His Cruel Game, Her Broken Heart

I was about to marry Holden Dalton, the heir to a real estate empire. For three years, the world watched our fairy-tale romance: the poor art student who won the heart of a prince.

But on the eve of our wedding, I discovered the truth. Our entire relationship was a lie-a cruel, three-year-long "social experiment" he orchestrated to humiliate me for the amusement of his childhood sweetheart, Estella.

The truth came out after a car accident revealed I was three months pregnant. Heartbroken, I walked into a clinic alone and left our baby behind on a cold operating table.

But my pain was just part of their entertainment. They staged a fake kidnapping, and Holden chose to "save" Estella without hesitation, leaving me to be pushed off a cliff onto an airbag as his friends laughed.

At a charity gala for an arts center I had poured my soul into, he publicly gave all the credit to Estella, branding me a fraud. The resulting scandal caused my mentor to die from a heart attack.

Then, they sent a "condolence" cake to his funeral. In cheerful icing, it read: "Sorry for your loss! Another victim of the prank!" It was signed by both of them.

That was when the last piece of my heart turned to stone. I walked away from the grave, pulled out my phone, and made a call.

"Gael," I choked out, "I lost the bet. I'm ready to leave."

Chapter 1

New York' s elite were buzzing. Holden Dalton, the heir to the Dalton real estate empire, was getting married.

The city' s high society should have been celebrating, but instead, they were in shock. His fiancée wasn' t a fellow socialite.

She was Kenia Hayes, a struggling art student from a rough Brooklyn neighborhood.

For three years, Holden had paraded his love for her. He flew across the world on a private jet just to comfort her when she was homesick. He bought her a multi-million dollar private island for her birthday. He even cut a billion-dollar deal because the other party' s son made a rude comment about Kenia' s background.

Everyone believed it was a modern-day fairy tale. The poor girl who won the heart of a prince.

They thought they were watching the perfect love story unfold.

But on the eve of the most anticipated wedding of the decade, Kenia Hayes prepared three gifts for her beloved fiancé.

Her first gift was the wedding dress. She had spent three years designing it, pouring every ounce of her love and talent into the silk and lace. She carefully packed it and sent it to Estella Duncan, Holden' s childhood sweetheart.

Her second gift was for his grandmother, the Dalton family matriarch, Annabella Blake. It was an agreement to terminate the engagement, which Kenia signed without hesitation.

Her third gift was the most personal. She walked into a private clinic, alone, and lay down on a cold table. An hour later, she walked out, leaving behind a three-month-old pregnancy. The pregnancy had just developed a heartbeat.

Her love story was a lie. Her life for the past three years was a lie.

It was all just a game. A cruel, long-running "social experiment" Holden had started to humiliate her for Estella' s amusement.

The anesthesia was wearing off, and the doctor' s voice was a distant buzz in her ears.

"The procedure was successful. You need to rest and take care of yourself. Avoid cold water and heavy lifting."

Kenia felt a dull ache in her lower abdomen, a hollow emptiness that had nothing to do with the surgery.

Her phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a message from Holden.

"Baby, are you still mad? Estella just got back, and I have to spend some time with her. I'll be home in a couple of days. I love you."

A bitter smile touched Kenia's lips. He had no idea. He hadn' t been home in weeks. He had no idea she had seen him with Estella last night, kissing her in the garden of their penthouse. He had no idea she' d been so devastated that she' d walked right into the path of a taxi.

He had no idea that the accident had revealed she was pregnant.

And he had no idea she had just ended it.

She typed back a simple, cheerful reply.

"Okay. Don't worry about me. Have fun!"

She pressed send, the lie tasting like ash in her mouth. She felt a tear escape and trace a cold path down her cheek.

She quickly wiped it away. She wouldn't cry for him anymore. Not after what she' d overheard.

After the car accident, the doctor had told her she was pregnant. For a fleeting moment, she had felt a surge of hope. A baby. Maybe a baby would make Holden finally stand up to his family, to Estella. Maybe it would make their love real.

But then she returned to the penthouse, her body aching, her heart full of a fragile hope. And she heard them. Holden and Estella, laughing in the living room.

"Wasn't it hilarious? The look on her face when you chose me," Estella' s voice dripped with poison.

"Of course I'd choose you, Stella. It was just a prank. Number 98," Holden had replied, his voice the same one that whispered "I love you" to Kenia every night.

A fake kidnapping. That' s what it was. Another one of their twisted games.

The hope inside Kenia shattered into a million tiny pieces. She realized then that the only way to end the game was to leave the board entirely. The baby couldn't be born into this world of lies and cruelty. It deserved better. She deserved better.

So she made her appointments. The lawyer. The clinic.

Now, it was done.

She got dressed slowly, every movement a painful reminder of her loss. She walked out of the clinic and into the cold New York air, feeling strangely light.

