Healed By Another: Rejecting The Ruthless Don

I spent a year in a Swiss asylum, swallowing pills to cure a madness that didn’t exist.

It turned out the medication was just sugar.

My insanity was a script written by Jaxon Francis, the Don of New York, just so he could marry a Cartel princess without his ward getting in the way.

When I finally escaped and tried to leave him, his new wife staged her own kidnapping and framed me.

Jaxon didn’t ask for proof. He didn’t look at the evidence.

Instead, he tied a rope around my ankles and dragged me behind a helicopter across the jagged rocks of the Wastelands.

He held his wife close and watched as my skin was flayed and my bones shattered, believing he was executing a traitor.

He left me for dead in the dirt, convinced he had cleansed his empire.

I took the hush money his mother threw at me and vanished, letting Alina Phillips die in that field.

Three years later, I returned to New York as "Echo," the elusive artist the world was obsessing over.

At a charity auction, Jaxon bid one hundred million dollars for a painting of a woman’s scarred back, desperate to buy redemption for the ghost he thought he killed.

He chased me into the rain, begging for a second chance, swearing he had destroyed his wife for me.

I looked at the man who once held my heart and simply smiled.

Then I turned to the man standing beside me.

"Jaxon, meet Darwin," I said, linking my arm through his.

"My husband."