The Unfortunate Card of Lies

For ten years, I waited for my childhood sweetheart, Adonis, to marry me. But every year, our future was delayed by a ridiculous family ritual where he had to draw a "Fortunate" tarot card. For three years, he drew the "Unfortunate" card, enduring brutal penance that left him scarred and broken. I believed it was fate.

Then, on the fourth year, I saw him draw the Fortunate card. My heart soared. We were finally free. But in a swift, practiced move, he swapped it for an Unfortunate one, choosing more suffering. I was frozen in shock.

Later, I overheard him confess to his cousin. He' d been swapping the cards for four years. He couldn't marry me yet because of his assistant, Ariel. She' d threatened to do something drastic if he left her. He said he owed her.

My world shattered. Every lash he took, every moment of pain I shared, was a lie. A charade performed for another woman. He had chosen his guilt for her over his love for me.

He even accused me of monstrous cruelty based on her lies, shouting, "I can't believe I wasted ten years on someone so vindictive. Apologize to Ariel. Now."

That was the moment I knew the man I loved was gone. So, I left. I flew to Hong Kong and married another man.

But just as I found my new beginning, Adonis burst in, his eyes wild with regret, begging me to come back. And right behind him was Ariel, her face twisted with madness, a gleaming knife in her hand.

Chapter 1

My stomach dropped, a cold, hard stone sinking through me as I watched Adonis' s hand move, quick and practiced, swapping the fortunate card for one of ill omen. The ancient, worn deck, blessed for generations by the Livingston matriarch, held our fate, or so I thought. For three years, it had held Adonis captive, forcing him into grueling penance, delaying our future. And now, in front of my very eyes, he was orchestrating our doom.

It was the fourth year of this ridiculous ritual, a sacred family tradition that dictated Adonis, the heir to the Livingston dynasty, could only marry his childhood sweetheart – me – after drawing a "Fortunate" tarot card. He' d failed three times. Each failure came with a price.

The first year, Adonis drew the "Unfortunate" card. He was subjected to a week of solitary meditation and fasting in the family's desolate mountain retreat. He came back skeletal, his eyes hollow, and collapsed the moment he saw me, landing him in the hospital for days. I hated that ritual. It was barbaric.

The second year, he drew it again. This time, the penance was physical. His back was lashed, not with a whip, but with ancient, knotted ropes, leaving grotesque welts that took months to heal. He didn't cry out once, but I heard his muffled grunts from behind the closed doors of the family chapel. I felt every strike deep in my own flesh. I begged his mother to stop it, but she was unyielding, her face a mask of stone.

The third year, the card, again, was "Unfortunate." The punishment then was a week-long trial by ice, where he was submerged in near-freezing mountain streams, stripped of warmth and comfort. He almost died from hypothermia. I remember the doctors shaking their heads, whispering about irreversible organ damage. I sat by his bedside, clutching his hand, tears streaming down my face, listening to his faint, ragged breaths. He looked at me, his lips blue, and managed a weak smile. "Just one more year, Ivory," he rasped, "then we're finally free."

I believed him. I always did. Each time, he emerged weaker, but his resolve, he claimed, burned brighter. He loved me. He had to. We were fated.

This year, I couldn't bear to watch him suffer alone. I had arrived, determined to share his penance, to prove my unwavering love and convince his rigid family that our bond was stronger than any superstition. I slipped into the shadows of the family chapel, my heart pounding, just as the matriarch placed the card deck before him.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and drew.

My heart leaped. The card, even from a distance, shimmered with a golden light. The matriarch's stern face softened, a faint smile touching her lips. It was fortunate. We were finally free. A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost buckled my knees.

Then, Adonis' s hand, so familiar, so beloved, moved with a subtle, practiced flick. The golden card vanished, replaced by a dull, somber one. The "Unfortunate" card. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't make a sound. My entire body froze, every muscle locked in place, my mind a blank, terrified canvas.

He nodded gravely to the matriarch, a picture of solemn resignation. "It seems my fate remains unchanged, Grandmother," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "The stars still conspire against me."

The matriarch sighed, her smile immediately fading. She nodded to Adonis's cousin, Brittain, who stood nearby. "Prepare the usual," she instructed, her voice laced with disappointment.

