When Love Died, Freedom Began

My family's tech company, ChenTech, was bleeding out, and Dad, ever the optimist, clung to an email from Stryker Innovations: an invitation to their "Next Generation Leaders Program." I was supposed to be our savior, a burnt-out junior software developer thrown into the corporate lion's den. I hated it, but Dad's desperate hope was a heavy chain around my neck. The orientation was chillingly efficient. Damien Stryker, the CEO, radiated an unnerving stillness. He immediately dismissed anyone who' d used clichéd motivational posters. My blood ran cold, but my minimalist presentation was safe. Then, a sharp, sarcastic thought cut through my anxiety: What a certifiable lunatic. His gaze snapped up, piercing the room, locking onto me. He knew. Instead of being dismissed, I was "promoted." Mr. Alistair Finch, Stryker' s chief of staff, informed me I was to be Damien's personal project assistant. My days became a bizarre loop of meticulously crafting his Colombian coffee (192 degrees, counter-clockwise stir) and organizing impossibly misfiled archives. Every mental groan, every cynical observation I made, he' d subtly echo or correct with a smirk I could almost feel. It felt less like a job, more like a cruel psychological experiment. How could he know? The mind-reading was infuriating, humiliating. This man, who saw right through my carefully constructed facade, seemed to deliberately play with my thoughts, making me feel like a trapped rat. Was he just an eccentric genius, or something far more sinister? Was I truly losing my mind? But then I started to notice: the companies he acquired often improved, employees thrived. The corporate wolf wasn't quite what he seemed. When his own stepmother, Eleanor, tried to weaponize me for corporate espionage, her veiled threats echoing his mind games, I realized the real danger wasn' t Damien. It was time to stop being a victim in this psychological maze and start fighting back.

For a decade, I played the role of Eleanor Vance, Senator Alistair Hayes' s wife. I endured his icy indifference and his stepdaughter Brittany' s cruelties, clinging to the hope of a stable home for my daughter, Clara. But at the annual charity gala, the illusion violently shattered. Brittany, with a triumph in her eyes, forced me into her deceased mother' s gown, then publicly humiliated me by crushing a cherished locket I' d made for her with my own hands. Alistair, far from defending me, stood by, his cold gaze stripping me bare, blaming me. He had dangled Clara' s return as bait for my compliance, and now his lie was exposed, alongside my public shame. My world, built on fragile hopes, crumbled. I was nothing but an outsider, always second best to a ghost. The raw injustice, the betrayal, and the horrifying truth of their manipulation ignited a quiet, chilling rage within me. My efforts, my sacrifices, all for nothing. So when Alistair, eager to control the narrative, suggested I 'disappear' for a 'break' at the remote family cabin, I agreed. He thought I'd break and crawl back. He didn't know Eleanor Hayes was already gone.

My twin sister, Olivia, lay terrifyingly still in a hospital bed, her pale face a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets. An IV dripped fluid into her arm, and chillingly, thick bandages covered her wrists, a silent testament to her desperate act. She had tried to end her life, driven to the brink by the relentless, sophisticated cruelty of Brittany and her followers at Northwood High School. Their audacious arrival at the hospital, complete with smirks and chilling taunts, twisted the knife deeper into our family' s raw wound. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, stood helpless, their attempts to rid us of the tormentors dismissed with scornful indifference. When the police finally arrived, their response was infuriatingly inadequate: a dismissive "warning" for minors, prioritizing Brittany' s influential family over Olivia' s shattered life. Then, the ultimate humiliation struck: a raw, brutal video of Olivia's locker room torment, her clothes torn and her pleas mocked by Brittany's cruel laughter, exploded across social media. My fragile sister, seeing it, whispered that she was "so weak," her spirit visibly drained from her eyes. A mere warning for such psychological torture, for driving my twin to attempt suicide, was a grotesque joke in their broken system. But a familiar darkness, a dormant, predatory instinct I had suppressed for years for Olivia' s sake, began to stir within me. Olivia had always been my anchor, soothing this other side, but now, she was the very reason to unleash it. That night, I made a decision that would redefine everything: I was going to Northwood High. They thought they knew Olivia Peterson – but they had no idea who was truly coming for them. They had broken my other half; I would break them in return, and the Peterson family had unique ways of ensuring justice.

My wife, Isabella, was my entire world. I' d given her my kidney, saved her life, sacrificing my burgeoning career as a concert pianist without a second thought. Our love was my masterpiece. But after a minor car crash, she woke up claiming amnesia, her eyes hollow, devoid of any recognition for her husband. My place was immediately usurped by Julian, her manipulative childhood friend, and I became nothing but a nuisance. At a dinner he hosted, with a chilling smirk, Isabella coerced me, a man with a life-threatening peanut allergy, into eating poisoned food. As my body convulsed and I choked for air, she stood by, watching me die on the restaurant floor, her laughter mingling with Julian's as I slipped into darkness. As a helpless ghost, my torment only deepened. I witnessed her utter callousness towards my corpse, then Julian' s brutal physical assault and cold-blooded deception of Eleanor, my beloved mother-in-law, the only soul who fought for me. The pain of betrayal was eclipsed only by profound confusion: how could the woman I saved become such a monster? Then, a shocking truth emerged from hospital security footage: Isabella' s amnesia was a calculating lie, and Julian was a murderer, caught red-handed. An icy, terrifying resolve ignited in her eyes, transforming her. Now, a merciless game of vengeance begins, and Julian, the architect of our collective ruin, is about to face a reckoning far worse than death.