When she arrived back at the lavish penthouse Holden called their home, a maid deliberately splashed a bucket of cold water on the floor in front of her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Hayes. I didn't see you there." The maid' s apology was laced with mockery. The other staff snickered behind their hands.

Kenia didn't react. She just walked through the puddle, the icy water seeping into her shoes. She felt a sharp cramp in her stomach, but her face remained a mask of indifference.

She clutched her flat belly. A fresh wave of grief washed over her, but she pushed it down.

The head butler, Mr. Thompson, stepped forward with a fake smile. "Miss Hayes, you're back. Mr. Dalton has been so worried."

"Where is he?" Kenia asked, her voice flat.

Thompson chuckled. "Miss Hayes, you've been with Mr. Dalton for three years. Don't you know where he is? He' s with Miss Duncan, of course. She' s the real lady of this house."

The staff's whispers followed her as she walked towards her room. They were all betting on how long she'd cling on, now that the "real" fiancée was back.

They thought she was a gold-digger who would never leave.

They were wrong.

She was going to disappear from their lives forever.

She went to her room to pack her small suitcase. There wasn't much to take. Her life before Holden had been simple.

But when she opened her drawer, her passport and ID were gone.

She searched everywhere, her panic rising. She couldn't leave without them. She was trapped.

That night, a fever took hold of her. She tossed and turned in the massive bed, her body aching and her mind filled with nightmares.

Sometime after midnight, she was woken by voices outside her door. It was Holden and Estella.

"Holden, darling, are you sure we should do this? She just had that little accident," Estella said, her voice a syrupy sweet poison.

"It's the next prank, Stella. It's all set up. It' ll be the best one yet," Holden replied. His voice was low, intimate. "Don't worry. She' s tough."

Kenia' s blood ran cold. They were planning something else. Another humiliation.

She had to get out. Now.

The next morning, Kenia felt a chill that had nothing to do with her fever. She remembered Holden's words from last night, the casual cruelty in his voice as he planned the next "prank" with Estella.

She walked towards his study, a place she was usually welcome. The door was slightly ajar. She heard their voices again.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Holden? A fake kidnapping seems a bit much," Estella said.

"It's perfect," Holden replied, his voice smooth. "We'll have two of them tied up. Me on a video call. I'll have to choose who to save. It will be the ultimate test of my love for you, darling."

Kenia's heart stopped.

"But what if she gets scared? What if she actually gets hurt?" Estella asked, a fake note of concern in her voice.

"Don't worry. It's all staged. There will be an airbag. It's prank number 98. We need to make it memorable before the big finale."

The big finale. The wedding. Where they planned to reveal everything and laugh at her.

"What if you start to feel sorry for her?" Estella pressed.

There was a pause. Kenia held her breath.

"Feel sorry for Kenia?" Holden laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Never. This was always about you, Estella. It was always for you."

"Oh, Holden," Estella purred, satisfied. "I knew you still loved me best."

Kenia stumbled back from the door, her body numb. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Every loving word, every tender touch from the past three years was a lie. A performance.

She made it back to her room, collapsing on the bed. Her body was shaking.

A few hours later, her phone rang. It was Holden.

"Hey, baby. I'm sorry about last night. I miss you," he said, his voice full of fake warmth. "Listen, I need you to do something for me."

He needed her to deliver a file to a remote cliffside villa. He said it was urgent, for a business deal. He told her to come alone and not to tell anyone.

"And Kenia," he added, "wear that white dress I love so much."

She knew it was a trap. It was the start of prank number 98. But her passport and ID were still missing. He had them. He was controlling her.

"I'll get your passport and ID back to you right after you deliver the file," he said, as if reading her mind.

She had no choice. "Okay," she whispered.

The journey was long. Her fever worsened, and her body ached. When she finally arrived at the villa, the sun was setting, casting long, eerie shadows.

As she reached for the doorbell, two masked men grabbed her from behind. They dragged her inside, tied her to a chair, and put a bag over her head.

When they finally took the bag off, she saw Estella tied to a chair opposite her. Estella was crying, her makeup smeared. It was a convincing performance.

A laptop was placed in front of them. The screen flickered to life, showing Holden' s handsome, worried face.

"Holden! Help us!" Estella screamed.

One of the masked men, his voice electronically distorted, said, "Holden Dalton. You can only save one. Your fiancée, or your little artist. Choose."

Holden' s face was a mask of anguish. He looked from Estella to Kenia.

For a crazy second, Kenia's heart pounded with a sliver of hope. Would he choose her? After three years, did any of it mean anything to him?

"I choose Estella," Holden said, without a moment's hesitation. "I'll pay anything. Just let her go."

He looked at Kenia, his eyes full of fake pity. "I'm so sorry, Kenia. I truly am."

Then he hung up.

The hope inside Kenia died, finally and forever.

The men untied Estella and led her away. Kenia was left alone in the dark room.

Then, the men came back for her. They dragged her towards a large window overlooking the cliff.

