Ninety-Nine Letters, A Thousand Lies

On our third anniversary, I found ninety-nine love letters my husband wrote.

None of them were for me.

They were for Kennedy, the woman who stole my award-winning design years ago, the woman he swore he was over.

His letters spoke of a soul-deep connection, a passion I'd only ever dreamed of.

Then, my best friend called from the airport. She saw him there, with Kennedy, locked in a Hollywood-style embrace.

He wasn't just cheating. This was a long-con.

He'd married me to silence me, using my DNA to help Kennedy fraudulently claim the inheritance of the powerful Olsen family-an inheritance that was rightfully mine.

He canceled my credit cards, renounced his citizenship, and secretly married her in France, all while I played the part of the loving wife.

When I tried to fight back, he had me drugged, imprisoned, and nearly drowned, all to protect his precious Kennedy.

He thought he had erased me, a mere footnote in their grand story.

But he made one fatal mistake.

He didn't know I was the real Olsen heiress.

And I was coming back to claim everything he stole.

Chapter 1

Aubrey Burris POV:

The ninety-nine love letters weren't tucked away in some forgotten drawer.

They were right there.

Stacked neatly on Cooper' s side of the nightstand.

Beside our wedding photo.

It was our third anniversary.

The air in our bedroom, usually a sanctuary, suddenly felt like a freezer door had been left open. Chilling me to the bone.

Each envelope was thick, old-fashioned, sealed with a wax stamp. A careful, almost reverent touch that made my stomach churn.

I picked up the top letter.

My fingers trembled. The elegant script, so familiar from Cooper' s early, more romantic notes to me, now felt alien. A language I suddenly couldn' t understand. The first line blurred.

"My dearest Kennedy..."

Kennedy.

The name hit me like a physical blow. It was a name that had haunted me for years. A ghost in the periphery of my life. Always just out of reach, yet always present.

The woman who stole my winning design. My chance at that international scholarship. Years ago.

The woman Cooper had supposedly long moved on from.

I fumbled with the letter. Tearing the wax seal open in my haste. The scent of old paper and something faintly floral wafted up. Something that wasn't my scent.

Cooper' s words, painstakingly crafted, poured out onto the page.

He wrote about her "unrivaled brilliance," her "vision that reshaped his world," and a "connection that defied explanation."

It was a stark contrast to the functional texts he sent me. The terse emails.

Pick up dry cleaning.

Dinner at 7. My breath hitched. He had written these words with a passion I' d only ever dreamed of. A devotion that felt like an open wound in my own heart.

He described details of their shared dreams. Their future plans. Plans that sounded eerily like the ones we' d discussed. The life we were building.

My mind raced. Trying to reconcile the man who wrote these fervent declarations with the husband who kissed me goodnight. Often with a distant look in his eyes.

My heart shattered.

Piece by agonizing piece. Dissolving into a cold, hollow ache in my chest. Each word was a tiny shard. Piercing deeper. Twisting within me.

The elegant calligraphy now seemed sinister. A testament to a love that was never mine.

I felt a wave of nausea. A dizzying sense of displacement. My elegant wedding dress, hanging pristine in the closet, suddenly felt like a cruel joke. Our anniversary dinner, planned for a fancy downtown restaurant, tasted like ash in my mouth before I' d even left the house.

This wasn't just a clandestine affair. This was a love so profound. So deeply etched into his being. It felt like an insult to my very existence.

He was describing my husband. The man I loved. To another woman.

He spoke of her as his muse, his destiny.

"You are the architecture of my soul, Kennedy," one line read. "Every structure I build, every dream I pursue, begins and ends with you."

The bitter irony was a punch to the gut.

I specialized in architectural translation. Translating the visions of others into tangible plans. And here I was. Translating the reality of my own crumbling marriage. Word by agonizing word.

It was all a cruel, elaborate lie.

The rage simmered beneath the surface of my despair. How could he? How could we?

My phone buzzed against the bedside table. A jarring intrusion into my private hell.

It was Jonna. My best friend.

I took a deep, shaky breath. Trying to compose myself. Jonna had no filter. But she was fiercely loyal. She wouldn't mince words if I told her. But I couldn't bring myself to speak.

