The Price of His Ambition

Gavin

Modern | Completed

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The dust and the agony were my first sensations-my right leg a grinding hell, Lily clutched tight against my chest as growls surrounded us. Then, the thumping. A helicopter, David' s face. He knelt, his suit dirty, grief etched on his face as he saw our daughter, limp in my arms. I woke to the sterile hospital, a dull throb where my leg had been. And then, I heard voices from the hall-David and his mother. "The leg is gone," David said, his voice cold, stripped of sorrow. "It' s cleaner this way. She' ll live." "It solves the problem," his mother, Eleanor, agreed, devoid of sorrow. "The inheritance is secure." My blood ran cold as I heard David whisper the chilling truth: "I needed a legitimate reason to get rid of Sarah. Her injury allows me to bring Monica into the picture, making everything look legitimate." Monica, his new assistant? His fiancée? "And the girl?" Eleanor' s voice was even colder. "Lily was just collateral damage. Honestly, it' s for the best. Now, it' s just Monica' s child to think about." My heart monitor screamed. The man who had sobbed over our daughter, who had held my hand, had orchestrated this. He had fed us to those dogs. Lily was my world, sacrificed for money. The love, the trust, the family-all shattered. He hadn' t rescued me; he had inspected his work. The matriarch confirmed it: "No one will question it." This was their plan. My daughter' s death, a business solution. I was utterly alone, surrounded by monsters. Eleanor brought Monica, who beamed with practiced pity. Then David announced the final blow: "She' s pregnant." An heir. My Lily, extinguished to make way for this celebration. A raw sound tore from my throat. David rushed to me, feigning concern, reaching out. I flinched from his fire-like touch. "I want to see her," I rasped, my voice a dry whisper. "Lily," I choked out. "I want to see my baby." He hesitated, then gave in, still playing the doting husband. My agreement wasn' t a victory; it was another move in his sick game. But I needed to see my girl. The next morning, he brought a small wooden box. "This is her," he said. I clutched it, raw sobs tearing through me. He feigned sorrow, but I knew. Eleanor had chosen the park, a remote spot. A trap. I remembered the glint of binoculars on the ridge-He had watched. He hadn' t been in a board meeting. He was my enemy. And I had to survive him. Monica returned, carrying soup, her voice dripping with false care. She watched David fuss over her, then poured the soup down the sink. "You don' t really think he wants you to recover, do you?" she purred, stripping away her mask. "Your little 'injury' ... he made sure saving it wasn' t a priority." "What are you talking about?" I whispered. She ripped back the blanket. Where my leg should have been, there was only empty space, bandaged tightly. He hadn' t just let me get injured; he' d had it removed. He had dismembered me. "It' s just some dog' s ashes," Monica scoffed, gesturing to the box. "There is no body. The dogs he trained... they were very hungry." My Lily, torn apart. Buddy, our loving dog, used as live bait. My body trembled with pure, white-hot hatred. David walked in. Monica cried, "She tried to attack me!" "Why didn' t you just die in that park?" he snarled. "It would have made everything so much easier." The truth. No pretense. No grief. Just his selfish wish for my death. Eleanor entered, fussing over Monica, ignoring me. "You could have harmed my grandchild." I was surrounded: the perpetrator, the accomplice, the mastermind. All judging me. The last flicker of the woman I was died. "She won' t bother you again," David growled, leading Monica away. "The whole attack was to clear the way for you. For us. It' s tragic, it' s romantic. It' s perfect." He laid out the conspiracy like a corporate takeover. Lily' s death, a necessary plot point. My dismemberment, a convenient excuse. We were liquidated assets. A strange calm washed over me. The love was gone. The hurt transformed into something hard and sharp. He was my enemy. And I had to survive him. Monica, radiant in a new dress, taunted me. "A simple girl like me could give him the one thing you never could." I stared, my resolve firm. At Lily' s memorial, I sat numb in a wheelchair, a prop in David' s performance. In the town car home, the plan was in motion. The park ranger, already suspicious of David, had given me a burner phone. The car swerved, plunged into the ravine. Blackness. "Missing?" David roared at the scene, refusing to believe my body was gone. Days he searched, his voice raw. "She' s gone," Monica snapped, "We need to move on." "Get away from me!" he spat. Her cold cruelty finally disgusted him. The first crack. His paranoia spread. Monica, impatient, had bribed a guard to orchestrate the crash and invent an affair. "It was Monica!" the guard finally confessed. "The pregnancy... it' s fake!" David stood frozen. He had murdered his family for a lie. Eleanor slapped Monica. "You made us kill my granddaughter for nothing!" David, emotionless, ordered them taken to the hunting cabin. A death sentence. "Sarah knew!" Monica shrieked, dragged away. "She heard everything! She played you!" His show of grief, a mockery. The shame, a poison. He fell to his knees, utterly broken. He offered millions, haunted. "Please, just one more day," he' d beg, clutching Lily' s photo. But I was alive. Pulled from the wreck by a kind RV couple, three years passed in quiet peace, my past a blank. They called me Jane. Then, in Arizona, he walked in. Three years had ravaged him. Our eyes met. A lightning strike. The dogs, Lily' s face, the ashes, Monica' s taunts-all flooded back. I nearly collapsed. "Sarah?" he breathed, disbelief, hope, horror on his face. "You' re alive." I recoiled. "Don' t you touch me." "I' m so sorry," he stammered, tears in his eyes. "I was a monster." "You murdered our daughter," I said, cold. "You had my leg cut off. You are just evil." Jack, my new father, stepped in. "You need to leave." David fell to his knees. "Please, forgive me!" He held a letter opener to his leg. "A leg for a leg!" "You want to make it up to me? You can' t," I said. "Your punishment, David, is to live, every single day, with the knowledge of what you did. You will never be forgiven." I turned, walked away with Jack, and never saw him again. Months later, David Miller, disgraced CEO, drove off the same ravine. No escape. His company collapsed. Karma. I continued my life on the road. Sometimes, in the desert sunset, I feel Lily' s warm presence. She' s free. And so am I. The world is vast, and I am ready.

