Thirteen Years Of His Lies

For thirteen years, I waited for my fiancé, Brandon. Our marriage was blocked ninety-nine times by his family's board, or so he told me. Each time, he'd accept a public corporate penalty, playing the martyr for our love.

But on the day of the 100th vote, I overheard the truth. The board had approved our marriage every single time. He was the one sabotaging it, fabricating issues to appease his manipulative adopted sister, Kendal.

That night, at a "surprise party," he kissed her with a passion he hadn't shown me in years. When I later confronted him about her lies, he shoved me. I fell, my head splitting open on the coffee table.

As I lay bleeding on the floor, he didn't help me. He stood over me, protecting his crying sister.

"Apologize to Kendal, Averi."

That's when I finally saw him for the weak man he was. I wiped the blood from my face, walked out of the life we built, and accepted the marriage proposal from his biggest rival.

Chapter 1

The soft lamplight cast long shadows across Brandon' s muscular back as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips tasted of the expensive whiskey he favored, a familiar comfort. My fingers traced the scar above his hipbone, a souvenir from a childhood dare. Thirteen years. A lifetime, it felt like. We were so close. The 100th vote, the one that would finally make us truly official, was just hours away.

"Relax, Averi," he mumbled against my neck, his breath warm. "It' s going to be fine. This time, I feel it."

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But a tremor of unease, cold and sharp, snaked through me. It wasn't the usual pre-vote jitters. Something felt off. His touch, usually so electric, seemed to hum with a strange, almost frantic energy tonight.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "You okay?"

I forced a smile. "Just... tired. It' s been a long five years, Brandon."

He nodded, running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. He was the epitome of a Scott, handsome and commanding, a natural-born CEO. He had to be. The Scott family conglomerate demanded nothing less.

"I know, baby. I know." His voice was laced with an exhaustion that seemed to pierce through his polished facade. "But we' re almost there. One more hurdle."

He cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. "It kills me, Averi, that you' ve had to go through this. All those public corporate penalties, the scrutiny. It' s unfair."

I leaned into his touch, trying to draw reassurance from it. It was true. Each failed vote, each "last-minute complication," had resulted in Brandon having to publicly accept a corporate penalty. A show of commitment, the board called it. A demonstration that he was willing to suffer for his choices. For our choice.

"It' s okay," I whispered, even though it wasn't. It never had been. "We' ll get through it. Together."

He nodded again, though his eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher. A shadow, perhaps. Or a secret. He held me tighter then, almost crushing me, as if trying to merge us into one, to protect us from the outside world. Or perhaps, from something within himself.

Later, as he slept beside me, his breathing deep and even, I found myself staring at the ceiling. The unease hadn't faded. Instead, it had grown, a knot tightening in my stomach. Brandon, the powerful, charismatic CEO, was a different man in the boardroom. Ruthless, decisive, sharp. But when it came to our marriage, to these endless board votes, he was... soft. Almost passive. He always accepted the board's decision with a sigh, a shrug, a look of profound resignation that always seemed to say, What can I do? It' s family tradition.

But something in his eyes tonight, an almost manic glint, chipped away at that familiar narrative. A cold dread settled over me. It was like watching a play, a performance I had seen ninety-nine times before, and suddenly noticing an actor miss a cue, a prop out of place. The illusion was fragile, threatening to crack.

I had a terrible feeling. A premonition, cold and clear, that this 100th vote would be the final act. Not because we would finally win, but because something would irrevocably break. Our story, the one I had poured thirteen years of my life into, felt like it was nearing its end. A final, painful curtain call.

The Scott family. Their influence permeated every aspect of our lives. Their foundation' s board held the ultimate power over any marriage involving a direct heir, especially the CEO. Unanimous approval was required. Not just a majority. Unanimous. A tradition, they called it. A safeguard against weakening the dynasty.

For five years, we had faced this tradition. Ninety-nine times, the vote had failed. Ninety-nine times, a "last-minute complication" had arisen. Ninety-nine times, Brandon had accepted his public corporate penalty with that same weary, regretful sigh. Each time, I tried to convince myself that he was doing his best, that he was fighting for us against an insurmountable force.

But the sheer repetition, the identical nature of the failures, had begun to grate. It was a pattern, too perfect to be accidental. And I was tired of being a pawn in whatever game this was.

