99 Proposals, One Betrayal

For three years, I, the actress Ava, poured my heart into loving Ethan.

I proposed to him 99 times, each met with a casual rejection, yet I clung to the hope that my devotion would eventually win him over.

But one night, a chilling discovery shattered my deluded reality.

I overheard Ethan whispering words of passionate love, not to me, but to a photograph of his niece, Mia.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

My boyfriend, the man I lived with, was obsessed with his much younger niece, and I was merely a convenient cover for their forbidden relationship.

The full horror of his deceit hit me like a physical blow.

Before I could process the betrayal, Mia, the object of his twisted affection, brutally shoved me down a flight of stairs, leaving me for dead and comatose.

When I woke, broken and disoriented, Ethan confirmed my worst nightmare: he had given my healthy kidney to Mia during my coma, essentially dismembering me to save his obsession while I was helpless.

The ultimate violation-a piece of my body, the most profound gift, forcibly stolen and given to the very person who tried to end me, all by the man who claimed to protect me.

This wasn't just a betrayal; it was a total dehumanization.

Yet, in that moment of utter devastation, a cold, unyielding resolve ignited within me.

I had to escape, to reclaim my life from the monster who had taken everything.

It was my 99th proposal to Ethan.

I stood in the living room, holding the small velvet box, my heart pounding a familiar, hopeful rhythm against my ribs. For three years, I had loved this man, and for three years, he had kept me at a distance. We lived together, we were a couple to the outside world, but he had never touched me. Not once.

He stood by the window, his back to me, a tall, imposing silhouette against the city lights. He didn't even turn around.

"Ethan," I started, my voice trembling slightly. "Will you-"

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It cut through the air and silenced me completely.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, the bitter taste of rejection now a constant companion. 99 times. 99 rejections. Any sane person would have given up. But I was an actress, and I believed in the power of devotion. I thought if I just held on, if I just loved him enough, he would eventually see me.

My shoulders slumped. I placed the ring box on the coffee table, a small monument to my foolishness.

Later that night, I couldn't sleep. A strange noise drew me from my room. It was a low, pained murmur coming from Ethan' s study. The door was slightly ajar. I crept closer, my curiosity mixing with a cold sense of dread.

I peeked through the crack.

Ethan was sitting at his desk, his back to me. He held a framed photograph in his hands, his knuckles white. He was speaking to it, his voice thick with an emotion I had never heard from him before. It was raw, desperate, and full of a longing that was terrifying.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're the only wife in my heart."

My breath hitched. My mind went blank. Wife? He had never even called me his girlfriend with any real feeling.

"Even if I can't have you," he continued, his voice breaking, "my body and soul will always be yours."

He pressed his lips to the glass of the photograph, a gesture so tender and full of passion it made my stomach churn. It was a tenderness he had never shown me.

Who was she? Who was the woman who held the heart of the man I loved?

With a shaking hand, I pushed the door open a little wider, just enough to see the photograph.

My blood ran cold.

The woman in the photo was young, with a bright, almost predatory smile. I knew her. Of course, I knew her.

It was Mia.

His older brother's adopted daughter. His niece. The girl who called him "Uncle."

The world tilted on its axis. The air in my lungs turned to poison. The man I had dedicated three years of my life to, the man I had begged to marry me 99 times, was in love with his own niece. Our entire relationship was a lie, a cover, a shield for his sick, forbidden obsession.

A wave of nausea washed over me so intensely that I gagged. I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth as I fought the urge to vomit right there in the hallway. The sound, a choked gasp, was just loud enough.

Ethan' s head snapped up. He spun around in his chair, his eyes wide with panic as he saw me. He quickly slammed the photograph face down on his desk, but it was too late. I had seen everything.

"Ava," he said, his voice dangerously low. "What are you doing here?"

I couldn't speak. I just stared at him, the image of him kissing that photograph burned into my mind. The bile rose in my throat, and I couldn't hold it back any longer. I turned and ran for the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet as my body violently expelled the dinner I couldn't remember eating.

I heard his heavy footsteps behind me. He didn't come to comfort me. He didn't ask if I was okay.

He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. He hauled me to my feet.

"Get up," he ordered, his face a mask of cold fury. "Stop this pathetic display."

He dragged me out of the bathroom, his fingers digging into my skin. I was weak, dizzy, my mind reeling from the shock.

