Collateral Love, Cruel Betrayal

I was a foster kid with a talent for art. My benefactor, Declan, gave me everything: an education, a home, and a future. I loved him, and I agreed to be his wife.

Then his adopted sister, Faye, decided she wanted my brother. When my brother rejected her, Declan had his hands broken, destroying his future as a musician.

Faye framed me for kidnapping her, and Declan believed every word. He had me thrown into an abandoned mine pit filled with snakes as punishment.

Then, to teach me a "permanent lesson," he had his men drag me to a clinic.

They took one of my kidneys.

The man who promised to protect me, who I thought was my savior, carved a piece of me out for a crime I didn't commit. The love I felt for him died on that operating table.

When I woke up, he sat by my bed and told me our wedding was still on.

He thought he had broken me. He was wrong.

He doesn't know I have a plan. He doesn't know I'm leaving.

And he'll never see me again.

Chapter 1

The buzz around the Lamb family' s adopted daughter, Faye, and her sudden interest in my brother was the talk of our social circle. Everyone knew Faye Lamb got whatever she wanted.

But my brother, Coleton, wasn' t interested.

The rumors were just background noise until my phone buzzed. It was a video from an unknown number.

My finger hovered over the screen, a cold feeling creeping up my spine.

I pressed play.

The video was shaky, filmed in what looked like a damp, dark alley. Coleton was on the ground, his face bruised, his musician' s hands bent at unnatural angles. A man' s voice, rough and low, came from behind the camera.

"He should have been nicer to Faye. Now look at his pretty little hands. Not much good for playing the guitar anymore, are they?"

My breath hitched. My heart hammered against my ribs.

Then, my phone started ringing. It was a video call from the same number. From Declan.

My benefactor. The man I loved.

My hand trembled as I swiped to answer. My whole body felt like it was encased in ice.

Declan' s face filled the screen. He looked perfect, as always, sitting in his leather office chair, the New York skyline glittering behind him. He wasn' t even looking at the camera. He was looking at something off to the side.

"You have one hour, Alana. Come to the penthouse. Alone."

My body was rigid, my voice a choked whisper. "Declan, what did you do?"

"Don't worry," he said, his tone casual, like he was discussing the weather. "Coleton is important to you."

Tears streamed down my face. "He' s my brother. He' s all I have."

Declan finally turned to the camera. His eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth I once cherished. "And Faye is all I have. She' s very upset. Coleton hurt her feelings."

"He didn't do anything! He just didn't want to date her."

"That' s not the story she told me," Declan said, his voice flat. "And Faye doesn' t lie." He gestured off-screen. "Find Faye. Apologize to her. Convince her to forgive you. Then maybe I' ll let your brother go."

The camera on the other end of the video, the one in the alley, moved. A heavy boot stomped down hard on Coleton' s already broken hand.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "Stop! Please, I' ll do anything! Stop!"

I remembered a different Declan. A man who had found me, a scared foster kid with a life-threatening peanut allergy and a talent for art. He' d sponsored my education, my housing, my entire life.

He' d made sure every kitchen I ever used was scrubbed free of peanuts. He' d hired tutors, bought me the best art supplies, and praised my work with a genuine smile that made my heart flutter.

He' d taken a broken girl and made her feel whole.

He had promised me the world, a future, a home. The only thing he asked for in return was my hand in marriage. I had agreed without a second thought. I was so in love with him.

One of his friends once teased him, "You look at her like she' s the only thing in the room." And he' d just smiled, pulling me closer. It felt like a fairy tale.

Then Faye came back from her boarding school in Europe.

Suddenly, I felt the chasm between us. Faye was a Lamb, adopted into old money, a true princess. I was just a charity case Declan had picked up.

His attention shifted. The long talks we used to have were cut short. The casual touches disappeared. He was always with Faye, soothing her, indulging her every whim.

I finally understood. His love, or what I thought was love, had moved on.

I was a pet he' d grown tired of. Faye was his treasure.

I stumbled out of my apartment, my mind a blur of panic and a single, clear objective. Find Faye.

I got to the penthouse, my key still working, and found her in the living room, lounging on the silk sofa. Declan wasn't there.

Her sweet, fragile facade was gone. Her eyes were hard, her smile sharp. "So, you came."

"Where's Coleton?" I begged, my voice cracking.

"You want him back?" she asked, examining her perfectly manicured nails. "Then you know what you have to do. Leave Declan. Tell him you never loved him, that you were just using him for his money."

I remembered all the times Faye had "accidentally" spilled things on my work. The times my allergy medication went missing right before a big event. The times Declan had gotten angry with me over misunderstandings she had clearly created.

It was all her. All of it.

