The Man She Threw Away

The Man She Threw Away

Leo Fairchild

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"I'll do it," I told my father, agreeing to an arranged marriage to save our failing family business. It was a lifeline. But then my mother mentioned Chloe, and the truth, raw and ugly, began to unravel: my five-year relationship, the company we built together, everything was a lie. I had given up my dream career, poured my savings and energy into "O'Connell & Davis Design" for a love I thought was real. But Chloe had always seen me as a stand-in, a "successful and stable" version of her childhood crush, Noah Vance. I discovered their secret chats, their intimate moments, and the chilling realization that my entire existence in her life had been a performance. Even my grandmother's redesigned engagement ring, a symbol of my intent, was just another prop in her twisted game. She brazenly claimed it as hers, desperate to maintain her illusion. The depth of her betrayal, the calculated deceit, left me hollow. My love, my sacrifices, our shared future-all reduced to a cruel joke. In the face of her desperate attempts to reel me back in-her feigned distress for Noah, her oblivious claims of love-I cut all ties, walked away from our shared life, and embraced a future with the formidable Isabella Rossi, a woman who had seen my worth all along.

Introduction

"I'll do it," I told my father, agreeing to an arranged marriage to save our failing family business. It was a lifeline.

But then my mother mentioned Chloe, and the truth, raw and ugly, began to unravel: my five-year relationship, the company we built together, everything was a lie.

I had given up my dream career, poured my savings and energy into "O'Connell & Davis Design" for a love I thought was real. But Chloe had always seen me as a stand-in, a "successful and stable" version of her childhood crush, Noah Vance. I discovered their secret chats, their intimate moments, and the chilling realization that my entire existence in her life had been a performance.

Even my grandmother's redesigned engagement ring, a symbol of my intent, was just another prop in her twisted game. She brazenly claimed it as hers, desperate to maintain her illusion.

The depth of her betrayal, the calculated deceit, left me hollow. My love, my sacrifices, our shared future-all reduced to a cruel joke.

In the face of her desperate attempts to reel me back in-her feigned distress for Noah, her oblivious claims of love-I cut all ties, walked away from our shared life, and embraced a future with the formidable Isabella Rossi, a woman who had seen my worth all along.

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I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.

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