"Mia is sick," he said, his voice clipped and devoid of any emotion. "She has a rare blood type. She needs a transfusion, and you're a match. We're going to the hospital. Now."

I stared at him, my heart turning to a block of ice. I had just discovered his disgusting secret, a secret that made our entire relationship a sham, and his first thought was not for me, not for my pain, but for her. He wanted to use my body, to drain my blood, to save the very girl he was obsessed with.

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible.

His eyes narrowed. He tightened his grip on my arm, pulling me so close I could feel the cold radiating from him.

"You don't have a choice," he snarled. "You'll do as I say."

He dragged me out of the apartment and into the cold night, forcing me into his car. I didn't fight. I didn't have the strength. All I could feel was the icy certainty that my life, as I knew it, was over. I wasn't his girlfriend. I wasn't even a person to him. I was just a convenience. A walking blood bag for his beloved niece.

The hospital was sterile and white, the smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. Ethan didn't let go of my arm until he had me sitting in a chair in a private room. Mia was in the bed next to me, looking pale and frail, but her eyes held a triumphant glint when she looked at me.

A nurse came in with the equipment.

Ethan stood over her, his voice sharp. "Take 400cc."

The nurse paused, her eyes widening slightly. She looked from Ethan to me, noting my pale face and trembling hands.

"Sir, 400cc is the maximum for a healthy adult male," she said hesitantly. "For a woman of her size, 200cc is the standard safe amount. Anything more could be dangerous."

Ethan's gaze was like ice. "I am paying for this room. I am paying for your time. You will do as I say. Take 400cc."

The nurse looked at me with pity in her eyes, but she didn't dare argue with him again. She prepped my arm, her touch gentle, as if to apologize for what she was about to do.

The needle went in, and I watched my blood, dark and red, begin to flow through the clear tube. It snaked across the floor, a lifeline connecting me to the girl who had stolen my life.

I felt dizzy almost immediately. The room started to spin. My vision blurred at the edges.

"Ethan," I whispered, my voice weak. "I don't feel good. Please, stop."

He didn't even look at me. His eyes were fixed on Mia, his expression soft and concerned. He was holding her hand, stroking it gently.

"It's almost over, Mia," he murmured to her. "You'll feel better soon."

I was the one giving my blood, my life force, and he was comforting her. The absurdity of it was a fresh wave of pain.

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "I think I'm going to pass out."

He finally turned his head, his face annoyed. "Be quiet, Ava. It's just a little blood. Don't be so dramatic."

Those were his last words to me before the world went black.

I came to, slowly, the sound of voices pulling me from the darkness. My head was pounding, and my body felt heavy and weak.

It was Ethan's voice, soft and coddling.

"Does your arm still hurt, Mia? Let me see. Does it feel better now that you have some new blood? That's good. You were so brave."

Then Mia's voice, whiny and petulant. "Uncle Ethan, why did you even bring her? She's so weak. She fainted just from giving a little blood. It's embarrassing. I don't like her."

"I know, I know," Ethan soothed. "She's just a tool. We needed her blood, that's all. Once you're better, we won't have to see her again if you don't want to."

A tool.

That's all I was.

The words echoed in the empty space where my heart used to be. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the darkness would take me again.

But it didn't. I was forced to lie there, listening to the man I loved degrade me to the girl he was obsessed with.

Then I felt a presence beside my bed. I opened my eyes.

Mia was standing over me, a cruel smirk on her face. Ethan was gone, probably to get her a drink or a snack.

"You heard that, didn't you?" she sneered, her voice low and venomous. "You're nothing. You're just a walking blood bag he keeps around because you're convenient."

I didn't have the energy to respond. I just stared at her.

Her smirk widened. "He's mine, you know. He always has been. He only tolerates you because I let him."

She reached down, her eyes glinting with malice. Before I could react, she grabbed the IV needle still taped to my arm.

With a sharp, vicious tug, she ripped it out.

Pain exploded in my arm. Blood welled up from the wound, staining the white sheets a dark, sickening red.

"Oops," she said, her voice dripping with fake innocence. "My hand slipped."

She leaned in close, her breath hot on my cheek. "You should just die," she whispered. "Then Uncle Ethan would only have me."

The pain, the shock, the sheer venom of her words were too much for my weakened body to handle. The room spun violently, and the darkness rushed back in, swallowing me whole.