They Left Me, He Claimed My Heart

They Left Me, He Claimed My Heart

Dolores

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I was the luckiest woman in New York, with three devoted, successful men catering to my every whim. Then, they left me. All three of them, for the same woman-a self-made CEO who was everything I wasn't. They called me a spoiled brat, a user, a burden. When I ran to them, broken and bleeding after a fall, they pushed me away. One of them even put his hands on my throat, his eyes filled with a hatred I' d never seen, all while the others watched. Their disgust was a physical blow, shattering the last piece of my heart. I was nothing to them anymore, just a mistake they were desperate to erase. So, in my darkest moment, I made a choice. I ran to my father and demanded he arrange my marriage to the one man our circle feared-a reclusive Scottish heir they called the "Sea Lord." It was a life sentence, but it was also my only escape.

Chapter 1

I was the luckiest woman in New York, with three devoted, successful men catering to my every whim.

Then, they left me. All three of them, for the same woman-a self-made CEO who was everything I wasn't.

They called me a spoiled brat, a user, a burden. When I ran to them, broken and bleeding after a fall, they pushed me away. One of them even put his hands on my throat, his eyes filled with a hatred I' d never seen, all while the others watched.

Their disgust was a physical blow, shattering the last piece of my heart. I was nothing to them anymore, just a mistake they were desperate to erase.

So, in my darkest moment, I made a choice. I ran to my father and demanded he arrange my marriage to the one man our circle feared-a reclusive Scottish heir they called the "Sea Lord."

It was a life sentence, but it was also my only escape.

Chapter 1

CRYSTAL BURGESS POV:

They called me the luckiest woman in New York. Three men, all successful, all devoted, bending to my every whim. I thought it was real, until it wasn't.

My closet was a showroom of designer labels, my jewelry box overflowing with pieces from Cartier and Tiffany. I' d once thrown a fit because my morning latte wasn' t frothed to my exact specifications, and Garrick, bless his patient soul, had personally gone to three different cafes to fix it.

Jorden, my passionate musician, often bore the brunt of my moods. One evening, he was late for dinner, and I ripped into him, accusing him of caring more about his band than about me. His face, usually so vibrant, just dulled.

I didn' t know any other way. My father, Hubert, a CEO whose empire seemed to stretch forever, had always indulged me. My partners picked up where he left off. Why wouldn' t I expect the world to cater to me?

Then Andrea Harmon walked into our lives. She wasn' t just new to our elite circles; she was a storm. She captivated everyone, not with lavish spending, but by simply being herself.

Andrea was all sunshine and self-made grit, her smile genuine, never forced. I, on the other hand, had become a perpetual cloud of entitlement, my own smiles feeling brittle even to me.

She was a wellness brand CEO, built from the ground up. She talked about business deals and market strategies, not which boutique had the latest collection. It was a language I barely understood, but everyone else seemed to hang on her every word.

And she was a single mother. Her son, a bright-eyed boy, was always impeccably cared for, his existence seamlessly woven into her demanding schedule. She didn' t need anyone to underwrite her life; she wrote her own checks.

Garrick, my pragmatic architect, was the first to change. His once adoring gaze now held a flicker of something colder, something that felt suspiciously like judgment. He started pointing out my 'needs' as 'demands' .

One Tuesday morning, after I' d complained about the endless renovations on our penthouse, he simply said, "Crystal, I can' t do this anymore." And he left. Just like that. The first crack in my carefully constructed world.

Jorden raged, "How could he abandon you like that?" Connor, ever the gentle one, held me close, whispering, "He' ll regret this, Crystal. He doesn' t know what he' s losing."

Jorden even confronted Garrick, a scene I only heard about later, full of heated words and accusations. "You' re making a mistake," he' d yelled. "You' ll come crawling back."

But Jorden didn' t crawl back. A month later, his passionate fury turned cold. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of their usual fire, and said, "You' re too much, Crystal. Too much drama, too many expectations." He walked away, taking with him the vibrant music that used to fill my life.

I clung to Connor, the last pillar in my crumbling world. "I don' t understand," I sobbed into his shirt. "What' s wrong with me? Am I really so awful?"

He stroked my hair, his touch so familiar, so reassuring. "No, baby. You' re perfect. They just don' t see it. I' ll always be here for you."