Crime Family Thriller Betrayal Revenge

Chapter 10

11-04 02:33

Introduction

The dust and the agony were my first sensations-my right leg a grinding hell, Lily clutched tight against my chest as growls surrounded us.

Then, the thumping. A helicopter, David' s face. He knelt, his suit dirty, grief etched on his face as he saw our daughter, limp in my arms.

I woke to the sterile hospital, a dull throb where my leg had been. And then, I heard voices from the hall-David and his mother.

"The leg is gone," David said, his voice cold, stripped of sorrow. "It' s cleaner this way. She' ll live."

"It solves the problem," his mother, Eleanor, agreed, devoid of sorrow. "The inheritance is secure."

My blood ran cold as I heard David whisper the chilling truth: "I needed a legitimate reason to get rid of Sarah. Her injury allows me to bring Monica into the picture, making everything look legitimate."

Monica, his new assistant? His fiancée?

"And the girl?" Eleanor' s voice was even colder.

"Lily was just collateral damage. Honestly, it' s for the best. Now, it' s just Monica' s child to think about."

My heart monitor screamed. The man who had sobbed over our daughter, who had held my hand, had orchestrated this. He had fed us to those dogs.

Lily was my world, sacrificed for money. The love, the trust, the family-all shattered. He hadn' t rescued me; he had inspected his work.

The matriarch confirmed it: "No one will question it." This was their plan. My daughter' s death, a business solution. I was utterly alone, surrounded by monsters.

Eleanor brought Monica, who beamed with practiced pity. Then David announced the final blow: "She' s pregnant."

An heir. My Lily, extinguished to make way for this celebration.

A raw sound tore from my throat. David rushed to me, feigning concern, reaching out. I flinched from his fire-like touch.

"I want to see her," I rasped, my voice a dry whisper.

"Lily," I choked out. "I want to see my baby."

He hesitated, then gave in, still playing the doting husband. My agreement wasn' t a victory; it was another move in his sick game. But I needed to see my girl.

The next morning, he brought a small wooden box. "This is her," he said. I clutched it, raw sobs tearing through me. He feigned sorrow, but I knew.

