He Murdered My Father For Her

My fiancé, Archer, left me at the altar 98 times for the same woman, Kennedy. Each time, she'd orchestrate a new disaster, and he'd rush to her side, leaving me in a wedding dress to face the humiliation alone.

But I always forgave him. Years ago, when I was a bullied college student on the verge of jumping off a bridge, he saved me. He became my hero, my protector, the man I owed my life to.

Tonight, I overheard the truth. "You used her," Kennedy said. "You orchestrated her father's 'accident' to get me his liver."

Archer's reply shattered my world. "She was just a means to an end. It was always you."

He didn't just use me; he murdered my father for her. Then, to appease Kennedy's jealousy, he tried to kill me with a seafood allergy, kicked me off a cliff, and left me for dead.

But I survived. Rescued by my former mentor, I erased my identity and became a top scientist on a deep-space mission. Four years later, I'm back, and this time, I won't be a pawn in their game. I'll be the one who ends it.

Chapter 1

Allyson Cote POV:

"Just run, Allyson. Run and never look back."The words echoed in my head, a chilling whisper against the backdrop of my shattered reality.

I stood outside the dimly lit study, my heart a leaden weight in my chest, listening to the conversation I was never meant to hear.

Archer, my fiancé, the man I' d put my entire life on hold for, was confessing his undying love for another woman.

Not just any woman, but Kennedy Simon, the one who had systematically dismantled my life, piece by agonizing piece.

My career at NASA, once a brilliant trajectory among the stars, had been paused for him.

For us. For a future I now knew was a meticulously crafted lie. I was a genius astrophysicist, but love, or what I thought was love, had blinded me.

Archer had always played the part of the devoted fiancé. He was charming, wealthy, a tech CEO with a smile that could disarm anyone.

When he first mentioned Kennedy, it was with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She's just a troubled old friend," he'd said, his tone laced with what I thought was genuine annoyance.

"A chaotic shadow from my past I can't quite shake."

He painted her as a disturbed woman, prone to erratic behavior.

He told me stories of her extreme actions, how she' d once crashed his car into a tree, just because he' d had dinner with another woman.

How she' d spread vicious rumors about him, sabotaged his business deals out of spite.

He made it seem like she was a burden, a frenemy he tolerated out of a twisted sense of childhood loyalty.

I believed him. I wanted to believe him.

My first wedding to Archer was a lavish affair, planned down to the last detail. I remember the white roses, the string quartet, the anticipation thrumming in my veins.

But just as I was about to walk down the aisle, my phone buzzed.

A picture.

Kennedy, her wrists slashed, blood blooming crimson against her pale skin, a cryptic note about Archer abandoning her.

The ambulance sirens wailed in the distance.

Archer, without a second thought, left me standing there. He rushed to her side, leaving me to face the stunned guests.

The wedding was off.

He came back later, teary-eyed and apologetic.

"She needs me, Allyson," he'd pleaded, his voice thick with a concoction of guilt and manufactured concern. "I promise, this is the last time. We'll have the perfect wedding, just for us."

I believed him. I always did.

The second wedding attempt, a smaller, more intimate ceremony, was interrupted by a bomb threat at Archer' s company, supposedly planted by Kennedy.

Archer, again, left me.

This time, I was alone in the quiet chapel, the uncomfortable stares of the few guests burning into my skin. The humiliation was a physical ache, deep in my bones.

This pattern repeated itself.

Ninety-eight times.

Each time, a new, increasingly elaborate disaster orchestrated by Kennedy, always ending with Archer abandoning me.

Each time, he would return, his face etched with false remorse, promising me a future where Kennedy was no longer a factor, a future of perfect, uninterrupted happiness.

And like a fool, I clung to those empty promises.

Tonight, that charade ended.

I heard Kennedy's voice, laced with a venomous sweetness, from behind the study door.

"You used her, Archer. You used her family for my liver. You orchestrated her father's 'accident' to get me that transplant. Don't lie to me. Didn't you always love me, not her?"

The words hit me like a physical blow.

My father.His "accidental" death.

