Not Their Ava: A Twisted Heir

Not Their Ava: A Twisted Heir

Clara Bennett

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My life began as a cold calculation: I was the Hamiltons' lab-grown spare, destined for my sick sister Clara. I ran at five, a worn silver locket clutched tight, but freedom turned into a nightmare with traffickers and an abusive woman who called me "Trash." My only true friend, the real Ava Hamilton, died in my arms during our first desperate escape attempt. "Make them pay," she whispered, her last breath a promise that tattooed itself onto my soul. Years later, a sleek black car arrived in the dusty desert. The Hamiltons were desperate, seeking their "missing Ava" for a now critically ill Clara. Brenda, my cruel captor, tried to pawn off her own daughter as the long-lost girl, a pathetic farce. I watched, every insult and beatings igniting a cold fury within me. They still didn't understand the depths of their depravity, the ledger of crimes I remembered, the life they' d stolen. They needed "Ava," and I would gladly step into that role. I offered them the locket, the subtle details only the real Ava would know, and watched their desperate hope ignite. They walked me into their gleaming hospital, believing they had found their perfect, compliant donor. They had no idea they had just welcomed their reckoning. This wasn't about being saved; it was about tearing down an empire, piece by agonizing piece, for Ava.

Introduction

My life began as a cold calculation: I was the Hamiltons' lab-grown spare, destined for my sick sister Clara.

I ran at five, a worn silver locket clutched tight, but freedom turned into a nightmare with traffickers and an abusive woman who called me "Trash."

My only true friend, the real Ava Hamilton, died in my arms during our first desperate escape attempt.

"Make them pay," she whispered, her last breath a promise that tattooed itself onto my soul.

Years later, a sleek black car arrived in the dusty desert.

The Hamiltons were desperate, seeking their "missing Ava" for a now critically ill Clara.

Brenda, my cruel captor, tried to pawn off her own daughter as the long-lost girl, a pathetic farce.

I watched, every insult and beatings igniting a cold fury within me.

They still didn't understand the depths of their depravity, the ledger of crimes I remembered, the life they' d stolen.

They needed "Ava," and I would gladly step into that role.

I offered them the locket, the subtle details only the real Ava would know, and watched their desperate hope ignite.

They walked me into their gleaming hospital, believing they had found their perfect, compliant donor.

They had no idea they had just welcomed their reckoning.

This wasn't about being saved; it was about tearing down an empire, piece by agonizing piece, for Ava.

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The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

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My name is Ryan Thorne. I was sitting on the cold hospital floor, cradling my son Leo' s lifeless body. He was gone. Killed by a monstrous "therapy" in a sensory deprivation tank. His wide, terrified eyes stared blankly, a permanent mask of horror. On the TV screen, my ex-fiancée, Sophia Hayes, was marrying a man who looked exactly like me: Ryan Thorne. But he wasn't me. He was the imposter, the man Sophia told me was my brother. A searing pain shot through my head, not from the forgotten car crash, but from memories flooding back. My name isn't Ethan Miller. It's Ryan Thorne. The real Ryan Thorne. The man on that screen had stolen my name, my face, my entire life. Five years ago, after the crash, Sophia convinced me I was "Ethan Miller," an architect who needed a kidney. She pointed to the imposter, my long-lost brother, a perfect match for my supposed kidney failure. I gave him my kidney, my identity, my inheritance. Everything. Leo, my sweet, sensitive boy, was the only real thing in that fabricated life. He overheard Sophia and the imposter laughing about their cruel deception. The man he adored wasn't his father. Shattered, Leo collapsed. Sophia, knowing his claustrophobia, locked him in the tank for "therapy." "Dad help. Scared. Dark." His last text. I found Sophia outside, watching her clock. "My son shouldn't be weak and afraid. He needs to get over his issues. Besides, how could therapy kill anyone?" she'd said. I broke in, but it was too late. Leo was gone. Now, as I held him, the full truth crashed down. "Mom," I said, dialing a number I hadn't called in five years. "It's Ryan." "I remember everything," I continued, my gaze fixed on the laughing faces on the TV. "It's time for me to leave." They took my life. They took my son. I would take it all back.

Chloe’s Game: No More Mr. Nice

Chloe’s Game: No More Mr. Nice

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The air in my workshop crackled with the hum of servers, a frantic race against a deadline for the National Tech Innovator' s Competition. My revolutionary AI was finally ready, my fingers flying across the keyboard, when my older brother Ethan walked in, his smile perfect and camera-ready. He handed me an energy drink, "A little something for good luck," he said, his voice smooth as silk. But as my fingers brushed the can, a glitched red warning flashed on my monitor: "WARNING: Item contains a bio-tech neuro-inhibitor. Target: Chloe." My heart hammered. Before I could process it, my childhood friend, Liam, arrived with a delicate charm bracelet and another warning: "WARNING: Item is a remote data-theft device… Recipient: Sarah." Sarah. My biggest rival. The pieces clicked into place: it was a plan to steal my mind and my work for her. Before I could react, Brenda, the school bully, burst in, demanding money. A cold, sharp idea formed in my mind. I gave Brenda the sabotaged drink and bracelet. Ethan' s perfect smile vanished, replaced by fury, as he hissed, "You' d rather give it to her than accept my help?" Liam, playing the peacemaker, tried to push another bracelet on me, another link in their chain. The fear was gone, replaced by something harder. I looked at their deceptive faces, my brother and my best friend, united against me. "No, thank you, Liam," I said, my voice clear and void of emotion, meeting Ethan' s furious gaze. This wasn' t a surrender. Their game was over. Mine was just beginning.

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