Eleanor had chosen the park, a remote spot. A trap. I remembered the glint of binoculars on the ridge-He had watched. He hadn' t been in a board meeting.

He was my enemy. And I had to survive him.

Monica returned, carrying soup, her voice dripping with false care. She watched David fuss over her, then poured the soup down the sink.

"You don' t really think he wants you to recover, do you?" she purred, stripping away her mask. "Your little 'injury' ... he made sure saving it wasn' t a priority."

"What are you talking about?" I whispered.

She ripped back the blanket. Where my leg should have been, there was only empty space, bandaged tightly. He hadn' t just let me get injured; he' d had it removed. He had dismembered me.

"It' s just some dog' s ashes," Monica scoffed, gesturing to the box. "There is no body. The dogs he trained... they were very hungry."

My Lily, torn apart. Buddy, our loving dog, used as live bait.

My body trembled with pure, white-hot hatred. David walked in. Monica cried, "She tried to attack me!"

"Why didn' t you just die in that park?" he snarled. "It would have made everything so much easier."

The truth. No pretense. No grief. Just his selfish wish for my death.

Eleanor entered, fussing over Monica, ignoring me. "You could have harmed my grandchild."

I was surrounded: the perpetrator, the accomplice, the mastermind. All judging me. The last flicker of the woman I was died.

"She won' t bother you again," David growled, leading Monica away. "The whole attack was to clear the way for you. For us. It' s tragic, it' s romantic. It' s perfect."

He laid out the conspiracy like a corporate takeover. Lily' s death, a necessary plot point. My dismemberment, a convenient excuse.

We were liquidated assets. A strange calm washed over me. The love was gone. The hurt transformed into something hard and sharp. He was my enemy. And I had to survive him.

Monica, radiant in a new dress, taunted me. "A simple girl like me could give him the one thing you never could." I stared, my resolve firm.

At Lily' s memorial, I sat numb in a wheelchair, a prop in David' s performance. In the town car home, the plan was in motion. The park ranger, already suspicious of David, had given me a burner phone.

The car swerved, plunged into the ravine. Blackness.

"Missing?" David roared at the scene, refusing to believe my body was gone. Days he searched, his voice raw.

"She' s gone," Monica snapped, "We need to move on."

"Get away from me!" he spat. Her cold cruelty finally disgusted him. The first crack.

His paranoia spread. Monica, impatient, had bribed a guard to orchestrate the crash and invent an affair.

"It was Monica!" the guard finally confessed. "The pregnancy... it' s fake!"

David stood frozen. He had murdered his family for a lie.

Eleanor slapped Monica. "You made us kill my granddaughter for nothing!"

David, emotionless, ordered them taken to the hunting cabin. A death sentence.

"Sarah knew!" Monica shrieked, dragged away. "She heard everything! She played you!"

His show of grief, a mockery. The shame, a poison. He fell to his knees, utterly broken. He offered millions, haunted. "Please, just one more day," he' d beg, clutching Lily' s photo.

But I was alive.

Pulled from the wreck by a kind RV couple, three years passed in quiet peace, my past a blank. They called me Jane.

Then, in Arizona, he walked in. Three years had ravaged him.

Our eyes met. A lightning strike. The dogs, Lily' s face, the ashes, Monica' s taunts-all flooded back. I nearly collapsed.

"Sarah?" he breathed, disbelief, hope, horror on his face. "You' re alive."

I recoiled. "Don' t you touch me."

"I' m so sorry," he stammered, tears in his eyes. "I was a monster."

"You murdered our daughter," I said, cold. "You had my leg cut off. You are just evil."

Jack, my new father, stepped in. "You need to leave."

David fell to his knees. "Please, forgive me!" He held a letter opener to his leg. "A leg for a leg!"

"You want to make it up to me? You can' t," I said. "Your punishment, David, is to live, every single day, with the knowledge of what you did. You will never be forgiven."

I turned, walked away with Jack, and never saw him again.

Months later, David Miller, disgraced CEO, drove off the same ravine. No escape. His company collapsed. Karma.

I continued my life on the road. Sometimes, in the desert sunset, I feel Lily' s warm presence. She' s free. And so am I. The world is vast, and I am ready.