You Treated Me Like Trash, So I Took Out Your Entire Life — Novel

About

In a world where love can crumble under the weight of ambition and betrayal, Joan finds herself caught in a web of deceit. As the highest-paid professional organizer, she’s used to transforming lives, but nothing could prepare her for the day she arrives at a penthouse to erase her own existence. Hired by the glamorous influencer Davina, she’s tasked with packing away remnants of a past life she thought was a shared future. But as she gathers up the pieces, everything she once held dear is tossed aside—literally and figuratively.

When Otto, the man she sacrificed everything for, walks into the room, the air thickens with unspoken tension. What happens when the person you loved most becomes a stranger, wrapped in the arms of someone who revels in your pain? As Joan grapples with the shattering reality of Otto's choices, she faces a choice of her own: to reclaim her life or remain a ghost in someone else's fairy tale. But the stakes are higher than she ever imagined, and the path to healing could lead her back to the very place she swore to escape. Can she rise from the ashes of betrayal and redefine her future, or will the past always haunt her?

You Treated Me Like Trash, So I Took Out Your Entire LifeChapter 1

As the highest-paid elite professional organizer in the industry, I'd taken a rush job at a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour rate.

The client was a pampered social media influencer who wanted me to pack up and burn every last trace of her fiancé's ex-girlfriend as fast as humanly possible.

"His ex was some boring hick from the middle of nowhere. Couldn't take a hint, just squatting in his life like she belonged there. Looking at this junk makes my skin crawl."

"I'm moving in tonight, Ms. Finch. I need every trace of her existence wiped clean."

I nodded, pulled on my professional gloves, and got to work.

But when I opened the master bedroom closet and started gathering up the so-called junk, my hands began to tremble.

That men's dress shirt, washed so many times it had faded to near-white — I'd embroidered the monogram myself.

That mug with the chipped rim — I'd shaped it with my own hands at a pottery studio.

And the photo on the wall, the one of me and my long-distance boyfriend of seven years, was being tossed into the trash can by the influencer with a look of pure disgust.