The life-saving organ transplant that followed. All of it a lie. My legs buckled. The world tilted on its axis. Archer, the man who had supposedly loved me, had murdered my father. For her.

Then Archer's voice, soft, intimate, a voice I' d never heard him use for me. "Yes, Kennedy. Always you. She was just... a means to an end."

The air left my lungs. My entire body went cold, then numb.

The man I loved, my hero, was a monster.

My father's memory flashed before my eyes, then the image of Archer's face, twisted with a twisted loyalty to Kennedy.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I turned, my movements stiff, robotic. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stay. There was no going back.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking, and dialed the only number that mattered now. Dr. Elliott Nolan. My former mentor at NASA.

"Elliott," my voice was a broken whisper. "I need out. The deep space mission. Is there still a spot?"

His voice, usually calm and measured, was now grave. "Allyson? What happened? Are you okay?"

"No," I choked out a laugh that was half-sob. "But I will be. Just tell me, is it still possible? The five-year mission? Erasing my identity? Complete isolation?"

A pause. "It's highly classified, Allyson. You'd be off the grid. No contact. For five years. It's a clean slate, but it's absolute."

"Good," I said, my voice hardening with a new, terrifying resolve. "I'll take it. All of it."

When I hung up, the strength left my legs. I sank to the floor, my back against the cold wall. My life, my brilliant career, my love-all sacrificed, all for a lie. I, Dr. Allyson Cote, once hailed as a prodigy in astrophysics, had let myself become a pawn.

I remembered Archer's grand proposal, under a sky full of manufactured stars he'd rigged in his private observatory. It had felt so real, so romantic. He was always so good at theatrics.

The first time I heard about Kennedy, it was from one of Archer's friends at a party. "Archer's old flame," they'd joked, "she's a real piece of work. Caused him endless trouble." I'd dismissed it, confident in Archer's love.

Then came the incidents.

Kennedy crashing his dates, sending threatening messages, even leaking embarrassing photos of him to the press. Archer had always been swift to dismiss her, to assure me she was nothing but a nuisance.

"She's just desperate for attention," he'd said, his arm tight around me. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. She's going to be sent away, out of the country."

And she had been, for a time. A brief respite, a false sense of security. Archer promised me. "No one else, Allyson. Just you. She won't be a problem ever again."

But now she was back. With a vengeance. I remembered her audacious return, crashing one of Archer's high-profile board meetings, flinging herself at him, marking him with a lipstick kiss, then shooting me a triumphant, hateful glance.

"You won't marry him, Allyson," she'd hissed at me later, her eyes glinting with malice. "I'll make sure of it."

I should have seen it then. The obsession. The control. The deep, twisted connection between them.

But I was too deeply entrenched in the fantasy Archer had built.

Too in love, or so I thought, to see the truth.

Allyson Cote POV:

The first time Kennedy sabotaged our wedding, it wasn't just a phone call. It was a staged car crash, her car wrapped around a lamppost, just blocks from the church.

She was pulled out, bleeding, screaming Archer' s name. The paramedics were there, the flashing lights, the chaos.

Archer, pale and frantic, ripped his tie off and ran. He left me in my pristine white gown, trembling at the altar, the silence of the abandoned church heavier than any noise.

My carefully chosen diamond necklace, our "token of eternal love," lay forgotten on the dressing table, a cold, glittering lie.

The second time, it was a fabricated scandal involving Archer's company, a fake corporate espionage claim that threatened to ruin his reputation. Kennedy had conveniently "uncovered" it, then threatened to expose him if he didn't come to her aid.

Archer, believing his empire was at stake, barked orders into his phone, then turned to me, "I have to fix this, Allyson. It's for our future." He left me, again, with the media hounding his properties, turning me into a public spectacle.

Journalists whispered about Archer's "unstable fiancée" who brought constant drama. The humiliation stung, deep and raw. My reputation, once impeccable, now felt tarnished.

After each disaster, I would consider leaving.

The thought would flicker, a tiny rebellious flame in the darkness. But then Archer would come back, his eyes wet, his voice hoarse with fabricated despair. "Allyson, please. Don't leave me. You're all I have. I know I messed up, but I promise..."