Brittain nodded, his gaze distant, already accepting the inevitable. He didn't question it. No one ever questioned it. It was the Livingston way. But I had seen it. I had seen everything.

My mind raced, trying to find an explanation, a reason. Why? Why would he do this? Why would he choose more pain, more delay, when freedom was literally in his hand? The betrayal hit me harder than any physical blow. It was a searing fire in my chest, turning everything I knew into ash. Was it for attention? Was it a sick game? No, Adonis wasn't cruel. He couldn't be. This had to be a mistake.

Then, I heard voices from just around the corner, near the old stone archway. Adonis and Brittain.

"Are you insane, Adonis?" Brittain's voice was low, laced with exasperation. "Another year? You actually drew the Fortunate card this time! We all saw it!"

Adonis' s voice was weary, almost defeated. "I couldn't, Brittain. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Brittain scoffed. "Ivory came all this way, ready to jump into the fire with you! She' s been through hell because of this stupid ritual, because of you! How much more can she take?"

Adonis sighed, a deep, shuddering sound that pierced my heart. "I know. I see it every time she looks at me. But what about Ariel? She's been my shadow for eight years. Eight years, Brittain. She gave up everything to follow me, to work for me. She loves me. She told me last night she can't bear the thought of me marrying someone else. She said she'd leave, disappear, do something drastic if I went through with it."

My blood ran cold. Ariel. Ariel Vaughn. His assistant. The quiet, mousy girl who always seemed to be lurking in the periphery. Eight years. He' d known her for eight years. The same eight years we' d been engaged.

"And you believe her?" Brittain's voice was sharp. "You think she'd actually do something? Or is she just manipulating you? Because it sounds a lot like manipulation to me, Adonis. You're sacrificing Ivory, your future, for a manipulative assistant. And what about Ivory? You have no idea what she' s been through-what we' ve been through, because of your... guilt. Your obligation."

"It's not just manipulation," Adonis countered, his voice sounding genuinely pained. "Her family, her background... she's got nothing, Brittain. I'm all she has. She's sacrificed so much for me. I owe her."

"You owe her?" Brittain repeated, disbelief heavy in his tone. "You owe Ivory your loyalty, your honesty, your entire future! Not Ariel, who clings to you like a siren to a shipwreck. This isn't charity, Adonis. This is your life. And Ivory's."

"I just need one more year," Adonis pleaded, his voice cracking. "One more year to figure it out. To make sure she's settled, safe. Then I' ll marry Ivory, I swear."

"One more year?" Brittain laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You've been saying that for four years, Adonis. Four years you' ve drawn the 'Fortunate' card and swapped it for the 'Unfortunate' one. Four years you've subjected yourself to this torture, and Ivory to hers. And for what? For Ariel? Do you even hear yourself?"

My world shattered. Four years. He' d done this for four years. Every lashing, every hypothermic fever, every agonizing moment of pain I' d watched him endure, had been a charade. A lie. He had chosen it. He had chosen Ariel over me, over our future, over our love. The golden light of the fortunate card, the hope it represented, had been a cruel trick, a mirage he himself had conjured and then destroyed.

I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. The physical pain was a dull throb compared to the gaping wound in my chest. My head spun, a nauseating vortex of betrayal and disbelief. Ariel. It was always Ariel. The quiet assistant I' d barely registered, who had subtly, insidiously, woven herself into the fabric of Adonis' s life, becoming the silent, destructive force between us.

Every loving glance he' d given me, every tender touch, every promise of forever whispered during those endless hospital nights-they were all tainted now. A web of lies, carefully spun, designed to keep me tethered while he played a dangerous game of obligation and guilt with another woman. My breath hitched, a silent sob tearing through my throat. Adonis Livingston, the man I loved, my childhood sweetheart, was a liar. And he had chosen her.

My mother' s voice pulled me back from the precipice of despair. "Ivory? Are you there? How did it go? Are you and Adonis finally getting married?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing a trembling hand to my lips to stifle the cry threatening to escape. I couldn't speak, not a single word. My throat was tight, my chest aching. The phone felt like a lead weight in my hand.

