His Wife's Deadly Secret

His Wife's Deadly Secret

Gavin

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The emergency alert from my son Leo' s smartwatch vibrated against my wrist-SOS. I found him face down in the pool, still. My wife, Jessica, stood by the edge, phone in hand, a glass of wine beside her, looking utterly bored. "He' s just faking it again, Liam. He' s trying to get attention," she said, as I pulled Leo' s limp body from the water. My world shattered, and with it, a dam of forgotten memories broke. My name isn' t Liam Hayes; it' s Noah Miller. I' d been in an accident, given amnesia, and then reshaped through countless surgeries into Liam' s spitting image-Jessica' s dead fiancé. I had been nothing more than a replacement, a puppet in a life that wasn' t mine. To find out Liam wasn't even dead, that he was sleeping with my wife right under my nose? It was unbearable. Leo knew. He knew Liam wasn't his father. That's why he fell in the pool. He didn' t fall, he sacrificed himself to expose the truth. Jessica knew he was terrified of water. And she let him drown, to punish him for revealing her carefully constructed lie. While my son lay dying, Jessica and Liam were celebrating their anniversary, taking smiling photos for the social pages. The grief was suffocating, but a cold, hard rage solidified in my chest. I cradled my son' s lifeless body, pulling out my phone. My fingers trembled as I scrolled past Jessica' s name and stopped at Evelyn Reed, her mother. When she answered, I said, "Evelyn, this is Noah Miller. I remember everything. Leo is dead. And it' s time for me to leave." The party was over, and my vengeance was just beginning.

Introduction

The emergency alert from my son Leo' s smartwatch vibrated against my wrist-SOS.

I found him face down in the pool, still.

My wife, Jessica, stood by the edge, phone in hand, a glass of wine beside her, looking utterly bored.

"He' s just faking it again, Liam. He' s trying to get attention," she said, as I pulled Leo' s limp body from the water.

My world shattered, and with it, a dam of forgotten memories broke.

My name isn' t Liam Hayes; it' s Noah Miller. I' d been in an accident, given amnesia, and then reshaped through countless surgeries into Liam' s spitting image-Jessica' s dead fiancé.

I had been nothing more than a replacement, a puppet in a life that wasn' t mine. To find out Liam wasn't even dead, that he was sleeping with my wife right under my nose? It was unbearable.

Leo knew. He knew Liam wasn't his father. That's why he fell in the pool. He didn' t fall, he sacrificed himself to expose the truth.

Jessica knew he was terrified of water. And she let him drown, to punish him for revealing her carefully constructed lie.

While my son lay dying, Jessica and Liam were celebrating their anniversary, taking smiling photos for the social pages.

The grief was suffocating, but a cold, hard rage solidified in my chest.

I cradled my son' s lifeless body, pulling out my phone.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled past Jessica' s name and stopped at Evelyn Reed, her mother.

When she answered, I said, "Evelyn, this is Noah Miller. I remember everything. Leo is dead. And it' s time for me to leave."

The party was over, and my vengeance was just beginning.

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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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