When Love Kills, And Then Reborns

When Love Kills, And Then Reborns

Gavin

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I was a successful Silicon Valley mogul, a man of immense wealth and, as it turned out, even greater naivety, deeply in love with my beautiful fiancée, Ava. Our meticulously planned future seemed perfect until tragedy allegedly struck: Ava "died" in a devastating rock-climbing accident, leaving my world utterly shattered and adrift. For years, in my grief, I poured millions of dollars into commemorative foundations and generously supported her "grieving sisters," Chloe and Zoe, genuinely mourning a love I believed was tragically lost. Then came the crushing blow: I stumbled upon her in Monaco – radiant, laughing, and shockingly alive on Liam Knight's arm, their children by their side, oblivious to my existence. They were living a lavish life, funded entirely by the immense fortune I had unknowingly gifted them through her fabricated death, a calculated deception that bled me dry for years. The sheer shock of this colossal betrayal, the agonizing realization of decades of meticulously planned deceit perpetrated by those I trusted most, was so profound it literally stopped my heart. My previous life, built on a foundation of love and trust, crumbled to ash as I felt the ultimate sting of idiocy and a crushing, all-consuming fury that burned hotter than any pain. But death wasn't the end for me; it was merely a reset. I snapped awake in the familiar luxury of my sprawling Silicon Valley mansion, the annoying beep of my alarm no longer a nuisance, but a powerful clarion call. It was the precise morning Ava was supposed to 'die,' the very day that had marked the agonizing origin of all my past life's misery and betrayal. This time, however, I wasn't the heartbroken, unsuspecting fiancé anymore. I was reborn, armed with every single painful memory and a cold, unyielding resolve, and my objective was terrifyingly clear: meticulously reclaim everything they stole, and ruthlessly expose every single viper who dared to prey on my trust.

Introduction

I was a successful Silicon Valley mogul, a man of immense wealth and, as it turned out, even greater naivety, deeply in love with my beautiful fiancée, Ava.

Our meticulously planned future seemed perfect until tragedy allegedly struck: Ava "died" in a devastating rock-climbing accident, leaving my world utterly shattered and adrift.

For years, in my grief, I poured millions of dollars into commemorative foundations and generously supported her "grieving sisters," Chloe and Zoe, genuinely mourning a love I believed was tragically lost.

Then came the crushing blow: I stumbled upon her in Monaco – radiant, laughing, and shockingly alive on Liam Knight's arm, their children by their side, oblivious to my existence.

They were living a lavish life, funded entirely by the immense fortune I had unknowingly gifted them through her fabricated death, a calculated deception that bled me dry for years.

The sheer shock of this colossal betrayal, the agonizing realization of decades of meticulously planned deceit perpetrated by those I trusted most, was so profound it literally stopped my heart.

My previous life, built on a foundation of love and trust, crumbled to ash as I felt the ultimate sting of idiocy and a crushing, all-consuming fury that burned hotter than any pain.

But death wasn't the end for me; it was merely a reset.

I snapped awake in the familiar luxury of my sprawling Silicon Valley mansion, the annoying beep of my alarm no longer a nuisance, but a powerful clarion call.

It was the precise morning Ava was supposed to 'die,' the very day that had marked the agonizing origin of all my past life's misery and betrayal.

This time, however, I wasn't the heartbroken, unsuspecting fiancé anymore.

I was reborn, armed with every single painful memory and a cold, unyielding resolve, and my objective was terrifyingly clear: meticulously reclaim everything they stole, and ruthlessly expose every single viper who dared to prey on my trust.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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