"Ivory?" Her voice, usually so strong, now held a tremor of concern. "Your silence... did he draw the Unfortunate card again?" She paused, a heavy sigh on the other end. "I understand, sweetheart. I truly do. But darling, this can't go on. You deserve happiness. Real happiness. Not this endless cycle of pain."

Her words were a balm and a sting. Pain. Yes, endless pain. But now, I knew it wasn't fate. It was a choice. His choice.

"Your father and I... we've moved the family business to Hong Kong entirely now," she continued, her voice softer, almost pleading. "It' s a new beginning for us. And darling, there' s someone here... someone who has always admired you. He' s stable, kind, and he would cherish you."

I listened, numb. Haven McKnight. My mother had mentioned him before, a powerful magnate from Hong Kong, someone I' d met briefly as a child. I'd dismissed it as idle matchmaking, never thinking it would become my desperate escape route.

"Think about it, Ivory," my mother urged. "You' ve given him so many years. Four years of this... this charade. You deserve more than crumbs, my love."

Crumbs. That was exactly what I' d been living on. Scraps of affection, veiled by lies. My vision blurred. Four years. Four years of waiting, of believing, of sharing his manufactured suffering. I had come here today ready to sacrifice myself, to endure his penance, only to discover his elaborate deceit. I had wasted so much time, so much love, on a ghost of a man. The thought made my stomach churn. My naivety now felt like a heavy cloak of shame.

"I' ll do it, Mom," I whispered, the words barely audible, but firm. "Arrange it. I' ll marry Haven."

A relieved sigh flowed through the phone line. "My dear girl. I knew you were strong enough to make the right choice. I' ll handle everything. Just... stay strong."

I hung up, my hand shaking. The decision was made. No more uncertainty. No more lies.

I knew Adonis would be emerging from the chapel any minute, pale and weakened from his self-inflicted penance. I saw Brittain directing paramedics to bring a stretcher. My heart twisted. A part of me, the old, naive Ivory, still wanted to rush to him, to comfort him. But the new Ivory, the one who had just witnessed his betrayal, held back. I wiped the tears from my face, forcing my expression into a mask of calm. He wouldn't see me break. Not now. Not ever again.

He emerged, supported by two burly men, his face etched with familiar pain, his eyes glazed with exhaustion. He spotted me, and a flicker of panic crossed his face. He clearly hadn't expected me to be there, or to be so composed.

I just gave him a small, tight smile. "You look tired, Adonis," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

He let out a shaky breath, a wave of relief washing over him. He must have thought I hadn't seen anything. "Ivory," he rasped, his voice weak. "I told you not to come. I don't want you to see me like this." He tried to reach for me, but his arms were too weak. "I'm so sorry, my love. Another year. I promise, next year, we'll finally get married."

My smile didn't falter, but inside, I scoffed. Next year? There won't be a next year, Adonis. Not for us.

The paramedics gently loaded him onto the stretcher. He looked so vulnerable, so pathetic, yet my heart remained a block of ice. We were loaded into the family car for the drive to the hospital. He laid his head on my shoulder, his breath shallow. "It was so hard this time, Ivory," he mumbled, his voice a child's. "But thinking of you... it got me through."

I looked at the fresh welts on his back, the angry red lines crisscrossing his pale skin. A wave of bitter irony washed over me. All this pain, self-inflicted for a lie. It was a grotesque parody of love.

Brittain, sitting opposite us, looked at Adonis with a mix of pity and exasperation. "Don't let her wait too long, Adonis," he said, his voice quiet, but firm. "Some women don't wait forever, even for a Livingston."

Adonis chuckled weakly. "Ivory? She'd wait for me until the end of time. She knows I'm worth it. Right, my love?" He squeezed my hand, his gaze searching.

I simply patted his cheek, offering another empty smile. You think so, Adonis? You're about to find out how wrong you are.

At the hospital, they whisked him away to a private room. I sat in the waiting area, my mind numb, replaying the scene in the chapel, the conversation between Adonis and Brittain. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, forming a picture of manipulation and betrayal that was almost too painful to comprehend.

He was finally settled in his room, looking slightly better after receiving fluids and pain medication. He reached for my hand, his eyes filled with a manufactured tenderness. "I missed you, Ivory. Every second of this penance, I thought of you."

