Disowned, Disabled, Dangerous

Disowned, Disabled, Dangerous

Gavin

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My engagement party was just one night away. A celebration of big money, big families, and my upcoming marriage to Izzy Hayes. But first, a "surprise" at a remote pump house, arranged by Izzy and my supposed brother, Liam. When I arrived, there was no Izzy, no Liam, just shadows. Then came the blows. Blinding, searing pain, and the sickening crunch of my Achilles tendons. I woke up in a hospital, weak and blind, my legs burning with infection. Through a medicated haze, I heard my own mother, Eleanor, casually discussing amputating my legs. "Do what you must," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "He won't be needing to carry on the Vance name anyway." She and Liam were plotting, gloating about securing the Vance empire, about how I, her own son, would no longer be a problem. The cold certainty hit me: this barbaric attack, my disfigurement, it was their doing. My home wasn't a homecoming; it was a death trap. Rage, pure and cold, flooded me. Then I learned my kind father, Marcus, who secretly saved Eleanor's life with his kidney, was now being tortured at Victor Sterling' s "wellness retreat." Drugged and slowly dying from organ rejection, all part of their larger conspiracy. They stripped me of everything, but they underestimated my will to fight. Feigning unconsciousness, I fumbled for my hidden burner phone. This was just the beginning.

Introduction

My engagement party was just one night away.

A celebration of big money, big families, and my upcoming marriage to Izzy Hayes.

But first, a "surprise" at a remote pump house, arranged by Izzy and my supposed brother, Liam.

When I arrived, there was no Izzy, no Liam, just shadows.

Then came the blows.

Blinding, searing pain, and the sickening crunch of my Achilles tendons.

I woke up in a hospital, weak and blind, my legs burning with infection.

Through a medicated haze, I heard my own mother, Eleanor, casually discussing amputating my legs.

"Do what you must," she said, her voice devoid of warmth.

"He won't be needing to carry on the Vance name anyway."

She and Liam were plotting, gloating about securing the Vance empire, about how I, her own son, would no longer be a problem.

The cold certainty hit me: this barbaric attack, my disfigurement, it was their doing.

My home wasn't a homecoming; it was a death trap.

Rage, pure and cold, flooded me.

Then I learned my kind father, Marcus, who secretly saved Eleanor's life with his kidney, was now being tortured at Victor Sterling' s "wellness retreat."

Drugged and slowly dying from organ rejection, all part of their larger conspiracy.

They stripped me of everything, but they underestimated my will to fight.

Feigning unconsciousness, I fumbled for my hidden burner phone.

This was just the beginning.

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