This time, I decided, I wouldn' t just wait. I would act. I would be there. I would see for myself.

I slipped out of bed as dawn broke, leaving Brandon undisturbed. My mind was made up. I would go to the board meeting myself. Not to interfere, not to plead, but to simply... observe. To finally understand what mystical force kept derailing our future. I quickly dressed in a sleek, professional suit. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This wasn't just about a vote anymore. It was about trust. About truth.

The Scott Corporation headquarters loomed against the morning sky, a monolith of glass and steel. I took a deep breath, the cold air burning my lungs. My polished heels clicked against the marble floors as I made my way to the executive boardroom on the top floor. The air grew heavy with anticipation, or perhaps, with my own dread, as I approached. I found a discreet alcove just outside the closed doors, a small service entrance often used by staff. From here, I could hear everything.

The muffled voices inside rose and fell, a serious symphony of power. I strained my ears, my heart hammering. Then, a voice, clear and distinct, cut through the hum. It was Brandon.

"I understand, gentlemen," he said, his tone surprisingly firm, almost relieved. "It seems we have yet another... unforeseen issue."

Unforeseen issue? My blood ran cold. Again?

A collective sigh, then a chorus of murmurs from the board members.

"Ah, Brandon, my boy," an older voice boomed, likely old Mr. Harrison, the family patriarch. "One hundred votes, and still no consensus. A true test of your resilience, wouldn' t you say?"

My breath hitched. One hundred votes. They had gone through with it. And it had failed again. My mind reeled. This was it. The breaking point. After all this time, all this waiting, all this hope...

Then I heard something that made the world tilt on its axis.

"Actually, Mr. Harrison," Brandon said, his voice now devoid of any pretense of resignation, almost cheerful, "the vote actually passed. Unanimously, as a matter of fact."

My body went rigid. The blood drained from my face, leaving my skin clammy and cold. Passed? Unanimously? But he had just said there was an "unforeseen issue." What was happening? My mind struggled to process this sudden, violent contradiction. It was as if someone had pulled a rug from under my feet, only to reveal a gaping chasm beneath.

A stunned silence fell in the room, then Harrison' s voice, sharp with suspicion. "Passed? Then what is this 'unforeseen issue' you speak of, Brandon? Don' t toy with us."

Brandon chuckled. A dry, humorless sound that felt like a slap across my face. "Well, you see, I... I fabricated it. Again."

A collective gasp from the board. My vision blurred. Fabricated it? He fabricated it? The words echoed in my head, a cruel, mocking refrain. He had been orchestrating this? All this time?

"Brandon!" Harrison' s voice was pure thunder now. "Have you lost your mind? Why in God' s name would you do such a thing? Do you have any idea the implications of this deception?"

I pressed my back against the wall, my knees threatening to give out. My world, the one built on thirteen years of shared dreams and unspoken promises, was crumbling around me.

"It' s Kendal," Brandon said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "She... she found out the vote was about to pass. She had another one of her episodes. Threatened to... well, to do things. Bad things."

Kendal. His adopted sister. My stomach churned. The "last-minute complications" weren't random acts of fate. They were Kendal' s emotional outbursts, weaponized against our future, with Brandon as her willing accomplice.

"Kendal Scott?" another board member scoffed. "The girl who works as your executive assistant? You mean to tell me you' ve sabotaged your own marriage, a hundred times, because of her 'episodes' ?"

"She' s my sister," Brandon said, his voice hardening. "She' s been through a lot. And she depends on me. She relies on me, emotionally. She believes if I marry Averi, I' ll abandon her. She can' t cope with it."

"And Averi Reed? The woman you' ve supposedly loved for thirteen years?" Harrison pressed, his voice laced with disgust. "What about her emotional well-being? Her commitment? Her years of waiting?"

Brandon was silent for a long moment. I imagined him running a hand over his face, that familiar gesture of exasperation. "Averi... she' s strong. She understands. She knows my history with Kendal."

No, Brandon. I don' t understand. My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I don' t understand any of this.

"You told her it was the board, didn' t you?" Harrison' s voice was cold. "You let her believe we were the obstacles."

"She wouldn' t have accepted it otherwise," Brandon admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "She wouldn' t have understood Kendal' s... needs."

"So you' d rather she believe we are cruel, archaic traditionalists than face your sister' s manipulative behavior?"

