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Framed By Love, Unleashed By Vengeance Novel Cover

Framed By Love, Unleashed By Vengeance

I was a top patent lawyer until my husband and his lover framed me, destroyed my career, and sent me to prison. For seven years after, I was presumed dead, living as a ghost in a warehouse. Then, they found me. My ex-husband, Edgar, and our son, Kody, showed up, shocked to see me alive. They lured me to Kody' s 18th birthday party, but it was a lie. The party was a surprise engagement celebration for Edgar and Celena, the very woman who ruined my life. In front of everyone, Edgar told me to "let go." My own son even begged me. "Mom, please," he cried. "Just say you're sorry." Sorry? For what? For surviving the car crash they orchestrated to kill me? I looked at the boy I once loved more than life itself. In the sudden silence of the ballroom, I smiled and asked, "Kody, do you remember the night Celena asked you to slash my tires?"
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Chapter 4

Abigail Cardenas POV:

I didn't reply to the text. The invitation sat on my burner phone, a glowing ember of a past I was trying to extinguish. I went to work the next day, same routine. My body ached, a constant companion of my new life. It was a dull throb in my shoulders, a persistent crick in my neck, the familiar burn in my muscles. This was my penance, my reality.

I was pushing a cart laden with heavy boxes across the warehouse floor when I saw him. Kody. He stood awkwardly by the entrance, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, looking out of place amidst the industrial chaos.

He was eighteen now. Tall, lean, but still with that slight, almost imperceptible tilt to his head when he was unsure. His congenital heart condition, once a constant shadow over his childhood, seemed to have receded. He looked healthy, vibrant. Celena's money, no doubt, had bought him the best care. It was a painful echo, because I used to care for him just like that.

He saw me, and his eyes, wide and hopeful, locked onto mine. He took a hesitant step forward. "Mom?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

I kept pushing the cart, my gaze fixed straight ahead. My heart was a stone in my chest. I couldn't look at him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"Mom, please," he pleaded, rushing to catch up, grabbing the handle of my cart. "I know you got my text. Are you coming?"

The cart jolted to a stop. I stared at his hand on the metal, then slowly, deliberately, removed it. "I told your father," I said, my voice flat, "I'm busy."

His face fell. "But it's my eighteenth. It's important." His eyes were brimming with tears. "I really want you there."

I remembered similar tears, similar pleas. Mom, please don' t be mad. I didn' t mean to break it. Those tears had always worked on me. Back then, they would tear through my resolve, leaving me helpless to his every whim. But that Abigail was long dead.

"I'll be there," I heard myself say, the words a hollow echo in the vast space. It wasn' t a promise, not really. It was a surrender. A concession to a ghost. I needed to see this through, to finally close this chapter, once and for all.

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. A small, tentative smile touched his lips. "Really? You will?"

"Don't be late," I said, my voice still devoid of warmth, then pushed past him, resuming my work.

He just stood there, watching me, a mix of relief and confusion on his face.

The drive to the Astoria Ballroom felt endless. Kody sat beside me in his sleek, expensive car, trying to make conversation. "Mom, you look... different. But good. Really good."

I kept my gaze fixed on the passing city lights. "Life changes people, Kody," I replied, my voice clipped.

He tried again. "I've been working hard in school. Dad says I might even get into Harvard."

I offered no congratulations, no praise. Just more silence. Every word he spoke felt like a desperate attempt to bridge a chasm that had long since swallowed any hope of connection.

The Astoria Ballroom. A grand, opulent building, dripping with gold and crystal. Not exactly the venue for a simple 18th birthday party. As we pulled up to the valet, I noticed the elaborate floral arrangements, the string quartet playing a romantic melody. This felt less like a birthday and more like... something else.

"Kody," I said, a cold premonition creeping up my spine. "What exactly is this?"

His face went pale, his eyes darting away from mine. "It's... it's a surprise," he mumbled, his voice tight with discomfort.

A surprise, alright. A surprise for me, no doubt.

As we stepped into the lavish main hall, my blood ran cold. My gaze swept past the elegantly dressed guests, past the endless tables laden with fine food and champagne. It landed on the center stage, bathed in a soft, golden light.

Edgar was down on one knee, a velvet box open in his hand, a dazzling diamond glinting under the spotlights. Celena stood before him, her hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. A picture-perfect proposal.

My jaw tightened, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. So this was it. Not Kody's celebration. But theirs. A public declaration of their twisted love, built on the ashes of my life. The ultimate slap in the face.

The romantic music swelled, then faltered, as my presence registered. A ripple went through the crowd. Whispers broke out, turning into a low murmur that swept through the ballroom. All eyes turned to me, standing there like a ghost in my worn, simple dress, an unwelcome specter at their carefully orchestrated fairy tale.

Celena' s head snapped up. Her face, previously radiant with joy, drained of all color. She stumbled back a step, her hand still pressed to her mouth, but this time in genuine shock.

Edgar, still on one knee, registered my presence too. His eyes widened, and he instinctively, almost imperceptibly, tried to tuck the ring box behind his back. The coward.

"Abigail?" he stammered, scrambling to his feet, his face a mask of feigned surprise. "What are you... doing here?"

The whispers grew louder, bolder. "Is that... Abigail Cardenas?" a woman hissed, her voice carrying through the sudden hush. "The disbarred lawyer? The one who faked evidence?"

"I heard she tried to run away from justice," another voice muttered. "And then she just disappeared. Presumed dead, right?"

"She was a menace," a man spat. "Threatened my family with a lawsuit over a trivial patent. Good riddance, I say."

My mind flashed back seven years, to the patent lawsuit that had been my undoing. It was a complicated case, a groundbreaking medical device. I had poured my heart and soul into it, fighting for my client, a small startup whose innovation promised to save lives, against a powerful corporate giant. I believed in justice, in truth.

I had meticulously gathered evidence, building a rock-solid case. My client was innocent, their patent valid. I was on the brink of victory. Until I learned who the opposing counsel was. Celena Lamb. Edgar's college sweetheart, the woman he had always secretly pined for.

The day of the trial, I presented my final, irrefutable piece of evidence-an internal memo proving my client's independent discovery and Celena's client's blatant theft. It was a clear, concise victory.

Then, Celena stood up. With a smug smile, she presented a counter-document. A forged memo. Identical to mine, but with subtle changes, damning changes, that made my evidence look like a fabrication. And the source? My own firm's server. My personal computer.

My blood ran cold. My world tilted on its axis. I knew, in that instant, I had been set up. Framed.

My eyes, wide with horror, instinctively darted to the spectator's gallery. Edgar sat there, pale, his gaze fixed on the floor. He couldn't meet my eyes. In that moment, the pieces clicked into place. His late nights, his distant behavior, the veiled questions about my case files. He had been working with her. His first love. To destroy me.

The verdict came swiftly. Disbarred. Convicted of legal malpractice. Three years in prison. My reputation, my career, my life, all in ruins. The worst part? My client, the innocent startup, was crushed. Their CEO, a brilliant, passionate man, shattered by the injustice and the public backlash, took his own life weeks later. His death weighed on me, a crushing burden of guilt.

And now, here they were. Celebrating. On the day Kody was supposed to be celebrating his birthday. A twisted mockery of a reunion, a monument to their betrayal.

I was trapped, surrounded by their judgment, their whispers. The air felt thick, suffocating. My head spun. The betrayal was so deep, so absolute. I felt the familiar, burning rage begin to simmer. It was time. Time for their fairy tale to end.

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