Is Separate Roads I Fought For Based On A True Story?

He called me his princess and he promised me a ring, our life together was going to be Epic but when I turned 18 and my wolf cried “Mate”, He rejected me and claimed another girl in front of my eyes before he disappeared from my life, until……one night he caught me in that nightclub, I couldn’t believe it was him but I was sure it was him but then he pinned me to the wall and whispered through gritted teeth. “I don’t know you, and certainly do not love you. You have got the wrong man. But I don’t mind having you for tonight’s appetite.”

I stared at the Vercetti marriage contract my father pushed across the table. Without hesitation, I wrote my half-sister’s name, Demi, and slid it back. My father froze. Then his eyes lit up with ridiculous excitement, like he’d just won the lottery. "How can you give such a perfect chance to your sister?" Last life, my marriage was a joke for everyone around me. I was the red-haired, untamed little witch who dared to climb into the orbit of Cassian Vercetti, heir and leader of the old-blood Vercetti crime family. I was never perfect nor obedient. He loved goddess gowns. I wore mini skirts and danced on tables. He demanded missionary, traditional, orderly intimacy. I wanted to climb on top, ride him, lose myself completely. At a gala, society wives laughing at my hair, my dress, my “wildness.” I thought he would at least pretend to defend me. He didn’t. “Forgive her. She’s not…properly trained.” Trained. Like a dog. I spent my entire last life suffocating under his rules, bending myself bloody to fit the shape he wanted, until the night our house caught fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I learned of the arranged marriage. I looked at the contract in front of me. This time? I think the nightclub boys suits me better. But the moment Cassian realized the bride wasn’t me, he shattered every rule he’d ever lived by.

I spent years trying to be the perfect wife. I swallowed the insults. Excused the betrayal. Gave up my dreams because I was told they didn't matter. Convinced myself that I was the problem. Then one day, something inside me broke. I thought leaving would end my misery. Instead, it dragged me into a mess I never saw coming. The husband who never appreciated me suddenly refuses to let me go. The man who should have been nothing more than a stranger keeps finding his way into my life, looking at me like I’m the one thing he is determined to have. One is desperate to reclaim what he lost. The other wants me for all the wrong reasons. But after years of living for everyone else, I've made one promise to myself: I will never lose who I am for love again. And if they want a war? They'll have to fight it without me.

Vivienne has always believed she was Ashford’s daughter, never questioning the life she was given—until she is married to Damon Marshal Williams. To her, it’s just another cruel joke that life has thrown at her. To him, it is strategy. Damon knows exactly who she is, and more importantly, what she is worth. What begins as a calculated move soon becomes something neither of them planned. But when Vivienne uncovers the truth behind their marriage, love is no longer enough to make her stay. Faced with a choice between the life she wants and the man she never meant to love; she makes a decision she cannot take back. Years later a kidnapping, forces her back into Damon’s world—one she thought she had escaped. With time, distance, and secrets between them, the lines between past and present begin to blur. And as danger closes in, so does the truth—about the child, about their choices, and about everything they left unfinished. Bound by lies and broken by truth, this is a story of love, power, and harsh decisions that define us.

I had been with Lars Carter for six years. The head of Midas Capital in Eastwind City, he was a rising star in Riverton's Silver Street—the heart of this nation's financial world. Few knew his true roots. Within him flowed the Vitalus bloodline. Lars descended from an old mafia clan from the city of Virgil in Vitalus, the Viktors. Midas Capital was ours. We built it from the ground up together; Lars would haunt private clubs, ironing out business deals amid drinks. I would stay by his side, doing the accounts, steering the direction of the negotiations, and memorizing every detail of the high-stakes contracts. We did everything together—a tight team. Or so I thought. In my naivete, I was convinced I would rule the city alongside him. The woman behind the man, so to speak. …Until Pearl Ross arrived two months ago. His childhood sweetheart moved from Virgil to Eastwind City. It was then that I knew—she was the one he was waiting for all along. It had always been her. "Lars, I want to get married." Lars' face tightened; hesitation veiled in businesslike concern. "Bianca, you know the company's at a critical stage… We're mid-fundraising. I can't right now." I smiled, calm and composed. "That's fine." He misunderstood. I was getting married—just not to him.

By the seventh year of my engagement to Tristan, he postponed our wedding for the third time. The reason was simple. His childhood sweetheart, Gabriella, had returned to the country. She had just gone through a divorce and was emotionally unstable. Tristan personally retrieved every invitation we had sent out, his tone calm and steady. "Gabby has no one by her side right now. I can't upset her at a time like this." I held the ring that had already been resized twice and asked, "What about me?" Tristan glanced at me. "You're different. You're sensible." I had been hearing that word for seven years. Sensible. When his startup failed, I sold the old house my grandmother had left me to help him pay off his debts. When he suffered a gastric hemorrhage, I stayed at the hospital for three days straight and missed my own promotion defense. When his mother said my background was too ordinary for him, he only rubbed his temples and said, "Tori, don't make this difficult for me." Every time, I nodded. He once told me that no matter how thick the fog became, he would always leave a light on for me. Until the day Gabriella stood in front of the mirror wearing my wedding dress and smiled as she asked, "Victoria, you don't mind, do you? Tristan said your wedding's being postponed anyway." Tristan stood behind her. He did not deny it. He even reached out and adjusted her veil for her. The fog lamp he had given me with his own hands sat by the display window of the bridal shop. It was still lit, illuminating someone else in the white dress I had waited seven years to wear. Only then did I realize that some roads were not lost because the fog was too thick. It was because he had never planned to come for me at all.