"He didn't choose you," one of them rasped. "Now you pay the price."

They pushed her onto the window ledge. The wind whipped her hair around her face. Below, there was only darkness and the sound of crashing waves.

"Please," she whispered, not knowing who she was pleading with.

She instinctively called out his name. "Holden!"

Then she stopped. Why was she calling for the man who had just condemned her to death? Her heart felt like it was being ripped out of her chest.

"Give us the file," the man said, "or you go over."

She clutched the file to her chest. It was the last thing he had asked her to do for him. Even now, some broken part of her wanted to be loyal.

The man suddenly let go.

She lost her balance, her body tipping over the edge. As she fell, a strange sense of peace washed over her. This was it. This was the end of the pain.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact.

But it never came.

She landed on something soft, bouncy. An airbag.

Laughter erupted around her. The men took off their masks. They were Holden's friends. Estella was there, looking down at her, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Did you really think he'd choose you?" one of them sneered. "It was all a prank, you idiot."

"She really thought he loved her," another one laughed. "She even called his name before she fell."

Kenia lay on the airbag, looking up at their jeering faces. The world spun around her. The humiliation was a physical blow, worse than any fall. This was prank number 98. A game they played with her life, her heart.

And she had fallen for it completely.

Estella walked over, her heels clicking on the pavement. She picked up the file that had fallen next to Kenia.

"Thank you for delivering this, Kenia," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "It's the deed to a villa in France. A little wedding present from Holden to me."

Holden appeared, rushing to Estella's side. He wrapped his arm around her, his face full of concern.

"Are you okay, darling? Did they scare you?" he asked, completely ignoring Kenia on the ground.

"I'm fine, Holden. It was just a little scary," Estella said, leaning into him.

Holden kissed her forehead. "Let's get you home. I'll have my doctor check on you."

He led Estella away without a single glance back at Kenia. His friends followed, still laughing.

Kenia was left alone in the darkness, the cold seeping into her bones.

She slowly pushed herself up. Her passport and ID were lying on the ground nearby. He had kept his promise, in the cruelest way possible.

She picked them up and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found a number she hadn't called in a long time. A number she had gotten after a bet half a year ago.

The phone rang once before a deep, calm voice answered. "Gael Simpson."

Tears streamed down Kenia's face. "Gael," she choked out. "I lost the bet. I'm ready to leave."

"I'll get the visa sorted," he said, his voice warm and steady. "I'll come get you in a week."

There was a sound of a smile in his voice. "I knew you'd call."

After she hung up, Holden's secretary, a woman named Sarah, appeared. She helped Kenia up, her face full of pity.

"Mr. Dalton asked me to take you home, Miss Hayes," she said softly. She handed Kenia a warm pastry from a familiar bakery. It was Kenia's favorite.

The sight of it, a small token of a love that was never real, broke her. The tears she had been holding back finally came, hot and fast.

The stress, the fall, and the cold finally took their toll. Kenia collapsed, her fever spiking. She woke up in a hospital bed.

Holden was sitting by her side, carefully peeling an apple. He looked like the perfect, caring fiancé.

"You're awake," he said, his voice soft. He took her hand. "You scared me. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Kenia stared at his face, the handsome face she had loved so much. She remembered all the times he had taken care of her, all the grand gestures. She once thought he was her guardian angel. Now she knew he was her personal demon.

"The incident this morning is all over the news," he said, his voice turning serious. "Don't say anything to the press. I'll handle it."

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes. He was hiding something.

When he left to talk to the doctor, she grabbed her phone.

The headlines were brutal. "Holden Dalton's Fiancée in Fake Kidnapping Stunt." But the articles weren't about her. They were about Estella. The media was painting Estella as a victim of a cruel prank, and Kenia as the jealous, unstable other woman who might have orchestrated it.

Then she saw it. A post from Holden's official social media account.

"Estella is the most important woman in my life. I will not let anyone harm her. The pranks have gone too far. I will protect her, always."

Below it, Estella had replied, "Some people will do anything for attention. So pathetic."

The comments were a flood of hate, all directed at Kenia. "Gold-digger." "Psycho." "Leave Holden and Estella alone."

He had thrown her to the wolves to make Estella look like a saint. He was using her, one last time.

Holden came back into the room, a gentle smile on his face.

"The doctor said you just need some rest," he said. "What were you going to say to me, back at the villa, before you... fell?"

He was still playing the game.

"Nothing," Kenia said, her voice dead.

His phone rang. It was Estella. He turned his back to her to answer it, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

"I'll be right there, darling." He hung up and turned back to Kenia. "You stay here and get better. The charity gala for your arts center is in three days. I'll have a car pick you up."

He walked out of the room without looking back.

Kenia stared at the apple he had peeled for her. He had even cut it into little star shapes, just like she liked.

Then she remembered. She was allergic to apples. It was Estella who loved them.

Even in this small, intimate gesture, he had confused them. Or maybe, he had never really seen her at all.