Love's Ashes, Vengeance's Spark

Love's Ashes, Vengeance's Spark

Baxy Koseluk

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My life as a celebrated chef was perfectly seasoned: a Michelin-starred restaurant, a demanding but respected father, and a beautiful fiancée, Chloe, who promised an empire. Then, one catastrophic night, I found Chloe, my love, in a passionate embrace with Liam, my supposed business partner, amidst the dry storage of my father' s restaurant. Rage, blinding and raw, consumed me. A fight erupted, sacks of flour burst, and cooking oil slicked the floor, transforming our kitchen into a powder keg. My ailing father, drawn by the chaos, collapsed, his eyes filled with disappointment, not at the scene, but at me. Chloe seized the moment, twisting the narrative: "He' s lost it, Dad! He' s going to destroy everything!" Liam, at Chloe's silent command, ignited a kitchen torch and tossed it into the spilled oil and flour. The world exploded in flames as Chloe dragged Liam away, screaming, "Ethan did this! He tried to kill us all!" I was left trapped in a roaring inferno with my dying father, his last breath a whisper against my hand. At the hospital, framed as the jealous arsonist, I learned my father died of a heart attack, not the fire. Chloe, pristine and emotionless, pressured me to donate skin grafts to Liam, the man who set the fire, repeatedly. I overheard her cold calculations: my "tragedy" was a marketing opportunity, and my subsequent injuries meant "no messy heirs to complicate the inheritance." They wanted everything, including my very essence, leaving me an empty shell. Liam, with a cruel smirk, taunted me, "Chloe' s with a real man now. Someone who can give her what she wants." I finally saw it all: a calculated, systematic destruction, orchestrated by the woman I loved. The pain, once crippling, ignited a new purpose; this was not the end, but the beginning of a war.

Introduction

My life as a celebrated chef was perfectly seasoned: a Michelin-starred restaurant, a demanding but respected father, and a beautiful fiancée, Chloe, who promised an empire.

Then, one catastrophic night, I found Chloe, my love, in a passionate embrace with Liam, my supposed business partner, amidst the dry storage of my father' s restaurant.

Rage, blinding and raw, consumed me. A fight erupted, sacks of flour burst, and cooking oil slicked the floor, transforming our kitchen into a powder keg.

My ailing father, drawn by the chaos, collapsed, his eyes filled with disappointment, not at the scene, but at me.

Chloe seized the moment, twisting the narrative: "He' s lost it, Dad! He' s going to destroy everything!"

Liam, at Chloe's silent command, ignited a kitchen torch and tossed it into the spilled oil and flour.

The world exploded in flames as Chloe dragged Liam away, screaming, "Ethan did this! He tried to kill us all!"

I was left trapped in a roaring inferno with my dying father, his last breath a whisper against my hand.

At the hospital, framed as the jealous arsonist, I learned my father died of a heart attack, not the fire.

Chloe, pristine and emotionless, pressured me to donate skin grafts to Liam, the man who set the fire, repeatedly.

I overheard her cold calculations: my "tragedy" was a marketing opportunity, and my subsequent injuries meant "no messy heirs to complicate the inheritance."

They wanted everything, including my very essence, leaving me an empty shell.

Liam, with a cruel smirk, taunted me, "Chloe' s with a real man now. Someone who can give her what she wants."

I finally saw it all: a calculated, systematic destruction, orchestrated by the woman I loved.

The pain, once crippling, ignited a new purpose; this was not the end, but the beginning of a war.

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