His Sacrifice, Her Freedom

His Sacrifice, Her Freedom

Gavin

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The acceptance letter for architecture school abroad felt like my escape, a tangible sign I was finally putting myself first after years of playing a role. I was Ava Green, once a vibrant art history student, who threw it all away to become the devoted caretaker for Liam Hayes, the brilliant tech mogul who lost his sight in a devastating accident. His family, grateful for my endless devotion, "helped" my grandmother with her medical bills, creating a silent, crushing obligation that bound me to them and to Liam, for years. I became his eyes, his anchor, abandoning my own dreams to stitch his shattered life back together, believing our shared trauma forged an unbreakable love. But then Chloe Davis, his ex-fiancée, a glamorous concert pianist from his "real" world, returned, and I watched his affection fracture, then shift entirely. At his company' s gala, I saw Liam laugh with Chloe, a genuine, unguarded sound I hadn' t heard in months, a brutal reminder that I was just a placeholder. Later, I overheard Chloe tell Liam that I couldn' t be his partner, "not really," and his silence was all the answer I needed. My heart shattered, the realization hitting me: I was a glorified nurse, easily discarded the moment his true equal returned. The public humiliation came swiftly at a charity gala, when Liam' s sister, Sarah, cruelly exposed me as a "charity case" and publicly shamed me, dousing me in wine, while Liam, lost in Chloe' s orbit, remained oblivious. Why didn' t he see me? Why did he let them do this to me after everything I sacrificed? That night, packing my bags, I knew I had to escape this gilded cage; I would reclaim my life, pay back every cent, and build a future where I was seen, for myself.

Introduction

The acceptance letter for architecture school abroad felt like my escape, a tangible sign I was finally putting myself first after years of playing a role.

I was Ava Green, once a vibrant art history student, who threw it all away to become the devoted caretaker for Liam Hayes, the brilliant tech mogul who lost his sight in a devastating accident.

His family, grateful for my endless devotion, "helped" my grandmother with her medical bills, creating a silent, crushing obligation that bound me to them and to Liam, for years.

I became his eyes, his anchor, abandoning my own dreams to stitch his shattered life back together, believing our shared trauma forged an unbreakable love.

But then Chloe Davis, his ex-fiancée, a glamorous concert pianist from his "real" world, returned, and I watched his affection fracture, then shift entirely.

At his company' s gala, I saw Liam laugh with Chloe, a genuine, unguarded sound I hadn' t heard in months, a brutal reminder that I was just a placeholder.

Later, I overheard Chloe tell Liam that I couldn' t be his partner, "not really," and his silence was all the answer I needed.

My heart shattered, the realization hitting me: I was a glorified nurse, easily discarded the moment his true equal returned.

The public humiliation came swiftly at a charity gala, when Liam' s sister, Sarah, cruelly exposed me as a "charity case" and publicly shamed me, dousing me in wine, while Liam, lost in Chloe' s orbit, remained oblivious.

Why didn' t he see me? Why did he let them do this to me after everything I sacrificed?

That night, packing my bags, I knew I had to escape this gilded cage; I would reclaim my life, pay back every cent, and build a future where I was seen, for myself.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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