Brandon sighed. "It' s not manipulation, sir. It' s... fragility. She truly believes she' ll be alone. And after what she' s been through, I can' t... I can' t be the one to push her over the edge."

My mind flashed back to Kendal. Outwardly fragile, yes. Pitiable, perhaps. But always lurking beneath the surface was an intense, almost obsessive possessiveness towards Brandon. I had seen it, dismissed it as a sister' s affection. Now, it was clear. She wasn' t just fragile. She was a weapon. And Brandon was her shield.

"And so, you will accept the corporate penalty, I presume?" Harrison asked, his voice dripping with ironic detachment.

"Yes, sir," Brandon replied, his voice firm again. "I will. It' s a small price to pay to keep the peace."

Peace. My future, my dignity, my entire relationship, reduced to keeping the peace with a manipulative woman.

A choked sob escaped my lips, but I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. I had to get out. Before they heard me. Before he heard me. The pain was too immense, too suffocating to contain. It was a physical ache, deep in my chest, tearing through my very soul. My knees finally buckled, and I slid down the wall, clutching my chest, gasping for air. The marble floor was cold against my cheek, mirroring the coldness that had just seeped into my heart.

The rhythmic vibration of my phone startled me, cutting through the haze of my agony. It was a call from my aunt, a distant relative but the closest thing I had to family since my parents passed. I fumbled with the phone, my fingers clumsy with shock, and answered.

"Averi, dear? How did it go?" she asked, her voice bright and hopeful. "Did the Scotts finally see sense? Are you and Brandon finally setting a date?"

Her words twisted the knife in my gut. What could I say? Oh, it went wonderfully, Aunt. Brandon passed the vote, only to fabricate a problem because his adopted sister threw a tantrum. He' s been doing it for five years. He lied to me, to everyone, to appease her. The words caught in my throat, a bitter, metallic taste.

"Averi? Are you there?"

My voice was a raw, broken whisper. "Aunt... I..." I couldn' t form the words. The betrayal was too fresh, too profound.

"Oh, darling, don' t tell me it' s happened again," her voice softened, laced with a familiar disappointment. "That family... they' ll never truly accept you, will they? Brandon is a fool to let them string him along like this."

She was closer to the truth than she knew, yet so far from the depths of the actual deception.

"You know," she continued, her tone shifting, becoming more decisive, "my old friend, Mr. Riddle. You know, Diego Riddle, from Riddle Industries? He' s been asking about you. He' s always admired your work, your spirit. He actually proposed to me, for you, a while back. I told him you were engaged, but... well, he' s a persistent man. And a good man, Averi. A very good man. He' s looking for a wife, someone to build a future with, a real partner. Not someone to keep hidden away for years."

Diego Riddle. The name, a stark contrast to Brandon' s, jolted me. Diego. The rival CEO, the man who had always looked at me with open admiration, never the veiled pity or patronizing understanding I often saw in others' eyes when Brandon' s family was mentioned. He was stable, decisive, and he had always treated me with respect. He had seen me, Averi Reed, not just Brandon Scott' s perpetually waiting fiancée.

My aunt paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Averi, you deserve better. You deserve a man who puts you first, unequivocally. A man who isn' t afraid to fight for you, not against you. Think about it, darling. Move on. Build a new life. A real life."

The words resonated deep within me, a siren song of hope in the desolate landscape of my shattered engagement. A real life. With a real partner. My mind, still reeling from Brandon' s confession, made a sudden, stark decision.

"Aunt," I said, my voice hoarse but firm, "Tell Mr. Riddle... tell Diego I accept."

The phone call ended, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. My aunt's words, Diego' s name, echoed in the empty space where my heart used to be. Brandon emerged from the boardroom, his face a mask of strained composure. He saw me, frozen in the alcove, and his eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with a flicker of panic. His perfectly coiffed hair was slightly disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual impeccable appearance. He looked like a man caught in a lie, which, of course, he was.

"Averi?" he breathed, his voice a ragged whisper. "What are you doing here?"

I looked at him, my gaze unwavering, cold. "I just heard the verdict," I said, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion. I watched his face crumple, the color draining from his cheeks. His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching uncontrollably. He knew what I meant. He knew I had heard everything.

He took a step towards me, his hand reaching out, but I recoiled, a visceral reaction that surprised even myself. "Averi, baby, I can explain," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please, just let me explain. It' s not what you think."

