Reclaiming My Lost Sons

Reclaiming My Lost Sons

Gavin

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My life was built on an American dream: a loving wife, Jessica, and our incredible 9-year-old son, Leo. He was the center of my world. Then, a brutal blow. Jessica was cheating, and my friend revealed, "Leo isn't yours." My wife confirmed it brazenly, smirking, naming a wealthy businessman as her lover and Leo's biological father. My very existence fractured. I sought solace from my mother, Sarah, my rock. Instead, she demanded I stay married. She bafflingly sided with Jessica, even giving her money for "debts" while denying my struggling startup a vital loan. When we both fell ill, she coldly gave my medicine to Jessica, leaving me to suffer. Her serene facade now hid a chilling calculation. "Get out!" I screamed, renouncing her, and moved out, filing for divorce, utterly abandoned. How could my own mother betray me so utterly? Why was she protecting the woman who destroyed everything? Was she mad, or was there a sinister plot behind her actions? Each day plunged me deeper into suspicion, despair, and profound confusion. Months later, a cryptic text from her: "Come to the festival. Now. You need to see this." Amidst the crowd, she stood with a boy identical to Leo. As my wife, holding our Leo, confronted her, my mother dropped the bombshell. "This is Ethan," she announced, "your son." "And so is Leo." "They are your biological twin sons. Yours and Emily's." My deceased first wife. The unimaginable truth had finally begun to unfold.

Introduction

My life was built on an American dream: a loving wife, Jessica, and our incredible 9-year-old son, Leo.

He was the center of my world.

Then, a brutal blow.

Jessica was cheating, and my friend revealed, "Leo isn't yours."

My wife confirmed it brazenly, smirking, naming a wealthy businessman as her lover and Leo's biological father.

My very existence fractured.

I sought solace from my mother, Sarah, my rock.

Instead, she demanded I stay married.

She bafflingly sided with Jessica, even giving her money for "debts" while denying my struggling startup a vital loan.

When we both fell ill, she coldly gave my medicine to Jessica, leaving me to suffer.

Her serene facade now hid a chilling calculation.

"Get out!" I screamed, renouncing her, and moved out, filing for divorce, utterly abandoned.

How could my own mother betray me so utterly?

Why was she protecting the woman who destroyed everything?

Was she mad, or was there a sinister plot behind her actions?

Each day plunged me deeper into suspicion, despair, and profound confusion.

Months later, a cryptic text from her: "Come to the festival. Now. You need to see this."

Amidst the crowd, she stood with a boy identical to Leo.

As my wife, holding our Leo, confronted her, my mother dropped the bombshell.

"This is Ethan," she announced, "your son."

"And so is Leo."

"They are your biological twin sons. Yours and Emily's."

My deceased first wife.

The unimaginable truth had finally begun to unfold.

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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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