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Winning a prestigious photography scholarship to New York City felt like my ticket to a new life, a future beyond the gilded cage of the Davenport mansion and my secret, forbidden love for my stepbrother, Ethan. Our intimate, years-long affair had been my most cherished secret, a tender rebellion. But then I overheard him, laughing. Our "romance" was nothing but a calculated game, a twisted revenge plot against my mother, designed to shatter her by utterly destroying my heart. My world crumbled, replaced by a chilling realization. The man I truly loved continued his sickening charade, playing the doting lover, even as his 'intended wife,' Chloe, openly taunted me, flaunting her knowledge of his cruel charade. Then came the ultimate, public humiliation: Chloe deliberately destroyed my deceased father's ashes, and Ethan, the supposed love of my life, coldly sided with her, accusing me instead. My heart didn't break; it simply emptied, leaving behind a cold, hard resolve where love once resided. How could I have been so blind, so used, so utterly betrayed by the one person I had dared to love, reduced to a disposable pawn in his hateful vendetta? Determined to sever every poisonous tie and leave no lingering debt, I meticulously amassed every penny to repay my stepfather. I systematically erased every trace of our shared past, and orchestrated a final, dramatic exit, leaving Ethan a devastating breakup note and the full repayment on his desk. As I finally boarded my flight for New York, I knew I was flying towards a new life, leaving behind the ashes of a love I was finally free from.