Too Late, Mr. Betrayer

My bones ached, a deep throb whispering something was terribly wrong. I'd sacrificed, donating marrow to save my fiancé Ethan' s "failing" company and his "dying" college acquaintance, Brooke Hayes. I believed it was for love, for our shared future.

Then, a chilling truth surfaced. A text on Ethan' s phone: "$50k transfer… Main portfolio remains shielded." There was no crisis. Brooke, far from dying, walked out of my bedroom, vibrant, triumphant. It was a meticulously planned scam. My heart froze. Ethan gaslighted, his hand too comfortable on Brooke' s waist, denying my pain for her comfort.