The Million-Dollar Escape

The Million-Dollar Escape

Yi Yanni

5.0
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I was a struggling musician in Brooklyn, barely making ends meet. Then I found Vic, an amnesiac girl with wide, scared eyes, and my world changed. We shared instant noodles and cheap wine, her laughter filling my cramped studio. She believed in my music, even when I didn't, and her gift of my grandmother' s vintage guitar pick became a symbol of our pure, impossible love. But then, Vic remembered her past. She transformed into Victoria Ashford, a cold, sharp heiress, returning to her glittering world. The woman who once fussed over my paper cuts now looked at me with polite indifference. Our profound connection was replaced by her mother' s demands and Spencer Hayes, her new, polished fiancé. I became her humiliation, a relic from a life she disavowed. At a lavish gala, she dismissed my pain when Spencer' s friends deliberately crushed my guitar hand. The hand I needed for every note, every chord, now irrevocably damaged. My music, my livelihood, my very soul, was shattered as she stood by, unmoving. How could the girl who understood my deepest dreams become this calculating stranger? How could she watch my life' s passion be destroyed without a flicker of remorse? The truth was colder than any winter: she saw my suffering as mere inconvenience. Then, her mother offered me a million dollars to disappear. A breakup fee for a love she never recognized. I took it, not as defeat, but as the only way to escape the golden cage and rebuild. I left, determined to forge a new path, far from the echoes of what we once were.

Introduction

I was a struggling musician in Brooklyn, barely making ends meet.

Then I found Vic, an amnesiac girl with wide, scared eyes, and my world changed.

We shared instant noodles and cheap wine, her laughter filling my cramped studio.

She believed in my music, even when I didn't, and her gift of my grandmother' s vintage guitar pick became a symbol of our pure, impossible love.

But then, Vic remembered her past.

She transformed into Victoria Ashford, a cold, sharp heiress, returning to her glittering world.

The woman who once fussed over my paper cuts now looked at me with polite indifference.

Our profound connection was replaced by her mother' s demands and Spencer Hayes, her new, polished fiancé.

I became her humiliation, a relic from a life she disavowed.

At a lavish gala, she dismissed my pain when Spencer' s friends deliberately crushed my guitar hand.

The hand I needed for every note, every chord, now irrevocably damaged.

My music, my livelihood, my very soul, was shattered as she stood by, unmoving.

How could the girl who understood my deepest dreams become this calculating stranger?

How could she watch my life' s passion be destroyed without a flicker of remorse?

The truth was colder than any winter: she saw my suffering as mere inconvenience.

Then, her mother offered me a million dollars to disappear.

A breakup fee for a love she never recognized.

I took it, not as defeat, but as the only way to escape the golden cage and rebuild.

I left, determined to forge a new path, far from the echoes of what we once were.

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My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

My Wife, My Best Friend, Their Deceit

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5.0

My best friend Kevin invited me to his dad' s 60th birthday, a big celebration because his dad had terminal cancer. My wife, Olivia, couldn't make it; she was on a two-week work trip in Europe, a crucial conference for her career. But when I arrived at the party, I saw Olivia, kneeling before Mr. and Mrs. Miller, performing a "daughter-in-law tea" ceremony, dressed in a way I' d never seen. Then I heard Kevin' s relative say, "Kevin is so lucky. His fiancée is just wonderful." Fiancée. The word crushed me. Olivia' s practiced smile froze when she saw me. She pulled me aside, whispering, "Ethan, what are you doing here? It's not what you think." Kevin then appeared, claiming it was a "little white lie" for his dying father, wanting to see him settled. Olivia eagerly agreed, pleading with me to keep quiet, "just for today." They stood there, my wife and my best friend, united in their deceit, asking me to participate in my own humiliation. A cold clarity washed over me. "For your dad's dying wish? Does his dying wish also include a grandchild to complete the 'four-generation' picture? Are you pregnant, too?" The air turned to ice. Olivia recoiled, then feigned outrage, calling me "cruel." Her gaslighting was instant. Later that night, I went home to retrieve belongings and found them passionately kissing on my couch. "It's... it's not what it looks like!" she gasped, but I pulled out my phone, recording, "Save it for the judge. I want a divorce. And I'm keeping the dog."

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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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