"Aubrey? Happy anniversary, girl!" Jonna's voice, usually a bright, energetic burst, sounded strained. "Listen, I just saw something. I... I think you need to see this."

There was a pause. A hesitant uncertainty in her tone that was rare for Jonna.

"What is it, Jonna? I... I can't really talk right now," I managed. My voice thin and reedy.

"No, you have to. It's Cooper. At the airport." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's hugging Kennedy. Like, a full-on, Hollywood movie, swept-off-her-feet embrace. She just got off a flight."

The blood drained from my face. My hand tightened around the letter. It felt like the universe was conspiring to twist the knife deeper.

Not just letters. But a public display. On our anniversary.

"What?" I whispered. The single word a mere breath.

"Yeah. And she's got this smug look on her face. Like she just won the lottery. Cooper... he looks absolutely smitten, Aubrey. Like he's found a long-lost treasure." Jonna's voice was sharp with disbelief and growing anger. "He's practically beaming. They're heading towards the car now."

A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. The letters. The airport embrace. It was all real. It was all happening.

"Jonna, you need to go," I said. A sudden urgency in my voice. "Don't confront them. Just... go."

But Jonna, true to form, ignored me. "No way. I'm a journalist, remember? This is a story, and I'm not letting them get away with it."

I heard distant murmurs. Then Jonna's voice, loud and clear. "Cooper Mcknight! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

My heart leaped into my throat. No, Jonna, no!

A brief silence. Then Cooper's voice. Colder than I had ever heard it. "Jonna. I don't know what you think you're seeing, but this is none of your business."

"None of my business? That's Aubrey's husband you're pawing at, Kennedy! And on their anniversary, no less!" Jonna spat. Venom dripping from her words.

Then Kennedy's voice. Sweet and deceptively fragile. "Jonna, please. You're making a scene. Cooper and I are just... catching up."

"Catching up? You look like you're about to make out in the arrivals hall!" Jonna retorted.

"Jonna, I suggest you back off," Cooper warned. His tone dangerously low. "You wouldn't want your... private life becoming front-page news, would you? Some of those pictures you posted in college were quite revealing."

My gasp was lost in the phone. A choked sound of horror. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Jonna was fiercely private about her past.

"You bastard! You wouldn't dare!" Jonna yelled. Her voice trembling now.

"Try me," Cooper said. His voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Now, if you'll excuse us. Kennedy and I have plans."

I heard Jonna's choked sob. Then a sniffle. "Aubrey... I'm so sorry. I... I should have listened. He's a monster."

"Jonna, get out of there. Please. Now." My voice was firm. Despite the tremor in my hands. "Go home. I'll call you." He was capable of anything. I knew it now.

"But Aubrey, he can't get away with this! He's humiliating you!" Her voice was thick with tears.

"I know," I said. My gaze falling back to the stack of letters. "Just... let me handle this. Go."

I hung up. The silence deafening.

The truth hit me with the force of a tidal wave. Drowning me in pain and a terrifying clarity.

Cooper hadn' t loved me.He had used me.

His proposal. Our entire marriage. Had been a calculated ploy. He had married me to silence me. To prevent me from exposing Kennedy's plagiarism years ago. To keep her safe.

And his "punishment" for Kennedy? Secretly funding her education at a top European design school. A twisted act of devotion that solidified her supposed victimhood.

The man I married was a ghost. A mirage. He was a shell. Animated only by his obsession with Kennedy.

Every touch. Every word. Every shared dream-all of it was a performance. A grand deception orchestrated to protect his beloved.

The humiliation was a raw, burning sensation. Stripping away every ounce of dignity I thought I possessed.

The house, once a symbol of our shared life, now felt like a stage set for a play I never auditioned for.

Cooper' s relentless "home improvement" projects over the past few weeks, which I'd dismissed as his sudden interest in interior design, now made sickening sense. He' d systematically replaced all our furniture with sleek, minimalist pieces. Explaining it as a move towards a "more modern aesthetic."

It wasn' t for me.

It was for Kennedy. Her preferred style. Her taste.

Erasing my presence. Piece by piece. Before she even arrived.

