He Broke My Leg, I Broke His Empire

He Broke My Leg, I Broke His Empire

Yuan Xiluo

5.0
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The blizzard howled, tearing through my truck, through my bones. My leg, shattered by Ethan's enforcers, throbbed, a familiar pain mirroring the betrayal in my heart. My phone screen flickered, a cruel final joke, announcing Ethan had just won "Family Values Politician of the Year." The photo showed him beaming, his arm around Brittany, and a little boy, their adopted son, wearing my Daisy' s bracelet. The one I' d made for her before Ethan sold her to child traffickers. My life, this wretched string of Ethan' s deceits, flashed before my eyes. I' d sold off my family' s historic ranch, acre by precious acre, to fund his political ambitions, only to be branded "uncivilized" for the calloused hands that built our legacy. He' d given my only insulated coat to Brittany, called me hysterical for a post-birth hemorrhage while giving my life-saving medicine to Brittany for a "migraine." Then, the county fair. To pay off a campaign scandal, he' d arranged for Daisy to get "lost," selling our daughter. When his deal went sour, he' d used me as a shield, promising to tell me where she was if I protected him. I fought like a cornered animal, and they broke my leg. He never told me. Dying in this snow, watching the man who destroyed everything receive an award, with my daughter' s bracelet on another child' s wrist? The injustice was a suffocating shroud. Why did he hate me so much? How could he be so cruel? What kind of monster sells his own child? Then, darkness. And a gasp. I jolted awake, not in a blizzard, but in Brittany' s lavish home, pregnant. Pregnant with Daisy. This time, things would be different.

Introduction

The blizzard howled, tearing through my truck, through my bones. My leg, shattered by Ethan's enforcers, throbbed, a familiar pain mirroring the betrayal in my heart.

My phone screen flickered, a cruel final joke, announcing Ethan had just won "Family Values Politician of the Year."

The photo showed him beaming, his arm around Brittany, and a little boy, their adopted son, wearing my Daisy' s bracelet. The one I' d made for her before Ethan sold her to child traffickers.

My life, this wretched string of Ethan' s deceits, flashed before my eyes. I' d sold off my family' s historic ranch, acre by precious acre, to fund his political ambitions, only to be branded "uncivilized" for the calloused hands that built our legacy.

He' d given my only insulated coat to Brittany, called me hysterical for a post-birth hemorrhage while giving my life-saving medicine to Brittany for a "migraine."

Then, the county fair. To pay off a campaign scandal, he' d arranged for Daisy to get "lost," selling our daughter.

When his deal went sour, he' d used me as a shield, promising to tell me where she was if I protected him. I fought like a cornered animal, and they broke my leg. He never told me.

Dying in this snow, watching the man who destroyed everything receive an award, with my daughter' s bracelet on another child' s wrist?

The injustice was a suffocating shroud. Why did he hate me so much? How could he be so cruel? What kind of monster sells his own child?

Then, darkness. And a gasp. I jolted awake, not in a blizzard, but in Brittany' s lavish home, pregnant. Pregnant with Daisy. This time, things would be different.

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"I' m sorry, Ms. Davies, but there seems to be a problem." The government clerk's words hit me like a physical blow. Liam and I were so excited, registering our baby' s birth early, making it all feel real. Then she said it: "Mr. Liam O' Connell is already married. His marriage to a Ms. Sienna Reed was registered six months ago." My world shattered. Married? To someone else? My cherished marriage certificate was a fake. The man who' d told me he' d searched for me every day during my year-long amnesia, the man who swore he only waited for me, had found a replacement. He had looked me in the eye and lied. Returning home, I found her clothes in his closet, her bracelet in his jewelry box. Then, I heard his voice, soft and intimate on the phone, telling 'her' I suspected nothing. "She' s just… a substitute. A shadow. She looks like you, that' s all." A wave of nausea washed over me, mixing with the sharp pain of my pregnancy apps notifications. He said he was off to a crisis in Chicago, but I drove to the luxury condo he' d once mentioned. There, I watched him kiss Sienna, a deep, passionate embrace he hadn't given me in months. This wasn't just cheating; this was a deliberate, long-term deception orchestrated for my family's money. All the while, my baby, our baby, was growing inside me, tainted by his lies. The man I loved saw me as nothing but a means to an end. My heart breaking, I was left to wonder: how could I have been so blind? What kind of monster had I loved?

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The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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