Declan' s devotion to her was absolute. He had once punched a guy at a party for looking at Faye for too long. He saw her as fragile, as something to be protected at all costs. An incestuous, possessive protection that I was only now beginning to understand.

"I' ll do it," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I had no choice.

Faye' s lips curved into a smug, satisfied smile. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a message. "Good girl."

A moment later, Declan called. His voice was light, almost cheerful. "He' s at the old warehouse on the pier, Alana. Go get him."

I drove like a madwoman, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. I found Coleton huddled in a corner, broken and shivering.

I held him, my tears soaking his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Coley. This is all my fault."

He just whimpered, his body wracked with pain.

"We're leaving," I told him, a new, hard resolve forming in my chest. "We're getting out of here. I promise."

I got him to the hospital, the doctors confirming his hands would need multiple surgeries, his music career now a fragile, uncertain dream.

Once he was stable, I pulled out my phone and called the only person I knew I could trust.

"Jason?"

"Alana? What' s wrong?" His voice was steady, a rock in my swirling sea of chaos.

"I need your help. Remember that study abroad program you told Coleton about?"

Jason, a successful lawyer now, had grown up in the same foster home as me and Coleton. He'd always looked out for us. He' d suggested a prestigious music program in Canada for Coleton months ago.

Coleton had refused, not wanting to leave me alone.

And Declan would have never let me go. He owned me.

But that was before. Now, I had the courage. The courage born of absolute terror and heartbreak.

I was leaving. And I was taking my brother with me.

"The program still has openings," Jason said over the phone, his voice a calm anchor.

"And they'd consider Coleton?" I asked, hope a fragile thing in my chest.

"With his talent? Absolutely. I can get the application pushed through."

"Will he go?" Jason asked gently.

I took a deep breath. "He will. Because I'm going with him. And we're not coming back."

There was a pause on the other end. "Alana... did Declan..."

I could hear the worry in his voice. He' d warned me about Declan from the beginning. He saw the possessiveness I had mistaken for love. He' d pointed out the unhealthy dynamic with Faye, how Declan treated her less like a sister and more like an obsession.

I had defended Declan, blinded by what I thought was love. I told Jason he just didn't understand.

"Are you two fighting?" Jason asked, his tone shifting to that of a concerned older brother. "Is this just a spat?"

"We're not getting married, Jason," I said, my voice flat.

There was too much to explain. The cruelty, the betrayal, the shattered pieces of my life. It was too heavy for a phone call.

"Okay," he said, sensing my fragility. "Okay, Alana. Whatever you need. I'm here. I'll support you."

The relief was so immense it almost brought me to my knees.

The immigration paperwork would take time. A few weeks, Jason said. In the meantime, I had to play my part. I had to go back to Declan' s house and pretend that everything was fine, that I had been taught my lesson.

That evening, a message from Declan popped up on my phone. Wear the silver gown I had made for you. We' re attending a charity gala tonight.

It was like nothing had happened. Like my brother wasn't lying in a hospital bed with shattered hands because of him.

I went to the walk-in closet, a space larger than my first apartment, and carefully took out the shimmering silver dress. It was beautiful, a testament to his once-lavish affection.

"Trying to win him back already?"

I turned. Faye was leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on her face.

I said nothing, turning my back to her and holding the dress against myself. Ignoring her was the only power I had left.

Her smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. "Don't you dare ignore me."

Before I could react, she snatched the glass of red wine from a nearby table and deliberately poured it down the front of the silver gown. The dark liquid bloomed across the delicate fabric like a grotesque flower.

I gasped, my stomach dropping. The dress was a custom piece. Irreplaceable. Declan would be furious.

"What was that noise?"

Declan' s voice echoed from the hallway. He walked in, his eyes taking in the scene.

Faye' s expression transformed in an instant. Her face crumpled, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at her hand, now empty. "Oh, Alana, I'm so sorry! You startled me when you turned, and I bumped your hand... I didn't mean to."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, to expose the lie. "She did it on-"

"Enough!" Declan' s voice was sharp, cutting me off. His glare was icy. "Just go change. You're making a scene."

He turned to Faye, his expression softening instantly. He gently took her arm. "It's okay, little bird. It was an accident. Don' t cry."

He was called away by a phone call then, but before he left, he shot me a warning look. Don't cause any more trouble.

I stood there, the ruined dress in my hands, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. I looked at Faye, who had dropped the act now that we were alone.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "I already agreed to your terms. Why keep doing this?"

A cruel smile played on her lips. "Because it' s fun. And because I want to see you suffer." She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "I'll be at the gala tonight, too. Declan insisted. There's a special surprise planned. You won't want to miss it."

I didn' t know what she meant, but a sense of dread washed over me. I had to be careful. I just had to survive a few more weeks.