My hands clenched. The love letters crinkling in my grasp. This wasn't just about a stolen design or a broken heart. This was about a calculated, systematic erasure of my identity.

A DNA sample he' d coaxed from me under false pretenses – a medical "precaution" before starting a family, he' d claimed – now flashed like a red warning sign.

He wasn' t just protecting Kennedy; he was building her a new life. Brick by fraudulent brick.

A sharp ping sounded from my phone. It was an alert from my bank. "Credit card declined."

My stomach dropped. I tried again. Declined. Panic tightened its grip. My credit card. Canceled?

Just as I was reeling from that, another notification popped up on my phone.

An anonymous news alert.

Tech CEO Cooper Mcknight Renounces US Citizenship for French Marriage to Heiress Kennedy Patel.

Heiress? Kennedy Patel?

My blood ran cold. The pieces clicked into place with horrifying precision.

He needed my DNA. To help Kennedy fraudulently claim the identity of the long-lost heiress to the powerful, media-shy Olsen family.

The Olsen family.

The name echoed in my mind. A distant, almost mythical entity in the world of architectural translation. Whispered about in hushed tones for their reclusive nature and immense influence. They were the very family I had been trying to connect with for months for my next big contract. A contract Cooper had supposedly been helping me secure.

I was not just betrayed. I was an unwitting pawn in a grand, twisted scheme.

He hadn' t just stolen my career and my husband; he was attempting to steal my very identity. My potential future. And graft it onto hers. The terror was overwhelming.

But underneath it, a cold, hard resolve began to form. They hadn't just broken me; they had awakened something fierce and unyielding.

I gripped the phone. Pushing past the terror. My mind, usually focused on the subtle nuances of architectural blueprints, now mapped out a different kind of plan.

There was a contact I had. Buried deep in my professional network. A distant relative of the Olsen family who handled their European branch. It was a long shot. A desperate gamble.

But I had nothing left to lose.

I would accept that overseas position. File for divorce. And contact the Olsen family to expose the fraud.

Cooper and Kennedy had built their empire on my ruins.

Now, I would watch it crumble.

My fingers flew across the keyboard. A surge of defiant energy replacing the despair.

This was not the end of Aubrey Burris.

This was the beginning.

Aubrey Burris POV:

The chill from last night still clung to me. It wasn't the temperature of the room. It was the icy grip of betrayal. I didn't waste another second. My phone was in my hand. Dialing the number I'd found last night. It connected to a discreet law firm. One I'd researched carefully, known for handling sensitive, high-profile cases.

"Good morning, Ms. Thorne," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Aubrey Burris here. I need to activate the divorce proceedings we discussed. Immediately."

A pause on the other end. "Ms. Burris, are you certain? Just last week, you seemed... hesitant." The lawyer, Ms. Thorne, sounded surprised. And a little skeptical.

"I am beyond certain," I stated. Each word a hammer blow against the lingering fragments of my old life. "There's no turning back now. The situation has... escalated." My voice was flat. Devoid of emotion.

"Very well. We'll get the paperwork ready. What grounds are you proceeding on?" she asked. Her tone now crisp and professional.

"Adultery, emotional abuse, financial manipulation, and identity fraud," I listed calmly. The words felt like a foreign language on my tongue. Yet they were my truth.

Another pause. Longer this time. "Identity fraud, Ms. Burris? That's a significant claim."

"It is," I agreed. "And I have reason to believe Cooper Mcknight has renounced his US citizenship. I need you to verify that. And initiate a full financial audit. Of all his assets. And those of Kennedy Patel."

"Renounced his citizenship?" Ms. Thorne repeated. A new note of urgency in her voice. "That complicates matters significantly. Especially with asset division."

"I don't care about the assets," I said. "I want nothing from him. Just my name back. And justice for what he's done." The lie about not caring about the assets was a small one. A necessary one. My real focus lay elsewhere.

"Understood," she replied. "We'll begin immediately. And the international contract you mentioned? The one with the Olsen Corporation's European branch?"

"It's confirmed," I said. "I'll be leaving the country by the end of the week. I need the divorce papers filed before I go. And I need this entire process to be as quiet as possible for now. No leaks to the press."

