Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."
View MoreAfter that day, I stayed close to my family, soaking in the simple, everyday moments that made up their lives. Dad used the money Susanna had left behind to rebuild the company, and before long, the crew had their jobs back. Mom spent her days in the park, painting alongside Yvan, who was slowly starting to speak. It was just a few words, but it was progress. Every evening, dad would finish work and come pick them up, and we would all head home for dinner together. Life was not extravagant, but it was a steady, warm kind of happiness, the type that was fulfilling and worth experiencing. I thought the past had finally faded, that the storm had passed. Then, the last bit of news about Susanna came in the form of a video that went viral. It started with her, on a livestream, dragging a drunken York into the passenger seat of her car. She was calm—eerily calm—as she drove them toward the cliffs by the sea. The setting sun cast long shadows, and her voice, smooth and steady, cut thr
The wedding was a complete disaster. York was dragged away by his father and was forced to apologize for everything as the fallout grew. The evidence from the anonymous tip was ironclad—there was no escaping the truth this time. It was not just about York's dirty tricks—kidnapping, pushing Susanna's father until his death, and paying off a truck driver to fake a DUI and take me out. The leak exposed even more—rich kids involved in horrific crimes like hurting children and locking up women like they were toys. The stock market crashed for these families, and the internet exploded with outrage. However, they had too much influence, and just as quickly as the storm hit, it began to fade. Their names no longer appeared in headlines. Even York got off easy. A few questions, a slap on the wrist, and then it was back to business as usual. And somehow, Susanna bought it—she believed the lie that York had been framed by some rival. They went right back to their picture-perfect life, actin
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, and I noticed why—the video playing at York and Susanna's wedding had taken a sharp turn. Gone were the rehearsed, sugary moments of their "love story". Now, the screen showed chat logs, the kind of sleazy back-and-forth between Aventon City's elite young men. [Last night, that kid just wouldn't stop crying, then bam, he was gone.] [Kids? Nah, women are way more fun. This new one I got? Killer body, wild as hell.] [Isn't that what your basement's for? How long are you keeping her locked up this time?] [You had the last one for what, six months? Is she still causing you trouble?] [Don't remind me. She killed herself the minute I let her go.] [And York, still after that ice queen? How long's it been?] [I caught her, didn't I? Took some time, but now, she's mine. You guys give me too much credit. All I did was be there when she had no one else. Now, Susanna's hooked.[If you want the playbook, just take out the guys in her life. Make them hi
I watched my family lay on the ground, beaten and broken. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. They had been dragged here like animals, and their wounds were left untreated—all because of me. If I hadn't messed up or let things spiral, Susanna would not be out for blood. What could I do now, though? I was just a ghost, a shadow. I was powerless to even call for help. Then, by some stroke of luck, a car pulled up. A few of the company's workers stepped out, hobbling toward us. Some were missing an arm, others a leg, but they moved with determination and worked together to load my injured family into the car. It wasn't glamorous, but it got them out of there, fast. They were taking them to get real help. My dad's leg, my brother's fingers—they were saved, thanks to the quick action of the workers. And the doctors who tended to them were top-notch specialists who happened to be in town for a medical conference. It felt like a miracle. Even mom was soothed, her mind calmed by the
"Dig it up!" Susanna's voice was cold, resolute. She did not believe dad's words, and nothing short of proof would stop her. Dad, drained and beaten, tried to stop her with what little strength he had left, but the bodyguards shoved him to the ground and pinned him down. Tears welled up in his eyes as he cried out helplessly, "Please, Susanna. Don't do this. Let Matthew rest in peace." His voice cracked with his pleas, but they fell on deaf ears. Inside, I felt nothing. Not surprise, not anger. I had seen how far Susanna had gone—this was just another step in her brutal revenge. If she could do this to my family, there was nothing she would not do. As the grave was unearthed, the foul stench of decay hit the air. My body was far gone, decomposed beyond recognition. Susanna, covering her nose, took one look and froze. Even after all those years, my bones lay broken, but there was still enough of me left to make out my face. On my finger, barely holding its shape, was the simpl