It is exactly what I think, Brandon. It' s worse.

He tried to gather his thoughts, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. "I... I know it sounds bad. But Kendal, she was really struggling. She needs me. I couldn' t just... abandon her."

I watched him, a hollow ache in my chest. He was still trying to justify it. Still prioritizing her. He looked so genuinely distraught, so pitiful. For a fleeting second, a pang of my old affection stirred, a whisper of the girl who had loved him for thirteen years. But it was quickly drowned out by the roaring tide of betrayal and anger.

"I heard the part about the corporate penalty," I said, my voice still eerily calm. "You fabricating the issue. You accepting the punishment. All for her."

His shoulders slumped. He looked defeated, exposed. "Averi, please. Just a little more time. I' ll fix this, I swear. I' ll talk to Kendal. I' ll make her understand. We' ll get married, I promise. This time, for real."

His words, once the most precious sounds in the world, now felt like ash in my mouth. A little more time? After five years? After a hundred deliberate sabotages? How much more time could he possibly ask for? My silence was my answer. My pain was a physical weight, pressing down on my lungs, making it impossible to speak.

Before he could say anything more, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled, clutching his arm. I noticed then, for the first time, a dark stain spreading on the sleeve of his expensive suit jacket. He had accepted his "penalty." A deep gash, bleeding freely. He must have done it after the board vote, a show for them, a self-inflicted wound to maintain his facade of martyrdom.

"Brandon!" I gasped, a reflex, despite my shattered heart.

He grimaced, pain flashing in his eyes. "It' s fine. Just... a scratch."

But it wasn't. The wound looked deep. He needed medical attention. My lawyer's brain kicked in, detached and practical, overriding the emotional devastation for a moment.

We ended up in the emergency room. The fluorescent lights hummed, casting a sterile glow on Brandon' s pale face. A doctor cleaned and stitched the wound, administering a tetanus shot. I sat in a plastic chair in the waiting room, watching him through the glass. The distance felt appropriate. Necessary.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. Kendal, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face streaked with tears, rushed in. She wore a flimsy silk blouse, her dark hair disheveled, as if she had just rolled out of bed. She spotted Brandon, her gaze fixing on his bandaged arm, and a strangled cry escaped her lips.

"Brandon! What happened?!" she shrieked, rushing towards him, oblivious to the doctor' s warning. "Oh my God, your arm! Who did this to you?!"

She turned, her furious gaze sweeping the room, landing on me like a venomous dart. "You! It was you, wasn' t it? You pushed him! You drove him to this!"

My jaw dropped. Her audacity, her immediate assumption of my malice, stunned me into silence.

Brandon, despite his pain, pushed her away, his voice sharp and unyielding. "Kendal, stop. This has nothing to do with Averi. It' s my business. Stay out of it."

His harsh tone seemed to shock her. She froze, her mouth agape, tears welling in her eyes. The picture of wounded innocence, just as he had described her.

"But... but Brandon," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I just... I was so worried about you. You didn' t come home last night. I thought something terrible had happened."

"I told you to stay home," he stated, his voice cold. "This is not your concern."

Her shoulders shook, and a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face. She looked at Brandon, then at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of heartbreak and pure, unadulterated hatred. She whirled around and fled from the emergency room, her sobs echoing in the quiet corridor.

I watched her go, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. Pity, perhaps, for her obvious distress. But mostly, a chilling clarity. This was the 'fragility' Brandon spoke of. This was the manipulation.

Brandon turned to me, his gaze pleading. "Averi, I swear, she just gets like that sometimes. She doesn' t mean it. She' s just... emotionally unstable."

"Emotionally unstable," I repeated, the words tasting like poison. "Or deeply manipulative."

"No!" he insisted, perhaps a little too vehemently. "She' s not. She' s just... scared. She lost her parents young, Averi. She clings to me. She' s terrified of being alone."

"And you allow her to use that fear to control you," I stated, not as a question, but as a plain, undeniable fact. "To control our lives."

He winced, the truth in my words visibly striking him. "I' m going to fix this, Averi," he said, his voice filled with a desperate earnestness. "I' m going to send her away. Get her the help she needs. I promise. Just... don' t leave me."