"A tall order, given Mr. Mcknight's public profile," Ms. Thorne mused. "But we'll do our best. I'll send you the initial documents shortly. Anything else?"

"Yes," I said. My voice dropping. "I also need you to investigate Kennedy Patel's background. Her supposed family connections. Everything."

"Consider it done, Ms. Burris. We'll be in touch." Ms. Thorne's voice faded. The call ended.

I stared at the phone. My new home, the one Cooper had meticulously curated for Kennedy, felt like a museum. Full of exquisite, soulless objects. Each piece a reminder of her. A sleek, minimalist sculpture stood where my grandmother' s antique rocking chair used to be. The vibrant, eclectic artwork I loved was replaced by stark, monochromatic prints. They echoed the emptiness in my chest.

A notification chimed on my laptop. An email. It was from the Olsen Corporation. A confirmation letter for my new position. Architectural translator, European division. My escape route was solidified.

I began to pack. Not just clothes. But every small item that was undeniably mine. The worn copy of my favorite architectural history book. A small, framed photo of Jonna and me laughing on a beach. The tiny ceramic bird I' d bought on our honeymoon, before the lies became so thick.

My marriage to Cooper wasn't a partnership. It was a gilded cage. A beautifully constructed trap. He had flattered me. Wooed me. Made me believe I was the center of his world. All while using me as a shield. As a stepping stone.

My wedding ring, a diamond as big as my thumbnail, felt heavy on my finger. A symbol of a love that was never real. I pulled it off. It left a pale indentation on my skin. I unwrapped the small velvet pouch I kept in my jewelry box. Inside lay a delicate silver locket. My grandmother's. It was the only piece of jewelry that truly belonged to me. A tangible connection to my own lineage. I slipped the locket on. The cold metal against my skin felt like a promise. A promise of my own truth.

I would leave the ring. A final, silent declaration of divorce from his lies.

A soft hum from downstairs. Cooper was home. And Kennedy. The familiar sound of their laughter drifted up. I froze. My hand hovering over a half-packed box. I crept to the top of the stairs. Peeking through the banister.

Cooper stood in the newly renovated kitchen. He was holding Kennedy close. His hand stroking her hair. Her head rested against his chest. She was wearing my silk robe. The pale blue one I' d worn this morning. The one he' d bought me for Valentine' s Day last year.

"My little architect," he murmured. His voice soft. The same endearment he used to use for me. The same tone of reverence. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. His eyes, usually guarded, were soft, adoring.

My vision blurred. A suffocating wave of jealousy and pain washed over me. I remembered standing in that very kitchen. Months ago. Cooper had been making breakfast. His arms wrapped around me from behind. My head nestled against his shoulder. We'd talked about renovations. About building a life.

He had promised me forever. "Aubrey, you're the only woman for me," he' d whispered into my hair. "My future. My everything." The words, once a comfort, now echoed as a cruel mockery.

I remembered the early days of our relationship. Cooper, the driven tech CEO. Always a little rough around the edges. A self-made man from humble beginnings. He had seemed so vulnerable beneath his ambition. So in need of my quiet strength. My understanding. He had spoken of a past heartbreak. A woman who had left him broken. I had believed I was healing him. Making him whole. Filling the void.

Now I knew. The void was always hers. Kennedy' s.

I remembered when I first met Kennedy years ago. The international scholarship. My design, a soaring, sustainable urban park. Weeks of sleepless nights. Passion pouring onto the blueprints. Then Kennedy' s presentation. Her design. Identical. My world had imploded. I' d seen her then as a cunning rival. A thief. But I hadn't truly seen the depth of her malice. Or the depth of Cooper's complicity.

Cooper, then fresh out of college, working his way up. He had swooped in. "Don't let her win, Aubrey," he' d said. "Fight for what's yours." He' d consoled me. Promised to help me expose her. But he never did. He just... proposed. And I, heartbroken and vulnerable, had accepted. Believing his love was my solace. My redemption.

Kennedy had always been there. A shadow. A whisper. Sometimes a direct insult. Like the time she publicly questioned my "architectural integrity" at a industry gala, knowing full well the plagiarism scandal. Or when she'd "accidentally" spilled red wine on my white dress at a charity event. Cooper had always dismissed it. "She's just jealous, sweetheart. You're far more talented."