Then I saw it. I saw him. Connor, my safe space, my steady anchor, walking hand-in-hand with Andrea. His head was tilted towards hers, that same gentle smile he used to reserve for me now fixed on her.

He laughed at something she said, a clear, open laugh, utterly unlike the strained smiles I' d been getting. He even bent down to pick up a scarf she' d dropped, his movements almost... deferential. The Connor who' d once moved mountains for my slightest whim was now a puppy begging for a treat.

My breath caught like a knife in my chest. The world spun. I ran. I just ran, my heels clicking frantically on the pavement, tears blinding me. I stumbled, fell, grazed my knees, but I didn' t stop until I reached my father' s penthouse, pounding on the door like a madwoman.

My father, Hubert, opened the door, his face a mask of concern. Before he could say a word, I gasped, "Dad, I want to marry Jules Mcintosh. Arrange it."

His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, widened in disbelief. He looked at me as if I' d spoken a foreign language, or perhaps, lost my mind.

"Crystal, what are you saying?" he asked, his voice low and strained. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Jules Mcintosh, the Scottish heir? The one whose family is practically reclusive, shrouded in ancient traditions and whispers of strange customs? The one they call... the 'Sea Lord' ?"

"No one wants that marriage, Crystal. No one from our circle would ever consider it. It' s practically a life sentence, away from everything you know."

My fingers dug into the silk of my dress, tearing the delicate fabric. The pain was a dull throb, nothing compared to the gaping hole in my chest.

The Mcintoshes live on a remote Scottish island, their business empire built on centuries of maritime trade and guarded secrets. They seek partners not just for alliance, but for... continuation. They have certain traditions, Crystal. Very old, very binding traditions.

Jules himself is a powerful man, ruthless in business, with a reputation for being fiercely possessive. Once he claims something, he holds onto it with an iron grip.

"No woman, especially not one raised like you, would willingly go there. It' s an isolated, cold existence, far from the glittering life you' ve always known."

He saw my tear-streaked face, my trembling body. "Did they hurt you again, Crystal? Those men? Was it Connor?" His voice, usually so calm, was laced with fury.

He started to rise, his eyes dark with a dangerous glint. "I' ll make them pay. I' ll ruin them, Crystal, I swear."

I grabbed his arm, my strength surprising even myself. "No, Dad! Don' t!"

I shook my head so hard my vision blurred. "Please, just let it go. Please, don' t do anything."

"I don' t want you to fight my battles anymore," I choked out. "Just... get me out of here. Marry me off. Anywhere but here."

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I was the perfect Sterling wife, living in a multi-million dollar Upper East Side townhouse where every hair had to be in place. I thought my only job was to look beautiful at Julian's side and maintain the image of a flawless high-society marriage. But the illusion shattered when Julian came home smelling of a cheap, floral perfume that definitely wasn't mine. I followed him to The Pierre Hotel, the very place we spent our honeymoon, and caught him in a bathrobe with a younger woman who looked at me with pure triumph. When I demanded a divorce, Julian didn't even flinch; he just laughed and showed me his true colors. He revealed he was personally funding the experimental treatment keeping my comatose father alive, and he threatened to pull the plug the moment I walked away. He told me I was nothing more than "breeding stock" needed to secure his inheritance, and I discovered his family was actively plotting to steal my father's billion-dollar medical patent. When I tried to resist, he backhanded me across the face and told me to fix my makeup because we had a gala to attend. I stood in a ballroom full of New York's elite with a bruised jaw hidden under heavy foundation, realizing that every person I trusted had been bought. My own family lawyer turned his back on me, leaving me alone in a den of wolves who were waiting for my father to die so they could strip his legacy bare. The injustice burned through my grief, turning my despair into a cold, sharp rage. I realized that playing by the rules had only made me a target, and if I wanted to survive, I had to become more dangerous than the men trying to destroy me. That was when I ran into Sebastian Sterling, Julian's uncle and the most feared predator on Wall Street. He saw the bruise Julian tried to hide and whispered that he didn't do charity, but he did hate weakness. I looked into the eyes of the man they called "The Reaper" and realized he was the only one powerful enough to help me burn the Sterling empire to the ground. "Help me," I said, stepping into his shadow. "And I'll give you everything they're trying to steal."

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