Thanksgiving weekend was just around the corner, and as an intern ranger, I was preparing for what my supervisor, Mark Thorne, called a "mandatory exploratory survey" to Devil's Gulch. But this seemingly routine assignment was a meticulously planned death trap, set by the man I worked for and the sister I loved. The rock bit into my back, a sharp pain, then nothing as my climbing rope went slack, sabotaged, as I plummeted into the cold darkness of the crevasse. Mark's chilling, empty smile was the last thing I saw above me on the narrow ledge, my sister Emily looking away, silent, complicit, as I fought for air. Killed. By my own supervisor and the only family I had left, betrayed for reasons I couldn't comprehend as my life vanished in an instant. Then I jolted awake, not in a freezing abyss, but in my familiar bunk, the comforting scent of pine from my cheap park-issued mattress filling the air. My heart hammered against my ribs as I touched my face, my arms, realizing there were no broken bones, no blood. The calendar on the wall screamed at me: three days before that fateful Thanksgiving trip to Devil's Gulch. I was alive. It was a memory, vivid, terrifying, but now it was also a warning. A second chance. This time, I wouldn't be the naive one; I would protect myself first, and if I could, protect my sister from him and from herself. I could still stop this. And I would.

My carefully constructed world was perfect, the epitome of the American dream. My son, Sam, was graduating high school, Yale-bound, smart, kind-the culmination of everything I' d worked for. Surrounded by loved ones in our sprawling Hamptons-esque garden, I handed him a substantial stock trust from his late father, a solid foundation for his brilliant future. Then, Darlene Pickett, our former housekeeper, burst through the wrought-iron gates, her face contorted with grotesque rage. She dragged a small, disheveled boy beside her, pointing a trembling finger at my son. "He's not Eleanor's son!" she shrieked for everyone to hear. "He's mine! And this," she thrust the other boy forward, "this is Daniel Ainsworth! Your real son, Eleanor! I swapped them eighteen years ago, in that hospital!" A collective gasp echoed across the stunned crowd as my beautiful day-and carefully curated life-shattered. But the horror deepened as Darlene, her husband, and even her daughter openly gloated about the years of systematic neglect and brutal abuse they'd inflicted on Danny, the boy they thought was mine, detailing every scar and broken bone with chilling pride. My heart clenched, not in fear of public ruin, but at the raw depravity laid bare. Sam, bewildered and utterly disgusted, turned to me, his eyes pleading, "Mom? What are they talking about?" He couldn't fathom such cruelty, begging me to say it wasn't true, that they were all insane. They demanded DNA tests to prove their twisted, greedy claim. And I, with an icy calm that surprised even me, simply replied, "Very well. We'll arrange for them immediately." Because what they didn't-couldn't-know was that I had been waiting patiently for this exact moment for eighteen long years.

Ashley is burned alive by her half-sister, but she gets a second chance to undo all of her past. She was reborn ten years ago, and this time she is determined to find a strong backer for herself to take revenge. "I'll take revenge for everything you've done, and I'll make you all suffer!" Author's Note: This story was originally published under the same title on another platform. This version has been fully revised to improve grammar, clarity, and overall reading flow, but the plot remains unchanged. It is now released under a non-exclusive contract. Thank you for reading and supporting this refined edition!

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

Scarlett was left betrayed and broken beyond repair when her best friend Megan set her up with the male escort who stole her virginity...Or at least, that's what she thought he was. There was something odd about the strong and strikingly beautiful man that she spent a night with. Despite the pure hatred she felt for him, the deals he ended up offering wasn't one she could refuse. Scarlett always thought she'd marry her soulmate but turns out, that won't be the case for her. But could her mysterious husband make his way through her broken heart and fix it? It's hard to imagine but love has funny ways to manifest in places where it's least expected....

On the day of their wedding anniversary, Joshua's mistress drugged Alicia, and she ended up in a stranger's bed. In one night, Alicia lost her innocence, while Joshua's mistress carried his child in her womb. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alicia demanded a divorce, but Joshua saw it as yet another tantrum. When they finally parted ways, she went on to become a renowned artist, sought out and admired by everyone. Consumed by regret, Joshua darkened her doorstep in hopes of reconciliation, only to find her in the arms of a powerful tycoon. "Say hello to your sister-in-law."

Lucia Balstone thought she had chosen the right man to spend the rest of her life with, but he was the one who ended her life. Their ten-year marriage seemed like a joke when her husband stabbed her with a dagger. Fortunately, God is never blind to people's tears. Lucia got a second chance. She was reborn at the age of 22, before all the terrible things had happened. This time, she was determined to avenge herself and let those who hurt her pay! She made an elaborate list of her goals, and the first thing on her list was to marry her ex-husband's enemy, Alonso Callen!

PERMISSION IS TAKEN FRIM THE ORIGINAL, BE WARNED!! Do you believe in Myths? Just when she thinks it can't get any worse, it does. Lucy lost everything four years ago in a rogue attack. She's been abused, starved, rejected, and broken. As her eighteenth birthday approaches, strange things start to happen, things that only happen once every century. She finds friendship in the most unlikely place and escapes to find her true self with the help of the most dangerous Alpha. Warning: This werewolf trilogy is not intended for anyone under the age of 18 or anyone who doesn't enjoy a good spanking. It will take you on adventures around the world, make you laugh, fall in love, crush your heart and possibly leave you drooling.