He'd beg, he'd plead, he'd cry, and I, broken and exhausted, would always soften.

It was a weakness rooted deep in my past.

In college, I' d been the target of relentless bullying, framed for a cheating scandal that almost ruined my academic career.

I spiraled, feeling utterly alone, unseen. I' d stood on the edge of a bridge, the wind whipping my hair, contemplating an end to the pain. Archer, then just a casual acquaintance, had found me. He' d talked me down, his voice calm, his eyes full of a strange, powerful conviction that I was worth saving.

He didn't just save me that day.

He became my protector.

He believed in me unconditionally when no one else did. He pulled strings, hired lawyers, used his family's influence to clear my name.

He enveloped me in a cocoon of care, showering me with gifts, attention, and a fierce, unwavering loyalty.

He nurtured my talent, encouraged my scientific pursuits, becoming the solid ground beneath my feet. I owed him everything.

I loved him, truly believed he was my soulmate, my savior. That blind devotion, that deep-seated gratitude, made me forgive him, again and again. Each failed wedding, each public slight, each broken promise, I swallowed it down, believing his love was real, that he would eventually choose me.

Until tonight.

The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of Archer's expensive cologne, mingled with something sickly sweet – Kennedy's perfume. I pressed my ear closer to the study door, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"Archer," Kennedy purred, her voice dripping with possessiveness, "do you truly love that woman? Or was it all just a charade for me?"

My breath hitched. This was it. The real question. The truth, finally, laid bare.

Archer hesitated, a long, agonizing silence. "Kennedy, you know... she was useful. Her family... they had connections. Resources."

My father's "accident." My mind reeled. It wasn't just my father's liver. It was his legacy, his influence that Archer had needed. A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach.

"Useful?" Kennedy scoffed, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. "And her father's perfect liver, a match for mine? Was that just 'useful' too, Archer? Your grand plan to save me, to secure my future? Did she ever suspect?"

The world outside the door crumbled. My father. My sweet, brilliant father. His death was no accident. It was a calculated murder. Archer, the man who held me when I cried at his funeral, had orchestrated it. All for Kennedy. The betrayal was so profound, it stole my ability to feel.

"She's too naive, too blinded by her pathetic love for me," Archer said, his voice devoid of emotion, a casual cruelty that pierced me deeper than any knife. "She thinks I saved her life when she tried to jump off that bridge. She thinks I'm her hero."

A wave of nausea washed over me. He had used my deepest trauma, my moment of utter despair, to weave his web. My savior was my tormentor.

"And all these failed weddings?" Kennedy asked, her voice turning playful. "My little acts of chaos? Did you secretly enjoy watching her squirm, knowing she was just a pawn?"

Archer chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. "She always came back. Always forgave me. It was... convenient."

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. Convenient. My love, my pain, my humiliation. Convenient.

"You know, Archer," Kennedy continued, her voice seductively low, "she's so desperate for your affection, she probably doesn't even realize you two barely have any intimacy. She just clings to the idea of 'us,' doesn't she?"

Another long silence. Archer didn't deny it. The silence was louder than any confession. It confirmed the cold, sterile reality of our relationship. There was no real intimacy, only a performance.

"Perhaps I should just marry someone else," Kennedy mused, her voice deliberately provocative. "An old family friend, a CEO in Europe. He's been chasing me for years. It would solidify our family's position, and you know... I do need to move on from this drama."

Archer's body stiffened.

I heard a sudden, sharp intake of breath. "No!"" His voice was rough, laced with a sudden, fierce possessiveness. "You're not going anywhere. You belong to me, Kennedy."

The words were an iron fist clenching, claiming.

He didn't say "I love you." He said, "You belong to me." And the difference was everything.

Allyson Cote POV:

"You belong to me, Kennedy."

The words hung in the air.

A chilling echo that resonated deep within my bones.

Kennedy, her voice laced with mock innocence, pressed him further.

"Oh, do I, Archer?"

"Do you even know what love is?"

"Or is it just possession for you?"

Then, a harsh, undeniable sound.

