My Wife's Ultimate Betrayal: A Daughter's Life

My Wife's Ultimate Betrayal: A Daughter's Life

L. FITZGERALD

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The final handful of dirt hit my daughter Maya' s small casket. My wife, Jessica, was inexplicably absent from our only child's funeral. But the true horror unravelled when I overheard her voice from the study on a video call, casual and cold: "Maya... her birth was an inconvenience from the start." My stomach twisted. She' d skipped the funeral to go on a date with her college ex, Blake Harrison, who was now at our dinner table later that day. She'd already boxed up all of Maya's cherished belongings, labeled "Donate." My precious girl, labeled disposable. Jessica then threatened to ruin my career and steal my life' s work, Project Beacon, a revolutionary AI I had secretly poured years into. The woman I married wasn't just detached; she was a monster. She had orchestrated Maya's death, presenting it as aggressive treatment, all to clear the way for a reunion with an old flame. How could anyone be so calculating, so devoid of humanity, especially towards their own child? The grief that choked me transformed into pure, calculated fury. "I want a divorce," I told her, my voice steady. But that was just the start. The AI she thought was her leverage, the one she planned to use to destroy me, was already patented under a trust – the "Maya M. Miller Benevolent Trust." This wasn't just about my career; this was about securing Maya' s legacy. And I was just getting started.

Introduction

The final handful of dirt hit my daughter Maya' s small casket.

My wife, Jessica, was inexplicably absent from our only child's funeral.

But the true horror unravelled when I overheard her voice from the study on a video call, casual and cold: "Maya... her birth was an inconvenience from the start."

My stomach twisted.

She' d skipped the funeral to go on a date with her college ex, Blake Harrison, who was now at our dinner table later that day.

She'd already boxed up all of Maya's cherished belongings, labeled "Donate."

My precious girl, labeled disposable.

Jessica then threatened to ruin my career and steal my life' s work, Project Beacon, a revolutionary AI I had secretly poured years into.

The woman I married wasn't just detached; she was a monster.

She had orchestrated Maya's death, presenting it as aggressive treatment, all to clear the way for a reunion with an old flame.

How could anyone be so calculating, so devoid of humanity, especially towards their own child?

The grief that choked me transformed into pure, calculated fury.

"I want a divorce," I told her, my voice steady.

But that was just the start.

The AI she thought was her leverage, the one she planned to use to destroy me, was already patented under a trust – the "Maya M. Miller Benevolent Trust."

This wasn't just about my career; this was about securing Maya' s legacy.

And I was just getting started.

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He spent $9.99 million to put my name, Chloe Miller, on every billboard in Times Square. "Chloe, marry me." The proposal of the century, they called it. For ten years, I had been the perfect fiancée to Liam Sterling, heir to an empire. That proposal was supposed to be our grand finale. Then he vanished. Thirty days of chilling silence, broken only by paparazzi photos. Liam, in Paris, Rome, Tokyo – with her, Sarah Jenkins, his "white moonlight." The tabloids spun a tragic romance: Sarah, terminally ill; Liam, the noble savior on a farewell world tour. He became a saint. I became a footnote. Today, they returned. I stood at the private jet terminal, not to cry, but to end it. He strode out, tanned and relaxed, she frail and clinging. "Chloe," he said, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" "We're over, Liam." Sarah peeked from behind him, watery-eyed. "Chloe, please don't be mad at Liam. It's all my fault. I just wanted to see the world one last time before I go." Her performance was flawless. But I saw the healthy glow beneath her pale skin. "Upset her?" I asked, my voice dripping acid. "She looks healthier than I do." I held up my phone, showing a lab report. "Sarah, according to this, you are in perfect health. Not a single marker for any terminal illness." Liam snatched the phone. "Chloe, stop it! You've lost your mind! You're being cruel and manipulative!" He didn't want to believe me. His eyes, once full of trust, now saw me as a monster. "There's a sick woman who needs me," he said, stroking Sarah' s hair. "And then there's you, acting like a psycho." He offered me a crumb: "We'll get married as planned. Just... give me some time to handle this." He thought he could have us both. But looking at the man I had loved for ten years, I felt nothing. No, I thought. We will not be getting married. Not now. Not ever. I walked away, leaving him standing there. He didn't believe I would actually leave. He would soon learn just how wrong he was.

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