At the gala, I stood on the stage next to Declan, playing the part of the perfect fiancée. The lights were bright, the crowd a sea of glittering jewels and fake smiles.

The auctioneer, a man with a booming voice, announced a special, final item. "And now, for a truly unique prize, one that money can' t usually buy!"

A spotlight swung across the room, and then it stopped, bathing me in its harsh, white light.

The massive screen behind the stage, which had been displaying images of the charity' s work, flickered. My own face appeared, smiling and serene, under the words: "An Evening with Alana Parker."

The blood drained from my face.

The room was silent for a beat, then erupted in confused murmurs.

I was the auction item.

"This must be some kind of mistake," I stammered into the microphone, my voice shaking.

Faye stepped forward, taking the microphone from my numb fingers. She gave the crowd a charming, apologetic smile. "Alana is just a little shy."

She turned to me, her eyes sparkling with malice. "Don't be modest, Alana. It was your idea, remember? To auction off a dinner date for such a good cause."

She winked, a silent, vicious threat. Play along, or else.

I looked out at the crowd, my eyes searching for Declan. He was sitting at his table, a look of approval on his face. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Faye, a proud smile gracing his lips for her quick thinking and her "generosity."

The crowd, catching on, burst into applause. My heart turned to ice.

"Let's start the bidding at ten thousand dollars!" the auctioneer boomed.

The bids came fast and furious. Twenty thousand. Fifty. One hundred. Each number was a fresh wave of humiliation, making me feel like a piece of meat on a butcher's block.

Faye leaned close, her breath hot against my ear. "See that man in the corner? The one in the red tie? He' s already up to two hundred thousand. He' s been wanting to get his hands on you for a while."

My stomach churned. I knew the man. A greasy, old real estate mogul who had cornered me at a party once, offering to be my "sugar daddy."

The price soared to half a million dollars.

Suddenly, I felt a strange looseness at my shoulder. The strap of my dress.

The sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the microphone still near me, echoed through the silent ballroom.

I gasped, clutching the front of my dress as it started to slide down. A wave of murmurs and camera flashes swept through the room.

Faye' s voice, just loud enough for everyone to hear, was filled with fake concern. "Oh, dear. I was worried you'd be clumsy and ruin this dress too. Good thing I brought a wrap for you."

She draped a silk shawl over my shoulders, her touch lingering. The reporters in the front row scribbled furiously, their faces full of admiration for the kind, thoughtful Faye Lamb.

"Sold! For five hundred thousand dollars to Mr. Henderson!" the auctioneer cried, banging his gavel.

The greasy mogul, Henderson, made his way to the stage, his eyes roaming over my body. He wrapped a sweaty hand around my waist. The touch made my skin crawl.

I looked at Declan. His eyes met mine, a flicker of cold annoyance in their depths, but he didn't move. He just sat there, watching as another man claimed me.

I remembered a time in college, during a student art show. I' d worn a slightly revealing costume for a performance piece. Declan had been so jealous he' d made me change, hissing that no one else was allowed to see me like that.

I had thought it was love.

Now I knew better. It was just the possessiveness of a man who saw me as his property. A property he was now willing to let another man handle.

The last embers of affection for him died in that moment. My eyes went cold. My heart went numb.

"Don't touch me," I warned Henderson, my voice low and sharp.

He just grinned, his grip tightening. "Come on, darling. You're mine for the night." He started to pull me off the stage.

I was no match for his strength. I scanned the crowd, my eyes pleading for help, but found none. The guests and the media just watched, entertained by the drama. They whispered amongst themselves, their words like tiny, sharp stones.

"Serves her right, thinking she could marry into the Lamb family."

"She was always just a gold-digger."

I was a circus act. I finally understood the vast, unbridgeable gap between my world and Declan' s. His love had been a beautiful lie, a cage disguised as a palace.

I let out a bitter laugh and stopped struggling. What was the point?

"Wait!" Faye' s voice suddenly rang out. She was holding a contract, her face a mask of distress. "There' s a problem with the legal terms! Oh, Declan, I' m so sorry, this is my fault."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "I consulted a lawyer friend, and auctioning a person, even for charity, is illegal. It could be considered a form of trafficking. I didn't realize... I' ve made such a mess."

The room erupted in chaos.

Henderson' s face turned purple with rage, his dream of a night with me shattered. He started yelling, demanding compensation for the public embarrassment.

To smooth things over, Declan stood up and, with a tight jaw, offered Henderson a lucrative partnership on a new tech project. The deal was signed on the spot, a multi-million dollar apology.

The farce was over.

Declan' s eyes, cold and hard, locked onto mine. He jerked his head toward the exit. A silent command. Follow me.

In the car, the silence was thick and heavy.

"That project was worth two hundred million dollars," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "All because of your little stunt."