Before I could respond, the door burst open. Ariel Vaughn stood there, her eyes red and puffy, her usually neat hair disheveled. She looked frantic, raw. My blood ran cold, recognizing the face of my tormentor.

"Adonis! Oh, Adonis!" she cried, rushing to his side, practically pushing me away. "Why did you do it again? Why do you keep punishing yourself for her? You know how much I love you! How much I need you!"

Adonis flinched, his eyes darting to me, a flash of panic in their depths. "Ariel, what are you doing here? Get out!" he hissed, his voice surprisingly strong despite his injuries.

"Get out?" Ariel' s voice rose, laced with hysteria. "After everything I' ve done for you? After all these years I've stood by you, watched you suffer, while she lives her perfect life, waiting for you to jump through hoops? Don't you see, Adonis? She's not worth it! She's never been there for you like I have! She doesn't understand you, not like I do!"

She grabbed his hand, clutching it desperately. "Just give her up, Adonis! Please! Let her go. You belong with me. You know you do. You're tired of this, aren't you? Of this endless charade for a woman who doesn't truly appreciate your sacrifices?"

Adonis ripped his hand away, his face hardening into a mask of pure fury. "How dare you, Ariel? How dare you speak that way about Ivory? She is my fiancée, my future wife! I love her! And I will only ever marry her! You are nothing but my employee, and you will remember that!" he roared, his voice echoing through the room.

Ariel recoiled, her face turning ashen. Her eyes, filled with tears, looked utterly broken. "But... but you said..." she choked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I said nothing!" Adonis snapped, his gaze burning into her. "Go! Get out of here right now! If you ever speak another word against Ivory, you're fired! Do you understand me?"

Ariel stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with pain and disbelief. She shook her head slowly, a single tear tracing a path down her pale cheek, and then she turned and bolted from the room, a strangled sob escaping her lips.

Adonis watched her go, his jaw tight. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he turned to me, his face softening, a forced tenderness returning to his eyes. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured, reaching for my hand. "She's just... a bit overly emotional. She doesn't mean it. You know I only have eyes for you."

I let him hold my hand, but my gaze had drifted to his other hand, the one Ariel had clutched. His fingers, usually so relaxed, were still coiled tight, the knuckles white beneath the skin. A flicker of something-not anger, but a deep, complex emotion-had passed through his eyes when he' d looked at Ariel. It wasn't the look of a man who only felt pity for an employee. It was the look of a man who was deeply, inextricably entangled.

I remembered Adonis laughing with me, promising me the moon and stars, and I felt a fresh wave of nausea. He used to be so open, so direct. We used to share everything. I used to think I knew him better than anyone. He was my rock, my first and only love. Now, I saw a stranger. A manipulative man who could switch his emotions like a light.

"Adonis," I said, my voice flat, "how long has Ariel been your assistant?"

He stiffened, pulling his hand away slightly. "Oh, you know, a few years. Time flies." He chuckled, a nervous, forced sound.

"How many?" I pressed, my gaze unwavering.

He hesitated, then sighed. "Maybe... six years? Around that. But she's just an assistant, Ivory. You know how demanding my job is. She handles all the mundane stuff."

Six years. Not eight, as Brittain had said. Brittain, who had warned him. Brittain, who had called it manipulation. Brittain, who had called it a charade for four years.

"I see," I said, a chilling calm settling over me. "And if she continues to cause problems?"

He puffed out his chest, a flash of his old arrogance returning. "Then I'll fire her, of course. Immediately. No one disrespects my fiancée."

His words were cold, sharp, but they held no weight for me. My heart, still reeling from the earlier betrayal, now felt like a block of ice. He was lying. He was lying to Ariel, and he was lying to me. He would never fire her. He was too tied to her, by guilt, by obligation, or something far deeper he refused to acknowledge. He had kept her close, allowed her to believe in a twisted version of reality, all while stringing me along with empty promises.

The man before me was a hollow shell of the Adonis I once knew. A master of deception, weaving a tangled web of lies and manufactured emotions. He didn't just love me less; he loved me differently from her. And that difference was a chasm I could no longer bridge.

