The Unchosen Bride's Vengeance

The Unchosen Bride's Vengeance

Gavin

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The ballroom glittered, a dazzling spectacle where tech mogul Ethan Vanderbilt was about to pick his bride. I was just Sarah Jenkins, one of 99 hopefuls, a nobody from a modest background. But I'd lived this night before. In that life, I was chosen, a pawn manipulated by his stepmother Eleanor, which eventually led to the cold, cruel death of my beloved grandfather. This time, I hacked the lottery system to avoid being selected. Yet, Ethan still picked the manipulative Lily, igniting a familiar dread as their lies began to twist my reality. When Lily feigned an allergic reaction to roses, and Ethan, fueled by his stepsister's vicious charade, threatened my grandfather's cherished garden and the sentimental old gazebo, my heart pounded with a desperate fear for my last remaining connection to home. The ultimate horror struck during my hospital visit, as Lily's fabricated attack led Ethan, blinded by rage, to wrench the life-sustaining ventilator tube from my grandfather's machine. He called to disable the backup power, leaving my frail, elderly grandfather to suffocate in the silence, a deliberate act of cruelty to punish me. I stood there, utterly helpless, forced to watch my world disintegrate as the last breath left his body, his life stolen by a man I once believed in. How could Ethan, the face of innovation and charity, commit such a monstrous act, discarding an innocent life based on a shallow girl's lies? The injustice burned through me, a searing wound that far outstripped the physical pain he inflicted; how could anyone be so effortlessly cruel, so easily fooled into becoming a murderer? My grief was absolute, but within it, a cold, hard resolve began to crystallize, transforming my shattered heart into a weapon. As I knelt, broken, beside my grandfather's lifeless form, Marcus Thorne, a reclusive and powerful financier, appeared in the doorway, an unexpected anchor in my storm of despair. In that moment, a desperate, dangerous idea took root: I would marry Marcus, step into his world of power and influence, and from that unassailable position, I would rise from the ashes of my ruined life to exact a precise, calculated revenge on every single person who conspired in my downfall. This was not the end; it was the ruthless beginning of my second act.

Introduction

The ballroom glittered, a dazzling spectacle where tech mogul Ethan Vanderbilt was about to pick his bride. I was just Sarah Jenkins, one of 99 hopefuls, a nobody from a modest background. But I'd lived this night before. In that life, I was chosen, a pawn manipulated by his stepmother Eleanor, which eventually led to the cold, cruel death of my beloved grandfather.

This time, I hacked the lottery system to avoid being selected. Yet, Ethan still picked the manipulative Lily, igniting a familiar dread as their lies began to twist my reality. When Lily feigned an allergic reaction to roses, and Ethan, fueled by his stepsister's vicious charade, threatened my grandfather's cherished garden and the sentimental old gazebo, my heart pounded with a desperate fear for my last remaining connection to home.

The ultimate horror struck during my hospital visit, as Lily's fabricated attack led Ethan, blinded by rage, to wrench the life-sustaining ventilator tube from my grandfather's machine. He called to disable the backup power, leaving my frail, elderly grandfather to suffocate in the silence, a deliberate act of cruelty to punish me. I stood there, utterly helpless, forced to watch my world disintegrate as the last breath left his body, his life stolen by a man I once believed in.

How could Ethan, the face of innovation and charity, commit such a monstrous act, discarding an innocent life based on a shallow girl's lies? The injustice burned through me, a searing wound that far outstripped the physical pain he inflicted; how could anyone be so effortlessly cruel, so easily fooled into becoming a murderer? My grief was absolute, but within it, a cold, hard resolve began to crystallize, transforming my shattered heart into a weapon.

As I knelt, broken, beside my grandfather's lifeless form, Marcus Thorne, a reclusive and powerful financier, appeared in the doorway, an unexpected anchor in my storm of despair. In that moment, a desperate, dangerous idea took root: I would marry Marcus, step into his world of power and influence, and from that unassailable position, I would rise from the ashes of my ruined life to exact a precise, calculated revenge on every single person who conspired in my downfall. This was not the end; it was the ruthless beginning of my second act.

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The applause was deafening, but a cold sweat trickled down my back. One moment, I was falling, the city skyline spinning. The next, I was here, at the TechFusion conference, the air thick with the smell of electronics and ambition. I looked down at my hands, steady, and took a deep breath. This was real. A second chance, pulled back from the brink of a self-inflicted end. But as I scanned the room, the past crashed into me. This was the day it all went wrong before. The host nervously announced, "It seems our next speaker, the one and only Brittany Hayes, is running a little behind schedule." Then, my phone vibrated. It was Brittany. "OMG Sarah, traffic is a nightmare! I'm gonna be late. Can you go up there and stall for me? Just say some smart marketing stuff. You're good at that. Pls pls pls save me! 🙏" Word for word, the exact same manipulative plea that had led to my public humiliation and downfall. In my past life, I' d been naive enough to agree, only for her to frame me as a desperate attention-seeker who tried to steal her spotlight. It had shattered my career, my reputation, my spirit. It started a chain of events that led to my ultimate destruction. I had lost everything. My company threw me under the bus, the industry blacklisted me, and the online mob issued death threats. I stood on my apartment balcony, the city lights blurred by tears, and I let go. The memory of my own death brought a chilling resolve. Brittany Hayes had taken everything from me. This time, the past wouldn' t repeat. This time, I knew the script. This wasn't just a second chance at life; it was a second chance at justice.

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I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

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