Dad's face went pale, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Matthew would never hurt your dad. He went to the hospital, yes, but only to visit him. Nothing more." "Seriously?" York scoffed, a smug grin spreading across his face as he pulled out his so-called proof—a voice recording. "You're still going to deny it with all this proof staring you in the face?" The audio crackled to life. Sure enough, it was my voice—no denying that. York had twisted it beyond recognition though, cutting and splicing the conversation until it sounded like I had sold out for cash. The recording made it seem like I had arranged for some rich guy to take Susanna's dad's place for a kidney donation and then had Susanna kidnapped so that she could not see her dad one last time. In the chaos, York's men stirred up trouble at the hospital, telling Susanna's dad that he was holding her back. They claimed she would be married to me already if it weren't for him. To really nail it, they had a bank transfer from an a
Susanna's face twisted with rage. She raised her hand, ready to strike dad, but he did not flinch. His voice, though pained, was steady as he continued, "Seven years ago, when Matthew heard you were leaving, he tried to make it to the airport to see you one last time. But fate had other plans—a drunk driver in a speeding truck left him no way to escape." I still remember the day I died. I had just found out about Susanna's flight details. Despite everything, I needed to see her one last time, just to catch a glimpse. I told myself I would not approach her and would not even let her see me. It was just for closure. Fate had other plans, though. A truck lost control, smashing through the guardrail as it headed right for me. The pain hit like a freight train—my body felt like it was tearing apart, my organs rupturing. I knew it was the end. In the hospital, as I lay dying with my parents by my side, I confessed the truth about the scheme York and I had concocted. "If Susanna ever
The memory faded, slipping away like smoke as I was pulled back to the present, where the real nightmare was unfolding in front of me. Just then, the door slammed open, jolting me fully back to reality. The room seemed to freeze as York shoved my mother through the door, his grin dripping with malicious satisfaction. I caught a glimpse of the ring on his finger—identical to the one Susanna wore. A bitter laugh escaped me. So, they were a pair now. Susanna was marrying York. "Susanna, here's the last one from their family. I've brought her here," York said, pride laced in every word. His eyes gleamed with twisted pleasure. Seven years ago, my gruesome death broke my mother, driving her into the grip of Alzheimer's. I had been watching her slip in and out of clarity over the years, torn apart by guilt and sorrow. Sometimes, she did not even remember my name; other times, she cried for me like I had just died. Susanna's gaze flicked toward them, her expression curling into disgu
That was when York Smith swooped in, showering Susanna with everything his wealth could buy—luxury cars, bouquets of roses, glittering necklaces. Money flowed like water for him, and he made sure everyone saw it. Susanna was not impressed by the flashy displays, though. She had her dignity. She was not the kind of woman to sell her soul for cash. What mattered most was that she was deeply in love with me back then. York, frustrated and spurned, turned his sights on me. That was when I found out the truth—he was behind my family's downfall. Rage boiled inside me, and I was ready to tear him apart. However, before I could even land a punch, his bodyguard took me down with a single blow, leaving me groaning on the floor. York stood over me, his smug grin like a knife twisting in my gut. "Susanna loves you, doesn't she?" he taunted. "And you love her. But what's that love really worth?" He crouched down, his voice dropping to a whisper that chilled me. "Her dad's dying, Matthew.
In dad's office, he was pinned down by a wall of muscle. Susanna Johnson's bodyguards held him in place like he was nothing. His hair, once dark, was now white as snow. He shook with the weight of his fury, but age had softened his voice. He tried to stay calm, his words low, almost pleading. "Susanna, you've already destroyed everything I've worked for. My company's gone. You've ruined it. Isn't that enough? Haven't you had your revenge?" He forced a shaky breath. "Think back to when we were on good terms..." Susanna rose slowly from the couch, her heels clicking against the floor. She kicked dad hard, sending him sprawling before tossing a wedding invitation at him with a flick of her manicured fingers. "Good terms? Drag Matthew out here, make him get on his knees at my wedding and beg for forgiveness in front of everyone, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you off the hook." Guilt tore at me as I watched my father suffer, knowing I had abandoned him to face this horror. But Susan...
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