img He Chose The Dog; I Chose Empire  /  Chapter 3 | 21.43%
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Chapter 3

Word Count: 1106    |    Released on: 18/11/2025

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igital realm. I pulled out my phone, my fingers fumbling as I navigated to Carly Carlson' s social media. There it was: a cascade of triumphant posts. Gushing ca

o longer held any meaning. It was an anniversary, a day we had once marked with promises and whispers of forever. My fingers hesitated for a moment, then pressed the final d

iar yet alien. The familiar scent of my own home, the subtle notes of my custom-blended cedar and bergamot air freshene

r, were replaced by abstract, garish canvases I' d never seen. The plush, neutral-toned furniture was gone, swapped for sleek, modern

grew stronger, almost unbearable. It was Carly's signature fragrance, "Desert Bloom." My scent. Tw

magazines. Beside it, a half-empty glass of wine, two lip prints clearly visible. One, a deep crimson. The ot

r fingers intertwined. It wasn't a recent photo. It was old, faded, a relic from a time before me, before "Ethereal Bloom." A time when their conne

chest, trying to still the frantic pounding of my heart. The air felt thick, suffocating. My home, my love, my life-a

throat, raw and agonizing. My body shook uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face, hot and endless. The sobs were silent, desperate, born

trayers, reveling in their stolen happiness, in my stolen life. My heart leaped into my throat, a primal surge of fear. Then, a cold, ha

ed into fists, my knuckles white. Blake and Carly stood in the living room, a picture of do

ght thread of annoyance woven through

growl, barely recognizable to my own ears. "Blake, w

a while. She's just moved to the city. Her place isn't ready yet." He waved a dis

ke that. Blake is just being so sweet, letting me crash here until my new penthouse is ready."

She's been sending my formulas to you for three years, all while you had me locked away in Montana, thinking yo

riend, a colleague. You've been through a lot. You're imagining things." His words

ing away at my sense of reality. But not anymore. Not after what I'd heard. The man standing before me

the door, the air in this house suddenly too thi

It was a reflex, an ingrained obedience from years of isolation and manufactured depende

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