The Perfect Lie: A Wife's Awakening

The Perfect Lie: A Wife's Awakening

Gavin

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My marriage to Liam was supposed to be a dream, a glossy magazine cover come to life. He was the charming tech CEO, I, the brilliant data scientist. But behind the facade of our perfect life, three years passed without him ever touching me, a supposed victim of extreme OCD. Then, at his company gala, a spilled champagne tray revealed the monstrous truth: he didn' t pull me to safety. He shoved me. My head hit the marble, and as I lay dazed, he frantically wiped a champagne drop from his suit, feigning concern that painted him a tortured husband, not the brutal one. The real horror unfolded when I woke, drugged and paralyzed, to his casual laughter just outside the door. He hadn' t panicked; he' d deliberately pushed me. And then, the names: Jake, Ben, and finally, Chloe-my best friend. "Why do you think I married Ava in the first place? It' s the only way to stay in Chloe' s orbit." Every lie, every excuse, every moment of his supposed suffering, shattered into dust. I wasn't his wife; I was a pawn in his sick game, drugged and left vulnerable for his friends' crude "entertainment." How could I have been so blind, so naive, to give my heart to a monster who used me for sport? The sheer audacity, the cold calculation of it all, burned through me. I had to escape this gilded cage, expose the man who had turned my life into a cruel joke. I needed to reclaim my life, and I knew exactly how to dismantle his.

Introduction

My marriage to Liam was supposed to be a dream, a glossy magazine cover come to life.

He was the charming tech CEO, I, the brilliant data scientist.

But behind the facade of our perfect life, three years passed without him ever touching me, a supposed victim of extreme OCD.

Then, at his company gala, a spilled champagne tray revealed the monstrous truth: he didn' t pull me to safety.

He shoved me.

My head hit the marble, and as I lay dazed, he frantically wiped a champagne drop from his suit, feigning concern that painted him a tortured husband, not the brutal one.

The real horror unfolded when I woke, drugged and paralyzed, to his casual laughter just outside the door.

He hadn' t panicked; he' d deliberately pushed me.

And then, the names: Jake, Ben, and finally, Chloe-my best friend.

"Why do you think I married Ava in the first place? It' s the only way to stay in Chloe' s orbit."

Every lie, every excuse, every moment of his supposed suffering, shattered into dust.

I wasn't his wife; I was a pawn in his sick game, drugged and left vulnerable for his friends' crude "entertainment."

How could I have been so blind, so naive, to give my heart to a monster who used me for sport?

The sheer audacity, the cold calculation of it all, burned through me.

I had to escape this gilded cage, expose the man who had turned my life into a cruel joke.

I needed to reclaim my life, and I knew exactly how to dismantle his.

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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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