Wired For His Betrayal

Wired For His Betrayal

Gavin

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The cold silver wires felt like ice against my skin, a stark contrast to the familiar warmth of my lab. Three years of my life, three years of marriage, were supposed to lead to our shared triumph, not this. Not me strapped to a chair in our penthouse, the neural interface humming ominously as it pressed against my temple. This was Mark' s project, but it was my creation. The MindSync algorithm was my soul, coded into existence. I, Ava Green, a software engineer who believed in technology that could connect people, had designed it to personalize user experience on a level never seen before. I gave it to my husband, Mark, the brilliant tech CEO I loved, the man I thought loved me. He re-engineered MindSync to extract a user\'s deepest desires, their most private emotional data, turning human feeling into a commodity he could monetize for unparalleled market control. And I never knew. "Ava, Sophia\'s condition is agonizing," he said, his voice flat. "Only your personalized MindSync can truly help her. Your emotional core is the key." He didn\'t look at my tears. He watched the monitor, tracking the progress of the extraction. The machine whirred to life, and a piercing pain shot through my skull. It felt like my thoughts were being ripped out one by one, my memories shredded, my feelings siphoned away into the humming device. Tears streamed down my face. "Mark, why?" I begged, my voice cracking. He looked at me like I was a piece of hardware. When it was over, he detached the wires. I slumped in the chair, a hollowed-out shell. The vibrant world of emotions I once lived in was gone, replaced by a gray, empty void. He handled the glowing data chip with more care than he had ever shown me. I became a shadow, following him from a distance, a desperate attempt to stay connected to the last piece of myself. Without the MindSync core, my cognitive functions were degrading. My mind would fray, my thoughts would unravel, and soon I would be a vegetable. Mark never offered to help. "You\'re not human, how could you possibly understand her pain?" he said, his voice sharp. Three years of marriage, and in his eyes, I was just a tool. I managed to get inside the building, my movements stiff and uncoordinated. I found them in the lobby. Sophia, seeing me, feigned surprise and shrank into Mark\'s arms. "Can I have my MindSync back?" I asked, my voice thin. "That\'s just a shell now, it' s useless to you," he said dismissively. "It' s for the greater good." My last hope, my only chance. My decision was made. I would take back what was mine.

Introduction

The cold silver wires felt like ice against my skin, a stark contrast to the familiar warmth of my lab.

Three years of my life, three years of marriage, were supposed to lead to our shared triumph, not this.

Not me strapped to a chair in our penthouse, the neural interface humming ominously as it pressed against my temple.

This was Mark' s project, but it was my creation.

The MindSync algorithm was my soul, coded into existence.

I, Ava Green, a software engineer who believed in technology that could connect people, had designed it to personalize user experience on a level never seen before.

I gave it to my husband, Mark, the brilliant tech CEO I loved, the man I thought loved me.

He re-engineered MindSync to extract a user\'s deepest desires, their most private emotional data, turning human feeling into a commodity he could monetize for unparalleled market control.

And I never knew.

"Ava, Sophia\'s condition is agonizing," he said, his voice flat. "Only your personalized MindSync can truly help her. Your emotional core is the key."

He didn\'t look at my tears.

He watched the monitor, tracking the progress of the extraction.

The machine whirred to life, and a piercing pain shot through my skull.

It felt like my thoughts were being ripped out one by one, my memories shredded, my feelings siphoned away into the humming device.

Tears streamed down my face.

"Mark, why?" I begged, my voice cracking.

He looked at me like I was a piece of hardware.

When it was over, he detached the wires.

I slumped in the chair, a hollowed-out shell.

The vibrant world of emotions I once lived in was gone, replaced by a gray, empty void.

He handled the glowing data chip with more care than he had ever shown me.

I became a shadow, following him from a distance, a desperate attempt to stay connected to the last piece of myself.

Without the MindSync core, my cognitive functions were degrading.

My mind would fray, my thoughts would unravel, and soon I would be a vegetable.

Mark never offered to help.

"You\'re not human, how could you possibly understand her pain?" he said, his voice sharp.

Three years of marriage, and in his eyes, I was just a tool.

I managed to get inside the building, my movements stiff and uncoordinated.

I found them in the lobby.

Sophia, seeing me, feigned surprise and shrank into Mark\'s arms.

"Can I have my MindSync back?" I asked, my voice thin.

"That\'s just a shell now, it' s useless to you," he said dismissively. "It' s for the greater good."

My last hope, my only chance.

My decision was made.

I would take back what was mine.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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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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