He had always put her first. Always. Even when I discovered my original scholarship design had somehow "disappeared" from the competition archives, permanently erasing proof of Kennedy's theft. Cooper had merely shrugged. "Some things are beyond our control, Aubrey. Let it go."

His words now felt like blows. "It' s a shame you lost that scholarship, Aubrey," he' d said once, with a strange glint in his eye. "You could have been so much more." He' d subtly undermined me. Always.

He never loved me. He never even saw me. I was just a placeholder. A convenient shield.

"Sweetheart, you're just standing there," Kennedy's voice, sickly sweet, pierced through my thoughts. "Are you feeling unwell?" She stood next to Cooper, her hand resting delicately on his arm. A look of malicious triumph in her eyes. It was no longer subtle.

Cooper turned. His eyes, cold and distant now, met mine. "Aubrey. What are you doing down here?" His tone was sharp. Accusatory.

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated in my hand. Then again. And again. A rapid-fire succession of notifications. My heart pounded. The familiar dread returned.

I glanced down at the screen. My eyes widened in horror. It was Jonna. Her face, tear-streaked and distorted, stared back at me from a blurred image. A barrage of hateful comments scrolled beneath it. And then, a link. To a website. Filled with Jonna's most private photos. From her college days. Exposed. For the entire world to see.

Cooper had done it.

Aubrey Burris POV:

Cooper' s eyes, cold and unwavering, fixed on my face. "Did you tell Jonna to confront us at the airport?" he demanded. His voice was low. Dangerous.

A shiver ran down my spine. The air in the room grew heavy. "No," I said. My voice barely a whisper. My heart was a stone in my chest. "I told her to go home."

"Then why did she show up? Why did she make a scene?" He took a step closer. His presence felt menacing. "And now her private photos are online. I told you, Aubrey. Mess with me, and I'll make sure you regret it."

My hands clenched at my sides. My fingernails digging into my palms. I felt a cold dread spread through my body. He wasn't just threatening Jonna. He was threatening me. And he had followed through on his threat to Jonna.

"She was upset," I explained. My voice tight with unshed tears. "She cares about me. She saw you and Kennedy. She reacted." I swallowed hard. "It's my fault. She was defending me."

Cooper' s expression softened. Just a fraction. "I understand she was defending you. But she went too far. I had to protect Kennedy's reputation." He paused. His gaze flickering to Kennedy. Who stood quietly beside him. Her eyes wide and innocent. "The photos will be taken down. I've already instructed my team. But Jonna needs to learn her lesson."

"Her lesson?" I repeated. Disbelief coloring my voice. "You humiliated her. You exposed her most private moments. All because she spoke the truth!"

"The truth, Aubrey, is often inconvenient," Cooper snapped. The softness vanished. "And sometimes, inconveniences need to be handled. Now, about your little friend's photos. They will disappear. But only if you cooperate." His gaze held mine. An unspoken threat hung in the air.

Kennedy stepped forward. Her hand gently touching Cooper' s arm. "Cooper, darling, don't be too hard on Aubrey. She's clearly distressed." Her voice was a sugary facade. But her eyes, they gleamed with triumph. "It's all so messy. But I'm sure Aubrey understands."

Aubrey understands. The words were a fresh wound.

"I need a divorce, Cooper," I blurted out. The words felt foreign. Yet liberating.

Kennedy' s eyes widened. A slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, Aubrey! Really? That's... wonderful news!" Her false shock was replaced by unbridled glee. "Cooper, darling! This is it! Our chance!" She turned to him. Her eyes shining with a dangerous ambition. "The Olsen family mentioned it. They said if you were free, truly free, we could move forward with the... formal introductions. With them."

My blood ran cold. The Olsen family. My family. The family he was grooming Kennedy to impersonate.

Cooper looked at Kennedy. A flicker of something complicated in his eyes. Not love. Something darker. Possession. "Kennedy, not now."

"But darling, it's perfect! Aubrey wants out. You're free! We can finally make our arrangement official!" Kennedy insisted. Her voice rising with excitement.