A suffocating feeling pressed down on me. I couldn' t breathe the air in that hospital room, thick with Adonis' s lies and Ariel' s desperate pleas. I mumbled something about needing fresh air and practically ran out, leaving Adonis looking confused and hurt. Good. He deserved it.

The city outside was a blur as I hailed a taxi, my mind a chaotic mess of images and words. Four years. Ariel. She can' t bear the thought of me marrying someone else. You owe her. Each phrase was a fresh stab to my heart.

When I finally reached my apartment, I collapsed onto the cool hardwood floor, the strength draining from my limbs. Tears, hot and furious, streamed down my face, blurring the familiar contours of my living room, the room I had once filled with dreams of a shared future with him.

As I fumbled for my keys, a small, worn leather keychain slipped from my bag and clattered to the floor. It was a gift from Adonis, years ago. Attached to it was a faded photograph of us from high school: two grinning teenagers, our arms wrapped around each other, his head nestled against mine. We were at the annual school dance, our eyes shining with innocent adoration. He had whispered "forever" that night, his breath warm against my ear. "We'll always be together, Ivory. You're my destiny."

I traced his smiling face with a trembling finger, remembering the pure, unadulterated joy of that moment. He had been so earnest, so devoted. What happened to that boy? When did he become this tangled, deceitful man? The realization that he had knowingly, repeatedly chosen to hurt me, to build our future on a foundation of lies, was a physical ache. He had allowed Ariel, his pathetic, manipulative assistant, to worm her way into his heart, making her the keeper of his guilt and obligation. He had let her poison our love. And I, like a fool, had swallowed every bitter drop.

"No," I whispered, the word a raw, guttural sound torn from my throat. "No more."

My destiny was not to be tied to a man who saw me as a burden to be appeased while he managed another woman' s emotions. My destiny was not a future built on manufactured pain and hollow promises. My destiny was in my own hands. I was leaving. I was going to Hong Kong. I was going to marry Haven.

The thought of never returning, of leaving this life, this city, this apartment behind, was both terrifying and liberating. It was the only way to truly sever the ties that bound me to Adonis and his lies.

I stood up, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. The time for crying was over. The time for action had begun. I started systematically clearing out my apartment, every item a poignant reminder of a life that was now over. Each photograph, each gift, each shared memory was carefully placed into boxes. The process was agonizing, a brutal excavation of my heart. Adonis had been so woven into the fabric of my life, every corner of this apartment held a piece of him. Even the simple act of choosing a favorite mug felt like an act of betrayal against my past self. How could I discard so much history? So much love?

But I had to. I had to rip him out. Every single piece.

I even decided to sell the apartment. It was the only way to truly make a clean break, to ensure there was no lingering trace of our shared past. This physical act of dismantling my life was a mirror to the emotional surgery I was performing on myself.

Over the next few days, Adonis sent a flurry of texts and calls. "Are you okay, my love?" "Why aren't you replying?" "I miss you." "Can I come over?" I read them all, a cold detachment settling in my core. I replied with short, vague answers, claiming I was busy packing, tired, or just needed space. He accepted it, always accepting my excuses, never pushing too hard, confident in my unwavering devotion. His confidence solidified my resolve. He truly believed he owned me.

After the whirlwind of selling the apartment and arranging everything with my mother, the legal papers and documents for my new life were almost complete. That evening, just as I finished signing the last of the paperwork for the apartment sale, my phone rang. It was Adonis.

"Ivory! My love! Guess what? I'm out of the hospital!" His voice was light, cheerful, as if nothing had happened. "And I have the most amazing surprise for you! We need to make up for lost time. Our anniversary is coming up, remember? I've got something special planned."

The anniversary. Our tenth year. A decade of a love that was now, for me, nothing but ash.

"Where are you?" I asked, my voice calm, almost emotionless. My heart didn't flutter. It was a cold, steady drumbeat. This was it. The final act.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, sounding pleased. "Just tell me where to go. And get ready, something amazing is coming!"

"No need," I replied, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. "I'll save you the trip. I'm actually at our old spot, the one where you first told me you loved me." I gave him the address of the restaurant, the very place where our young love had blossomed. It felt fitting. The beginning and the end.

This wasn't about a surprise anymore. This was about closure. For me, at least. He had no idea what was coming.