Don' t leave me. The words hung in the air, weighted with years of unspoken expectations and unfulfilled promises. But it was too late. The words from my aunt, Diego' s name, had already planted a different seed in my mind. A seed of escape. Of freedom.

I looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time, I saw not the man I loved, but a man trapped. A man whose weakness had become a weapon against me. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep into my bones, that I could no longer be a part of his gilded cage.

"I' m leaving, Brandon," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it rang with the force of a final decree.

His eyes widened, reflecting a raw, primal fear. "What? No! Averi, you can' t. Where would you go?"

"Somewhere far away," I replied, my gaze drifting to the window, to the city lights twinkling in the distance. "Somewhere I can breathe."

He tried to argue, to plead, but his words were muffled by the sterile efficiency of the hospital. I simply turned and walked away, leaving him to his physical pain and his emotional prison.

The next few days were a blur of cold, detached efficiency. I submitted my resignation from my lucrative corporate law position, arranging for its transfer to an international branch of my firm. The shock of Brandon' s betrayal had been so profound that it had almost numbed me, allowing me to handle the logistics with a calm I didn't truly feel. Each document signed, each email sent, was another step away from the life I had built with him, another brick laid on the path to my new, unknown future.

Brandon called countless times, his messages escalating from pleading to desperate. I ignored them all. I was leaving. There was nothing left to say.

The day before my departure, he called again, his voice filled with an almost manic excitement. "Averi! Great news! My arm is healing perfectly. And I' ve got a surprise for you! A special celebration. Just for us. Tomorrow night. I' ll pick you up at seven."

A surprise. A celebration. He still didn' t get it. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was so completely oblivious to the crater he had left in my life.

The next evening, at precisely seven, Brandon' s luxury sedan pulled up. Kendal was in the passenger seat. My stomach clenched. Of course.

"Kendal?" I asked, my voice flat, as I got into the back seat.

Brandon turned, a forced smile on his face. "Oh, she just wanted to wish us well, didn' t you, Ken?"

Kendal offered a saccharine smile that didn' t reach her eyes. "Yes, Averi. I' m so happy for you two." Her eyes, however, held a malevolent glint.

I simply nodded, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery. I didn' t trust her, and I didn' t trust him.

He blindfolded me, a playful gesture that now felt like a sinister metaphor. "No peeking, my love. It' s a surprise!"

I let him, my mind strangely detached. What difference did it make? The blindness was merely physical. My eyes had been opened.

The car stopped. He helped me out, guiding me forward. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and something sweet, like old flowers. He untied the blindfold.

I blinked, adjusting to the dim light. We were in an abandoned warehouse. Dust motes danced in the single beam of light filtering through a grimy window. A faded banner, strung haphazardly above us, proclaimed: "Congratulations, Averi & Brandon! 100th Time' s the Charm!"

My heart sank. This was our old 'secret spot.' Where we used to sneak away from family functions, where he first told me he loved me. The irony was a cruel twist.

He beamed, unaware of the cold dread creeping through me. "I know it' s a bit rustic, but I wanted it to be private. Just us. Our place."

Our place. It felt desecrated, cheapened by its current state. And by his lies.

He snapped his fingers, and a small band I hadn't noticed in the corner struck up our song. A single spotlight illuminated a table set for two, adorned with wilted roses. Even the roses looked tired, clinging to a beauty that was long gone.

"I booked the whole place," he announced proudly. "Just like old times. Averi, my love, a hundred votes later, and we finally made it."

I forced a smile, my lips feeling stiff. "It' s... lovely, Brandon." The words tasted like ash.

My eyes scanned the room. The cheap plastic tablecloth, the wilting flowers, the banner slightly askew. It was all wrong. It wasn' t a celebration. It was a poorly executed reenactment of a past that no longer existed. It was as if he was trying to paper over the gaping wound of his betrayal with sentimental gestures.

Brandon, however, seemed oblivious. He noticed the wilting roses first. His brow furrowed. "What' s this? These aren' t the roses I ordered! And the banner is crooked! Who arranged this?" he fumed, turning to a cowering event coordinator lurking in the shadows.

"Sir, I... I tried," the coordinator stammered, wringing his hands. "But Ms. Scott, your sister, she insisted on making some... adjustments. She said you wanted a 'more authentic, rustic feel' ."