Arrangement. The word hung in the air. Like a shroud.

"Arrangement?" I echoed. My voice barely audible.

Cooper turned to me. His face a mask of cold resolve. "Yes, Aubrey. An arrangement. Kennedy and I have a future together. A destiny. One that needed you out of the way. I proposed to you because you were a threat. You knew about Kennedy's plagiarism. You could have ruined everything." He paused. His eyes piercing mine. "And now that threat is gone. So yes, Kennedy is right. This is perfect. We can finally proceed with securing her rightful place."

Rightful place. My breath hitched. He was talking about my rightful place.

I remembered what Ms. Thorne had said. Renounced his citizenship... French marriage to heiress Kennedy Patel. He was already gone. Already married. Our marriage, my love, was nothing but a convenience. A smokescreen for his twisted loyalty to Kennedy.

And our anniversary. He hadn't just forgotten it. He had desecrated it. Made it the day he officially declared his true allegiance. To her.

I felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee. Away from him. Away from her. Away from this house. This nightmare. I turned to walk away. My legs felt like lead.

"Aubrey." Cooper' s voice stopped me. It was low. Warning. "Don't think this changes anything. You're still under my roof. You're still my wife. Until I decide otherwise."

I turned back slowly. My eyes met his. A cold fury now simmered beneath my despair.

"Don't try to get clever, Aubrey," he continued. Stepping closer. His voice a menacing whisper. "Don't try to take me to court. Don't try to make a scene. You saw what happened to Jonna. Imagine what I could do to you. To your career. To your reputation." He paused. A chilling smile touching his lips. "You exist because I allow it. Understand?"

His words. They weren't just a threat. They were a declaration of ownership. He saw me as a possession. A puppet. To be controlled. Humiliated.

A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. My lungs constricted. It felt like I was drowning. My head throbbed. The room spun. The image of Cooper and Kennedy, standing together, blurred into an indistinguishable mass of malice.

I stumbled back. Unable to meet his gaze. I retreated. Up the stairs. Into the empty shell of my bedroom. The door closed softly behind me. A fragile barrier against the storm.

My phone buzzed again. Jonna. "Aubrey? Are you okay? I'm so scared. Are you safe?"

Tears, hot and stinging, finally breached my eyelids. They streamed down my face. Silent. Relentless. I sank to the floor. My back against the cold wall. My body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't answer Jonna. Not yet.

The pain was suffocating. But beneath it, a sliver of clarity. A cold, hard resolve. This brokenness. This humiliation. It was the catalyst. It was the fire that would forge something new. The divorce. The escape. It would happen. No matter the cost.

I must have drifted into a fitful slumber. Half-dreaming, half-conscious. I felt a presence beside me. A hand gently stroking my hair. A warm breath on my cheek. Cooper. His presence. His scent. The ghost of a comfort I once knew. My heart, against my will, fluttered with a desperate hope. A longing for the man I thought I married.

Then, a harsh whisper in my mind. He doesn't love you. He never did. It's a trick. A manipulation.

I jolted awake. The room was empty. The bed untouched beside me. The hand, the warmth, the breath-all an illusion. A cruel trick of my exhausted mind. The heavy duvet lay half-collapsed on the floor. He must have used it last night. After he came home. Without me.

I glanced at my phone. The battery was dead. Of course. Another subtle form of control. He had probably removed the charger while I was asleep. Or perhaps it was dead from the notifications. I crawled to the bedside table. Plugging it in. As the screen flickered to life, I quickly checked Jonna' s pictures. They were gone. All traces wiped clean from the internet. He kept his word, in his own twisted way. For now.

I went downstairs. Cooper and Kennedy were already in the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and gourmet pastries filled the air. Cooper, dressed in a crisp suit, was stirring cream into Kennedy' s coffee. His back to me. She was perched on a stool at the island. Wearing a silk nightgown that was definitely not mine. Her hair, perfectly styled, cascaded over her shoulders.

"Cooper, darling," Kennedy said. Her voice a purr. "This is simply divine. You always know how to make my mornings perfect."

He turned. A soft smile on his face. "Only the best for you, my love." His eyes met mine briefly. Then slid away. As if I were invisible.

