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Betrayed Heart, Shattered Life

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 642    |    Released on: 04/07/2025

iller

ies. She didn't call it a curse or

er potter's wheel. "We see the patterns. When we love, our love builds thin

ho created things from their soul. We built homes that felt like sanctuaries and gardens that healed the grieving. My

with his drive, his energy that was so different from the quiet introspection of my family. I chose his world. I poured my love, m

and where we would build our first home. I had

ed, holding me close. "A place where the world

ten. A promise he had burned to th

ll weight of my grandmother's words. The balance had been broken

zed again. I

is destroyed. He is not the man

n," I said, my voice flat. "

. "We must arrange the funeral. Please, don't leav

me tethered to their collapsing world. He was afraid. Not just

in my mind with crystalline clarity. "Ethan was a Miller. He will

t burial in the cold, hard ground. It was about release.

hen I am taking him home. To the coast. Where m

k. Not for me. For Ethan. His favorite worn sketchbook. The small clay bird he made for me when he was

I was getting it as far away from the poison of the Stone family as I possibly could. The curse Arthur spoke of wasn't so

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Betrayed Heart, Shattered Life
Betrayed Heart, Shattered Life
“My life, once a vibrant canvas of architectural dreams, had become a masterpiece of quiet devotion to my husband, David, and our son, Ethan. Then came Victoria Chase, David' s sleek, ambitious business partner, and her "Aura" brand-a wellness empire built on hollow promises. Suddenly, my gifted ten-year-old, Ethan, whose art was his very soul, was deemed a "liability," his vibrant oil-and-turpentine world clashing with Victoria' s sterile, minimalist vision. David, blinded by ambition and Victoria' s deceptive charm, whisked Ethan away to a mysterious "Pathways Institute" – a place Victoria touted as "creative re-education" but which sent a chill down my spine. "They help children channel their talents into more constructive, marketable, and socially acceptable forms," he' d said, a chilling echo of parental consent disguising something far more sinister. My desperate pleas, my warnings of psychological damage, were met with David' s contempt: "You, with your failed architecture career and your outdated, sentimental ideas about 'art' ... You don' t get a vote." Just two weeks later, the phone call came, flat and devoid of emotion: "Ma'am, there's been an incident. He's gone. A massive cerebral hemorrhage." While David and Victoria celebrated their launch on a lavish yacht, popping champagne and basking in their "perfect success," my brilliant, hopeful boy lay in a cold morgue. My world shattered, then coalesced into a razor-sharp fury as I called David, his party' s laughter a grotesque backdrop to my guttural announcement: "Ethan is dead. While you were popping champagne with your mistress." I declared total war upon his very existence: "This is not just me leaving you, David. This is me erasing you... You have no son. You have nothing. You lost it all today. I hope your brand was worth it." The "Miller women," my grandmother used to say, "feel things deeper... When we are betrayed, the world feels it." Now, the world would indeed feel the shattering of my heart, and the ancient knowing awakened within me, ready to reclaim what was mine and unleash the cosmic balance they had so carelessly broken.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10