His Billion-Dollar Regret

His Billion-Dollar Regret

Gavin

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My body was a battlefield, stitches screaming with every step, but my heart soared. I had just given a kidney to save Liam, the struggling artist I loved more than life itself. This massive sacrifice for the man I believed was my destiny, the fellow orphan who understood my every struggle, was all worth it because he would live. But then, laughter peeled from his hospital room – not just Liam' s, but his wealthy friends', their voices dripping with cruel amusement. "I can' t believe she actually did it," Tiffany' s voice sliced through me. "Sold a kidney! For you! That is the funniest thing I have ever heard." My world shattered as Liam, the "dying" patient, emerged from his charade, pulling off a fake IV and lighting a cigarette, his smirk cold and unfamiliar. The room reeked of betrayal. Liam, the "struggling artist," was the heir to the massive Blackwood Corporation. His illness, our shared past, his love – all a meticulously crafted lie, a cruel game orchestrated by Tiffany to "teach the little orphan a lesson." The thought made me sick; I had carved myself open for a ghost, my every genuine feeling trashed for their entertainment. Why? Why would someone inflict such calculated cruelty? My hope, once so vibrant, was crushed, leaving a gaping wound where my heart used to be. The humiliation was a physical weight, but then a cold, quiet rage began to burn away the tears. They thought they had broken me, reduced me to a pathetic charity case. They were wrong. I would not be their mouse anymore. I pulled out my phone, a new purpose hardening my resolve. I was done playing their game; it was time to leave.

Introduction

My body was a battlefield, stitches screaming with every step, but my heart soared.

I had just given a kidney to save Liam, the struggling artist I loved more than life itself.

This massive sacrifice for the man I believed was my destiny, the fellow orphan who understood my every struggle, was all worth it because he would live.

But then, laughter peeled from his hospital room – not just Liam' s, but his wealthy friends', their voices dripping with cruel amusement.

"I can' t believe she actually did it," Tiffany' s voice sliced through me.

"Sold a kidney!

For you!

That is the funniest thing I have ever heard."

My world shattered as Liam, the "dying" patient, emerged from his charade, pulling off a fake IV and lighting a cigarette, his smirk cold and unfamiliar.

The room reeked of betrayal.

Liam, the "struggling artist," was the heir to the massive Blackwood Corporation.

His illness, our shared past, his love – all a meticulously crafted lie, a cruel game orchestrated by Tiffany to "teach the little orphan a lesson."

The thought made me sick; I had carved myself open for a ghost, my every genuine feeling trashed for their entertainment.

Why?

Why would someone inflict such calculated cruelty?

My hope, once so vibrant, was crushed, leaving a gaping wound where my heart used to be.

The humiliation was a physical weight, but then a cold, quiet rage began to burn away the tears.

They thought they had broken me, reduced me to a pathetic charity case.

They were wrong.

I would not be their mouse anymore.

I pulled out my phone, a new purpose hardening my resolve.

I was done playing their game; it was time to leave.

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