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The Wild Freedom I Choose

After six years of marriage, Cyran Valehart destroys his wife’s equestrian career to be with his pregnant first love. By sabotaging her saddle during a critical match, he causes a devastating fall that kills her dreams and cripples her horse. Though he later attempts to sacrifice everything to earn her forgiveness, the betrayal is absolute. This billionaire romance follows a woman moving past her ruined marriage to find independence, leaving her former husband as nothing more than a ghost from her past.
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Chapter 3

Fractured Glory

"I watched your competition livestream. You were amazing. Congratulations on making it to the next round."

For a moment I froze, lost in memories. He used to be the one who wore my victories like they were his own.

"Elara, I still love you. I was never truly against your dream. Once Celia has the baby, everything will go back to the way it was. Why do you have to make such a scene?"

I looked at him and let out a sharp laugh.

"Back to the way it was? What about your heart? Has that never changed either?"

Cyran said nothing, but I didn't need his answer anymore.

"I've already asked my lawyer to prepare the divorce papers. Once the competition is over, let's part on good terms."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but I turned away and went back to my room.

After that night, something in Cyran shifted.

I knew he didn't want the divorce, but it wasn't about me. It was about my family name, and the status it gave him and his child.

A few days later, as I was heading out for training, Cyran—who was resting at home—offered to drive me.

I didn't refuse. But Celia grew restless.

"Cyran, I'm bored sitting around all day. Can you take me with you? I've never even been to a stable before."

At first, he didn't want to. But when she pleaded with that pitiful tone of hers, he finally gave in.

While I trained, the two of them stood at the edge of the arena, watching.

Celia wouldn't behave. One moment she was gagging from the smell, the next she was shrieking dramatically whenever Acorn trotted past, pretending to be terrified.

I'd had enough. I pulled my horse to a stop right in front of her.

"If you can't handle it, then leave. Don't stand here getting in the way. And if anything happens to that baby you're carrying, do you really plan to blame it on me?"

Her lips quivered, and she put on that pitiful, wounded look.

"Elara, I know you don't like me, but how could you curse Cyran's child like that?"

She hurled her purse straight at me. It struck Acorn's hind leg. My horse reared suddenly, front hooves clawing the air, a sharp, piercing cry tearing from him.

I gripped tight with my knees and pulled hard on the reins, fighting to keep control, desperate not to be thrown.

Through the chaos, I heard Celia's shrill scream and Cyran's panicked shouting.

Then, Acorn came crashing down, bucked twice, and sent me flying.

I slammed shoulder-first against the arena rail. The pain shot white-hot—my arm went limp. I knew instantly my shoulder had dislocated.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Celia crumpled on the ground, clutching her stomach.

Clenching my teeth against the pain, I forced myself to stand, fury burning hotter than the injury.

"Celia, are you out of your mind? You almost—"

The word never left my lips. Cyran's hand cracked across my face.

"How dare you insult Celia?"

The sting of his slap split me open inside. Shock, fear, and humiliation—they flooded me all at once. Tears spilled before I could stop them.

Only then did Cyran glance at my hanging arm and seem to realize just how dangerous the situation had been.

Before a trace of guilt could reach him, Celia's sobs broke the silence.

"Cyran, my stomach hurts… I'm so scared."

The moment he saw her doubled over, Cyran didn't spare me a glance. He scooped Celia into his arms and carried her away.

I watched his back as he disappeared, and it felt as though my heart had dropped into a bottomless pit.

In six years of marriage, this was the first time he had ever raised his hand against me.

The stable's medical staff tended to my shoulder, resetting it with brisk efficiency.

By the time I finally made it home, night had already fallen.

Cyran was there, alone. His face was so dark it was almost frightening.

"Celia nearly miscarried. That damn horse of yours almost killed her—and the baby!"

With a furious sweep of his arm, Cyran knocked the trophies from the cabinet.

They clattered to the floor, the very trophies I had earned through years of sweat and sacrifice, the very symbols of triumph he once celebrated with me.

Now they lay shattered, just like everything between us.