The Abandoned Daughter's Price

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.

My wedding to Ethan, the man I’d loved for five years, was weeks away. Everything was set for our future, a beautifully planned life together. Then the call came: Ethan’s high school sweetheart, Chloe, was found with severe amnesia, still believing she was his girlfriend. Ethan postponed our wedding, asked me to pretend to be his brother Liam’s girlfriend, insisting it was "for Chloe’s sake." I endured quiet agony watching him relive their past, his every loving gesture now for her. Chloe’s Instagram became a public shrine to their "rekindled" love, #TrueLove emblazoned everywhere. I even found a groundbreaking clinic for Chloe, hoping for an end, but Ethan brushed it off. Then, I overheard him: I was just a "placeholder," a "good sport" who would wait, because I had "nowhere else to go." Five years of my life, my love, my loyalty, reduced to a disposable convenience. The cold, calculated betrayal punched the air from my lungs. He thought I was trapped, that he could use me at will, then return to me, expecting gratitude. Numb, I stumbled. And then, I met Liam, Ethan’s quiet brother. "I need to get married, Liam. To someone. Soon." The words escaped me. Liam, who had watched silently, responded: "What if I said I'd marry you, Ava? For real." A dangerous, desperate plan ignited within me, fueled by pain and a fierce desire for reckoning. "Alright, Liam," I declared, a new resolve hardening my voice. "But I have conditions: Ethan must be your Best Man, and he must give me away at the altar." The charade was about to begin, but now, it was on my terms. And Ethan had no idea the bride was truly me.

For five years, I was Mrs. Davenport, cleaning up after my husband's one-night stands and enduring his casual cruelty. Call it a gilded cage, but this mansion was my prison, bought by my sacrifice: I was the secret medical lifeline keeping him, Ethan Davenport, alive. Our cruel contract was nearing its end, just three months left. Then, Chloe, his perfect ex-girlfriend, waltzed back in. Her arrival wasn't a gentle reunion; it was a wrecking ball designed to finish what Ethan's neglect had started. She smeared my name, orchestrated a public humiliation, and then watched, smiling, as Ethan, fueled by rage and alcohol, dragged me to a damp, cold cellar. He tore apart my most sacred possession-my fiancé's diary-then brutally killed my loyal dog, Buddy, right before my eyes. As I bled, collapsing into unconsciousness, I heard his ex's venomous whisper: she'd had all my precious memories of him incinerated. They had taken everything. My dignity, my love, my last connection to a life I cherished. My heart was a hollowed-out space, suffocating under a mountain of grief and betrayal. How could a human being be so cruel, so blind, to the sacrifices I'd made to keep him alive? But on the day our notorious contract officially expired, I walked out. With nothing but the clothes on my back and a one-way ticket to a remote Pacific Northwest retreat, I finally chose myself. It was time to disappear, to burn away the past, and somehow, exist again.

I was Eleanor Baker, the architect who built the Harrington empire from the ground up, designed their iconic skyscrapers, and was destined to marry the heir, James. Then, on my 65th birthday, James dropped the bomb: he was changing his will, honoring his long-dead first love, Olivia. My life's work, my shares, everything was gone. The betrayal *killed* me. Only, I opened my eyes in the past. James was there, reborn too, his gaze already holding the cold disgust that would define our future. He still wanted Olivia, who was now alive. So I walked away, giving up everything, only to be ambushed by the press, publicly humiliated, and left bleeding on the street, my heart and my legacy shattered. How could a lifetime of devotion and building be erased in an instant? Could the man I once loved possibly be so cruel, even in a second chance at life? Was I destined to be nothing more than a discarded architect, overshadowed by a ghost? But just as I thought it was over, a stranger offered a chance. A visionary project, a new beginning, a path to reclaim my talent and build a future far beyond anything I'd ever imagined. This time, I'm building for myself.

My eyes snapped open in the blinding hospital light. A nurse murmured the date: July 15th, 2013. The number slammed into me. It couldn't be. That was ten years ago. Ten years before the crash that supposedly just happened. Ten years before I, Sarah Miller, endured a decade of quiet suffocation married to Ethan Hayes. In my real recent past, just before the crash, I'd discovered gut-wrenching betrayal: Ethan and Olivia Cartwright, his high-school flame, renewed vows in secret. While I was still his wife. The misery, the constant, gnawing neglect, Ethan's emotional energy poured into Olivia like water into sand—it all came rushing back. He had lived a double life, building a separate future with another woman while married to me. My spirit, a withered thing, had accepted it. Now, I was back. Before the suffering, before the constant, soul-crushing betrayal. A cruel irony: my alleged accident had sent me backward in time, to before the misery even began. The quiet misery was a screaming void. I just relived it, and realized I was about to restart it. But not this time. This was it. My second chance. Ethan could have Olivia. He could have her from the start. Sarah Miller was not walking that path again. I was going to orchestrate their "happiness" and secure my own escape into a real life.

If desire were a blade, their first encounter left him bleeding in silence. He'd built a life on peril and pleasure, armor forged from recklessness, never imagining a woman could make him lower his guard. But even with the truth veiled in lies, he was already in too deep-entangled in the game, and captivated by the player.

Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."

On her wedding day, Khloe’s sister connived with her groom, framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. She was sentenced to three years in prison, where she endured much suffering. When Khloe was finally released, her evil sister used their mother to coerce Khloe into an indecent liaison with an elderly man. As fate would have it, Khloe crossed paths with Henrik, the dashing yet ruthless mobster who sought to alter the course of her life. Despite Henrik’s cold exterior, he cherished Khloe like no other. He helped her take retribution from her tormentors and kept her from being bullied again.

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."

Kaelyn devoted three years tending to her husband after a terrible accident. But once he was fully recovered, he cast her aside and brought his first love back from abroad. Devastated, Kaelyn decided on a divorce as people mocked her for being discarded. She went on to reinvent herself, becoming a highly sought-after doctor, a champion racer, and an internationally renowned architectural designer. Even then, the traitors sneered in disdain, believing Kaelyn would never find someone. But then the ex-husband’s uncle, a powerful warlord, returned with his army to ask for Kaelyn’s hand in marriage.

Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own. "Stop pestering me!" said her ex-boyfriend. "My heart only belongs to Jenna." "How dare you think that my woman has feelings for you?" claimed a mysterious bigwig.