The Wife He Blinded: Her Clear Path

The Wife He Blinded: Her Clear Path

Gavin

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It was our second wedding anniversary, and I sat in a Boston women's clinic, a secret hope blossoming with every beat of my heart concerning my three-month late period. When my name, Sarah Miller, was called, I knew. I clutched the grayscale ultrasound photo – three months pregnant, our baby, Liam's and mine. My joy lasted seconds. There he was, my husband Liam Harrison, his arm around his college sweetheart, Olivia Hayes, in the waiting room. He barely spared me a glance, his eyes cold, only urgent commands to fetch sweets for her. The tiny hope for our marriage, nurtured for two years, turned to ash. This pretense, this life as his second choice, had to end. But Olivia wouldn't let me go quietly. She masterfully framed me for a staged mugging, convincing Liam I'd hired someone to hurt her. Then, in a final act of cruelty, she intentionally pushed me down a grand staircase in our home, leading to a devastating miscarriage. Lying in that hospital bed, broken and empty, my baby lost, a chilling fury consumed me. How could he be so incredibly blind, so utterly fooled by her lies, so dismissive of me, his wife? His unwavering devotion to her, even as she destroyed us, was incomprehensible. That fury ignited Liam' s doubt. Security footage and confessions exposed Olivia's tangled web of deceit, even her secret marriage. Now, he's full of remorse, begging for a second chance. But my path is clear: I'm stepping out of his shadow and into the bright Boston sun, ready to build a life on my own terms, leaving him and the past firmly behind.

Introduction

It was our second wedding anniversary, and I sat in a Boston women's clinic, a secret hope blossoming with every beat of my heart concerning my three-month late period.

When my name, Sarah Miller, was called, I knew.

I clutched the grayscale ultrasound photo – three months pregnant, our baby, Liam's and mine.

My joy lasted seconds.

There he was, my husband Liam Harrison, his arm around his college sweetheart, Olivia Hayes, in the waiting room.

He barely spared me a glance, his eyes cold, only urgent commands to fetch sweets for her.

The tiny hope for our marriage, nurtured for two years, turned to ash.

This pretense, this life as his second choice, had to end.

But Olivia wouldn't let me go quietly.

She masterfully framed me for a staged mugging, convincing Liam I'd hired someone to hurt her.

Then, in a final act of cruelty, she intentionally pushed me down a grand staircase in our home, leading to a devastating miscarriage.

Lying in that hospital bed, broken and empty, my baby lost, a chilling fury consumed me.

How could he be so incredibly blind, so utterly fooled by her lies, so dismissive of me, his wife?

His unwavering devotion to her, even as she destroyed us, was incomprehensible.

That fury ignited Liam' s doubt.

Security footage and confessions exposed Olivia's tangled web of deceit, even her secret marriage.

Now, he's full of remorse, begging for a second chance.

But my path is clear: I'm stepping out of his shadow and into the bright Boston sun, ready to build a life on my own terms, leaving him and the past firmly behind.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

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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