanished, replaced by a dark, burning rage. I didn't understand why I had to let this arrogant family step all over me while they played the innocent victims.
I yanked my arm free, tore off my expensive lace veil, and walked straight to the podium to grab the microphone.
"The wedding is canceled. The groom is currently busy with my maid of honor."
I walked out of the church, leaving them in absolute shock. But as I stumbled onto the street, I fell right into the arms of Damiano Moretti—the exiled, dangerous mafia boss known as the Ghost, who sat in a custom wheelchair.
Looking into his cold, storm-gray eyes, I made a reckless, desperate deal.
"Marry me." His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Too Late, Mr. Capo: Your Wife Is Gone
Mo Yufei "Happy Anniversary," my husband said, sliding the separation agreement across the mahogany desk.
It was the eighteenth time in five years I had signed these papers.
Matteo De Luca, the most ruthless Capo in New York, checked his Rolex with cold impatience.
"Sign it, Sera. Bianca is on the ledge again. She needs to see we're over, or she jumps."
Bianca. The ward. The broken bird. The woman whose fragile psyche dictated every moment of my marriage.
I signed my name, and he left me alone on our anniversary to save her. Again.
But saving her wasn't enough.
When Bianca pushed me down a flight of marble stairs in a fit of jealous rage, shattering my spine and leaving me paralyzed, I thought Matteo would finally choose me.
I was wrong.
I woke up in the hospital to find him holding her hand, not mine.
"The security footage has been wiped," he told me, his voice void of emotion. "We cannot have a scandal. You fell, Sera. That is the story."
He erased the truth. He erased my pain.
He protected the woman who crippled me over his own wife.
Two months later, he wheeled me into a gala, playing the doting husband while I sat in the chair that was my prison.
He didn't know I had a burner phone hidden in my velvet dress.
He didn't know that tonight, the obedient wife was going to die on the pavement, and a ghost would rise in her place.
I looked at him one last time and dropped the phone in his lap.
"I hope she's worth it." Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. 
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