Brandon' s face darkened. He shot a furious glance at Kendal, who was leaning against a stack of crates, casually filing her nails. She offered a shrug, an innocent "Who, me?" expression on her face.

"Kendal!" Brandon growled. "What did you do?"

"Just trying to help, big brother," she simpered, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You said Averi loved rustic, natural things. I thought it was perfect."

Brandon turned back to me, attempting to salvage the situation. "Averi, I' m so sorry. She always meddles. She just doesn' t understand."

I just sat down, my eyes fixed on the sad, wilting roses. My heart was a stone.

Then, a waiter brought out a cake. A beautiful, multi-tiered confection. On top, a miniature bride and groom stood awkwardly.

I stared at it, a choked laugh escaping my lips. The cake was adorned with marzipan lavender. My eyes were burning.

"What' s wrong?" Brandon asked, perplexed.

"Lavender," I said, my voice empty. "I'm severely allergic to lavender."

Brandon' s eyes widened in horror. He turned to Kendal. "Kendal! You knew! You know Averi is allergic to lavender!"

Kendal merely shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, did I? My mistake. There are so many flowers, Brandon. It' s hard to keep track."

Brandon let out a roar of frustration. "That' s it! Kendal, I' ve had enough of your games!" He stormed towards her, his face a mask of incandescent rage. "Go home! Now!"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the exit. She stumbled, then dug in her heels. "No! I' m not leaving! I want to stay for your celebration!"

"There is no celebration!" Brandon thundered. "Not with you here making everything a mess!"

He dragged her out, their shouts echoing through the empty warehouse. I followed slowly, drawn by a morbid curiosity.

He pushed her into a dusty storage room at the back. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fury. "Why do you always do this? Why do you try to ruin everything for me and Averi?"

Kendal' s eyes snapped, wild and desperate. "Because I love you, Brandon! Don' t you see? I only want you to be happy! And she doesn' t make you happy! She' s taking you away from me!"

My blood ran cold. The words, raw and unhinged, were a confession.

"You don' t love Averi!" Kendal shrieked, her voice cracking. "You love me! You always have! Remember all those times, Brandon? When we were kids? You always swore you' d never leave me!"

Brandon buried his face in his hands. "Kendal, stop. You' re my sister. My adopted sister. That' s all you' ll ever be."

"No!" she cried, a deranged glint in her eyes. "It' s more than that! It always has been! You just refuse to admit it!" She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "You know how much I want you, Brandon. How much I need you. More than she ever could."

Brandon pushed her back. "Kendal, stop this! I love Averi! I always have!"

"Then why haven' t you married her in thirteen years?" she shot back, a triumphant sneer on her face. "Why have you always chosen me over her? Why did you accept the penalties, time and time again, when all you had to do was say yes to the board?"

He flinched, the truth of her words hitting him hard. I watched from the doorway, a ghost.

"Because you were struggling!" he yelled, his voice desperate. "Because I felt responsible! Because I thought if I just gave you enough time, you' d understand!"

"Understand what, Brandon?" she purred, her eyes fixed on him. "That you' re too weak to choose? That you love me, but you' re too much of a coward to admit it?"

She stepped closer, her hand reaching for his face. "Kiss me, Brandon. Just once. Prove you still feel something for me."

He hesitated. A flicker of something, guilt or weakness, crossed his face. My heart hammered against my ribs, a desperate, dying bird.

"You owe me this," she whispered, her voice laced with venom. "For all the years I' ve waited. For all the times I' ve sacrificed for you." She paused, a glint in her eye. "It' s my birthday, Brandon. And our adoption anniversary. You promised me anything I wanted."

My blood ran cold. Her birthday. Our anniversary. He had forgotten. Or perhaps, he had simply chosen to ignore it.

Brandon closed his eyes, a groan escaping his lips. He leaned in, a feather-light touch of his lips on hers. It was a kiss of obligation, of resignation, of misplaced loyalty.

But then, something shifted. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. His free hand, the one not sporting a bandage, went to her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened. It became long, lingering, a betrayal that tore through my soul. My breath hitched. It wasn' t a kiss of pity anymore. It was a kiss of passion. A kiss of possession.

My world shattered. The last vestiges of hope, the fragile threads of my love, snapped with a deafening crack. I felt nothing but a cold, desolate emptiness.

