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For five years, my life was Liam Vance, the visionary I helped build an empire with, sketching user interfaces on napkins and designing the very buildings that housed his dreams. Then he brought Chloe Davis home, an aspiring influencer all wide eyes and soft smiles, and my world started to crack. He began showering her with affection, calling her "pure," while subtly eroding my confidence, telling me I was "too ambitious," "like a shark." The criticism was a constant hum, culminating in his promise to marry me "just as soon as you learn to be as sweet and compliant as Chloe." The humiliations started small, then grew brutal. I was forced to kneel and spoon-feed Chloe while our friends watched, locked in a freezing server room until I missed a career-defining project, and made a human target for a combat drone, all while his staff called her "Mrs. Vance." Each atrocity chipped away at me, symbolized by the architectural models he' d had custom-made for our future, each one now sinking into the river, a painful reminder of a lie. I had no choice but to endure, trapped by the scholarship he funded for my younger brother, Ethan, my only family, my only weakness. But when, at a public gala, he let his men strip me naked and throw me onto a stage while he proposed to Chloe, something inside me snapped. Then, there was Ethan. In a cold, glass-walled conference room, Liam, fueled by a possessive rage, pulled a gun and shot my innocent brother, killing the only family I had left. The world went silent, everything turning to dust, but in that void, a cold, sharp resolve began to crystalize. I burned the last model, a miniature wedding chapel, watched our future turn to ash, and finally, unequivocally, walked away, leaving him and five years of memories behind.