On the wedding night her disabled husband stood up

My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer.

"Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought.

I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin.

She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death.

But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's.

She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony.

Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life.