My Stolen Life, My True Love

My Stolen Life, My True Love

Gavin

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The buzzing chaos of my engagement party in 2002 felt sickeningly familiar. I was Ava, back in a life I' d already lived and lost, my head throbbing with memories of a past I was meant to escape. I stood beside Mike, the charming screw-up I' d painstakingly transformed into a partner, turning our dead-end family farm into a success in my first existence. Then I saw her: Chloe, my stepsister, radiating false innocence, her arm provocatively linked with David's. She was the one who plunged a knife into my back, because she couldn't stand my happiness. But the true horror struck when our eyes met – a cold, knowing flicker passed between us. She knew. She was back too. Suddenly, Chloe let out a dramatic wail, tearing herself from David. "No! I can't marry David! I want to marry Mike!" she declared, her voice ringing with feigned tears, publicly humiliating David and staking her claim on my future livelihood. Sharon, my calculated stepmother, then slyly tried to push David, a man Chloe would cripple and abandon in our previous lives, onto me, thinking she was winning her cruel game. The audacity of it: my murderer, back from the dead, attempting to steal the very life she' d taken from me before. A terrifying question echoed: What twisted game was this, and why was fate giving her another chance to ruin everything? A furious resolve simmered beneath my feigned hurt. "But I have conditions," I stated, my eyes fixed on Sharon' s, a new steel in my voice. This wasn't just a switch of fiancés; this was round two. And this time, I would not only thrive, but dismantle every one of their vile schemes, making them pay for every single betrayal.

Introduction

The buzzing chaos of my engagement party in 2002 felt sickeningly familiar.

I was Ava, back in a life I' d already lived and lost, my head throbbing with memories of a past I was meant to escape.

I stood beside Mike, the charming screw-up I' d painstakingly transformed into a partner, turning our dead-end family farm into a success in my first existence.

Then I saw her: Chloe, my stepsister, radiating false innocence, her arm provocatively linked with David's.

She was the one who plunged a knife into my back, because she couldn't stand my happiness.

But the true horror struck when our eyes met – a cold, knowing flicker passed between us.

She knew. She was back too.

Suddenly, Chloe let out a dramatic wail, tearing herself from David.

"No! I can't marry David! I want to marry Mike!" she declared, her voice ringing with feigned tears, publicly humiliating David and staking her claim on my future livelihood.

Sharon, my calculated stepmother, then slyly tried to push David, a man Chloe would cripple and abandon in our previous lives, onto me, thinking she was winning her cruel game.

The audacity of it: my murderer, back from the dead, attempting to steal the very life she' d taken from me before.

A terrifying question echoed: What twisted game was this, and why was fate giving her another chance to ruin everything?

A furious resolve simmered beneath my feigned hurt.

"But I have conditions," I stated, my eyes fixed on Sharon' s, a new steel in my voice.

This wasn't just a switch of fiancés; this was round two.

And this time, I would not only thrive, but dismantle every one of their vile schemes, making them pay for every single betrayal.

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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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