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Escape From His Perfect Lie

Escape From His Perfect Lie

img Short stories
img 24 Chapters
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img Gavin
5.0
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About

Everyone envied my life. I was Sarah Miller, the picture-perfect wife of high-tech CEO Ethan Hayes – a modern power couple, constantly featured in glossy magazines. Publicly, he was my adoring husband, showering me with grand gestures. It looked like a dream. But behind the scenes, I discovered a nightmare. Hidden on his private cloud, disguised as corporate files, were explicit photos and messages. My husband, Ethan, and his ambitious Head of Communications, Chloe Vance. He called me "The Anchor," his "dutiful, boring wife," a deadweight holding him back. When confronted, he didn' t deny; he gaslighted. "You' re just stressed, Sarah. After everything I' ve done." He weaponized my father' s illness, reminding me how he' d "saved" me, built "this life for us," how I "owed" him. The betrayal was no momentary lapse; it was a brazen, parallel life, constantly flaunted by Chloe' s smug social media posts. I realized I was suffocating in a beautiful, empty museum, a gilded cage. His "sacrifices" and "kindnesses" weren't love; they were chains. He twisted my vulnerability into perpetual debt. The man the world adored was a monster, and my "perfect" life was a suffocating lie. How could I escape? Then, a thick envelope arrived. A letter from an estranged, wealthy grandmother I barely knew, naming me the beneficiary of a colossal family trust. This was it. My way out. I was done being his accessory. I was done being Sarah Hayes.

Introduction

Everyone envied my life.

I was Sarah Miller, the picture-perfect wife of high-tech CEO Ethan Hayes – a modern power couple, constantly featured in glossy magazines.

Publicly, he was my adoring husband, showering me with grand gestures. It looked like a dream.

But behind the scenes, I discovered a nightmare.

Hidden on his private cloud, disguised as corporate files, were explicit photos and messages.

My husband, Ethan, and his ambitious Head of Communications, Chloe Vance.

He called me "The Anchor," his "dutiful, boring wife," a deadweight holding him back.

When confronted, he didn' t deny; he gaslighted.

"You' re just stressed, Sarah. After everything I' ve done." He weaponized my father' s illness, reminding me how he' d "saved" me, built "this life for us," how I "owed" him.

The betrayal was no momentary lapse; it was a brazen, parallel life, constantly flaunted by Chloe' s smug social media posts.

I realized I was suffocating in a beautiful, empty museum, a gilded cage.

His "sacrifices" and "kindnesses" weren't love; they were chains. He twisted my vulnerability into perpetual debt.

The man the world adored was a monster, and my "perfect" life was a suffocating lie. How could I escape?

Then, a thick envelope arrived.

A letter from an estranged, wealthy grandmother I barely knew, naming me the beneficiary of a colossal family trust. This was it. My way out.

I was done being his accessory.

I was done being Sarah Hayes.

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