"Aubrey, joining us?" Kennedy asked. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. They held a glint of malice.

"I think I'll just have water," I replied. My voice tight. I couldn' t stomach anything. Not after seeing them.

"Oh, come on, Aubrey," Kennedy cajoled. Her tone condescending. "Cooper went to so much trouble. He even bought those special French croissants you like."

My favorite croissants. He used to buy them for me every Sunday. Now they were part of her morning ritual. A fresh wave of nausea washed over me.

"I'm not hungry," I said. Turning to leave.

"Aubrey, wait," Cooper said. His voice sharper now. "We have something important to discuss. Kennedy's arrival. Her future here. You need to be aware of the arrangements."

Arrangements. Again.

"There's nothing to discuss, Cooper," I said. My voice flat. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Kennedy gasped. A theatrical hand flying to her mouth. "But... where would you go, darling? You have no money. Your credit cards are canceled. And your career... well, let's just say it's been difficult for you lately. Hasn't it?" Her eyes glinted. "Unless... you're thinking of running to your little Olsen family, perhaps?"

My head snapped up. How did she know? How did she know about the Olsen family? My phone, the email, my secret contact...

Cooper' s face hardened. He slammed his hand on the marble counter. The sound cracked through the quiet kitchen. "Kennedy! That's enough!" He turned to me. His eyes blazing. "Aubrey, you will not leave. Not yet. You will stay here. And you will make Kennedy feel welcome." His voice was iron. "You will prepare this house for her. Every detail. Just as she likes it. This is your penance."

His words hit me like a physical blow. He wasn' t just controlling me. He was demanding I participate in my own humiliation. My own erasure.

A sudden, sharp ring cut through the tense silence. My phone. I glanced at the screen. Ms. Thorne. My lawyer.

Cooper' s eyes narrowed. "Who is that?" he demanded. His voice laced with suspicion.

I ignored him. My finger hovering over the answer button.

"Aubrey! Who is calling you?" His voice rose. A dangerous edge to it. He lunged for my phone.

I pulled back. Just as his hand reached mine. He grabbed my arm. Tightly. His fingers digging into my flesh. "Let go!" I cried. The phone slipped from my grasp. Clattering to the pristine marble floor. The screen cracked. A spiderweb of fractures.

The call connected. On speaker.

"Ms. Burris? I have an urgent update regarding Mr. Mcknight. And a rather... disturbing discovery about Miss Patel." Ms. Thorne's calm, professional voice filled the room.

Cooper froze. His grip on my arm loosened. His eyes darted between the broken phone and my face. A look of dawning horror.

"What?" Kennedy suddenly shrieked. Her composure shattering. "What is she talking about? Cooper, what did you do?"

Cooper released my arm. He stared at the shattered screen. His face pale. My arm throbbed. A red mark already forming on my skin. He had hurt me. Again.

"Ms. Burris, are you there?" Ms. Thorne's voice was insistent.

"Yes," I managed. My voice trembling. My eyes met Cooper' s. His face was a mask of fear. And rage. "I'm here."

"Good," Ms. Thorne continued. Oblivious to the chaos she had unleashed. "I have confirmation, Ms. Burris. Cooper Mcknight did indeed renounce his US citizenship. And he is already legally married to Kennedy Patel. In France. They have been for six months."

The words hung in the air. A death knell for everything I had ever believed.

Kennedy gasped. Her hand flying to her mouth. Not in shock. But in pure, unadulterated terror.

Cooper turned to me. His eyes wide. Unblinking. "Aubrey..." he whispered. His voice hoarse.

I stared at him. The cold realization finally settling in. He had never loved me. Not one moment. I was just a convenient lie. The pain was unbearable. Yet I felt strangely detached. As if I were watching a play unfold.

"And one more thing, Ms. Burris," Ms. Thorne's voice said. Clear and unwavering from the broken phone. "The DNA sample Mr. Mcknight provided? It was definitively not his own. And the Olsen family... they've been searching for their lost heiress for decades. They call her by a specific name. It's... quite unusual. Are you ready for this?"

My eyes, still locked with Cooper's, narrowed. The rage solidified. "Yes," I said. My voice a low, steady hum. "I'm ready."