A muffled gasp, followed by the undeniable thud of a body against the wall.

Archer' s fervent, desperate kiss.

And then, the sounds of intimacy, the undeniable proof of their twisted connection, of his profound betrayal.

My world shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

My father.

My heroic, kind father.

Murdered.

Orchestrated by the man I loved, to save the woman he truly loved.

The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth, burning my throat.

Every tender moment, every loving glance, every whispered promise from Archer was now a poisonous dart, piercing my heart.

The memories that once brought me comfort now twisted into grotesque images of manipulation and deceit.

I stumbled back.

My hands flying to my mouth, stifling the strangled sob that threatened to escape.

Tears streamed down my face.

Hot and furious.

Blurring my vision.

My chest ached.

Not from betrayal, but from a profound, terrifying emptiness.

Archer.

This monster was Archer.

I numbly retreated to my bedroom, the sounds from the study a dull throb in my head.

My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger.

Tear-stained cheeks.

Swollen eyes.

A haunted blankness in their depth.

All around me, like ghostly remnants of a life that would never be, hung the wedding dresses.

Ninety-nine of them.

Each one a testament to my foolish hope.

My blind faith.

My utter humiliation.

I ran my hand over the shimmering silk of the latest gown.

A ridiculous confection of lace and pearls.

He'd bought it yesterday, promising me this one would be "the one."

"It's even more perfect than the last, Allyson," he' d said.

His voice dripping with affection.

"Just like our love."

The words were a vile mockery now.

I picked up the phone, my fingers still shaking.

I called Elliott Nolan.

He was my only hope.

After the call, after confirming my escape route, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep an impossible stranger.

My mind raced, replaying every moment, every lie, every stolen breath of my past.

The door creaked open.

Archer stepped in, a soft smile on his face, his eyes heavy-lidded and satisfied. He smelled of Kennedy' s sickeningly sweet perfume, mingling with the sharp tang of his own cologne.

My stomach churned. He moved towards me, his arms reaching out.

"My love," he murmured, pulling me into a tender embrace.

I stiffened, a wave of revulsion washing over me. His touch, once a balm, now felt like a viper's coil. I instinctively pulled away, my body recoiling from the contact.

"What's wrong, Allyson?" His smile faltered.

"Still upset about Kennedy? Don't be silly. You know she's nothing."

His voice was patronizing, dismissive. "You're acting childish."

My blood ran cold.

Childish?

He had just orchestrated my father's death, been intimate with another woman, and now he called me childish.

The rage boiled, a silent inferno within me. But I swallowed it down.

Seven days.I just needed seven more days.

"It's nothing," I forced out, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

"Just a little tired."

He kissed my forehead, seemingly pacified. "Don't worry, darling. Our wedding will be perfect. The 99th time is the charm, right?"

He chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves.

"What about this dress? Did you like it?" He gestured to the latest gown.

"It's... ugly," I said, a flicker of defiance in my voice.

His brow furrowed for a moment, then cleared.

A wide grin spread across his face. "Ugly? You know what? You're right! It's not good enough for you, my queen. Tell you what, let's just... cancel this one too. We'll find something truly spectacular. Something that screams 'Allyson Cote.' We' ll postpone the wedding again, darling. Just until we find the absolutely perfect one."

My heart hammered in my chest.

He was canceling the wedding.

Again.

But this time... this time it was my escape.

He was doing my dirty work for me. My lips curved into a cold, inward smile.

He had no idea.

"Alright, Archer," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Whatever you think is best."

He looked surprised, then pleased.

"My sensible Allyson. Always so understanding." He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, feigning sleepiness.

"Seven days," I thought, "and I'll be free."

Just then, a soft knock on the door.

Kennedy's voice, sweet and childlike, floated in.

"Archer? Are you asleep? I had a nightmare. Can you come comfort me?"

Archer sighed, a theatrical display of patience.

"Of course, darling. I'll be right there." He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, "Sleep well, Allyson. I'll be back in a bit."

He left, the door clicking shut behind him. I could hear their muffled voices, then the soft creak of another door.

Then silence.

A chilling silence.

My countdown had begun.