They broke apart, breathless, their eyes locked. Kendal' s face was flushed with triumph, a smirk playing on her lips. Brandon' s eyes, however, held a strange mixture of shame and something else, something I couldn' t quite name.

They turned, as if on cue, and walked out of the storage room, hand-in-hand. Brandon saw me, standing like a statue in the doorway, my face a blank mask. His eyes widened, then filled with a fresh wave of panic.

"Averi! I... I just... I was trying to placate her," he stammered, his voice desperate, obviously lying. "I sent her away. She won' t bother us anymore." He looked at Kendal, who offered me a fake, apologetic smile. "Didn' t I, Ken?"

Kendal giggled, a high-pitched, infuriating sound. "Oh, Brandon, you' re so silly. We just had a little talk. I told Averi I was sorry for the cake. Didn' t I, Averi?" She winked at me, a blatant act of provocation.

I stared at her, then back at Brandon, the man who had just kissed his sister with a passion he rarely showed me. The man who was now lying through his teeth, covering for her, defending her. My vision blurred, tears pricking at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of them.

I closed my eyes for a moment, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips. This was my love story. A tragic comedy of errors, orchestrated by him, fueled by her.

When I opened my eyes, all traces of emotion were gone. My face was a blank slate. My voice, when it came, was steady, calm, and utterly devoid of passion.

"Brandon," I said, looking him dead in the eye, "It' s over. We' re done. And just so you know, I accepted Diego Riddle' s marriage proposal this morning."

Brandon stood there, frozen, his mouth agape. The words hung in the air between us, heavy and final. He didn't seem to have fully registered them, his mind still reeling from the events of the last few minutes. Before he could respond, a shrill scream pierced the stale air of the warehouse.

"Brandon! No! Get away from her!" It was Kendal' s voice, sharp with a mixture of terror and jealousy.

Then, the screech of tires, a sickening thud, and a series of muffled shouts from outside.

Brandon, without a second glance at me, bolted for the door, his concern entirely focused on Kendal. He was gone, abandoning me in the dust and shadows of the warehouse, just as he had abandoned our relationship for years.

As the sound of his receding footsteps faded, my phone buzzed in my hand. A message from an unknown number. My fingers trembled as I opened it. It was Kendal.

The message was a photo. A blurry, close-up shot of her and Brandon, locked in that passionate kiss moments earlier. Beneath it, a caption: "He' s mine, Averi. Always has been. Always will be. He' ll never choose you. He' ll always choose me. Especially when I' m in 'trouble' ."

A bitter, self-deprecating laugh bubbled up from my throat. It was all a game to her. A cruel, twisted game, and I had been a pawn. The photo, a final, definitive stab to the heart. It confirmed what I had just witnessed, what he had just denied. He had chosen her. Again. Without hesitation.

I gazed at the empty doorway where he had disappeared. My vision was blurry, but I wasn't crying. There were no more tears left to shed. Just a profound, aching emptiness. I was just a casualty in their toxic dance, a sacrifice on the altar of his misplaced loyalty.

I turned and walked back to the car, my movements slow and deliberate. As I drove away from the desolate warehouse, I saw Brandon huddled over Kendal on the pavement, paramedics already arriving. He didn't even look up as I passed. He was entirely consumed by her, just as he always had been.

When I arrived home, the apartment felt cold and unwelcoming. It was still filled with memories, with the ghosts of a love that was never truly real. I systematically began to pack. Not just my clothes, but my life, my dreams, my very identity. Each item I placed in the suitcase was a step towards severing the ties that bound me to Brandon and his suffocating family. I left behind anything that held significant emotional weight from our shared past, choosing to carry only the bare essentials, the physical manifestations of my independent self.

Brandon didn' t call that night. He was undoubtedly at the hospital with Kendal, playing the dutiful brother, the concerned caretaker. The next morning, I received a text from him: "Kendal is okay. Just a sprained ankle. I need to talk to you, Averi. Please. Explain everything."

I didn' t reply. There was nothing left to explain. And I was tired of listening to his explanations, his excuses. My silence was a wall, impenetrable and final.

Hours later, a frantic pounding on my door shattered the fragile peace of my packing. Brandon. I opened it, my face impassive. He stood there, disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His arm was still bandaged, a grim reminder of his self-inflicted sacrifice.

"Why didn' t you answer my calls?" he demanded, his voice raspy with exhaustion and frustration. "My texts? What is going on?"

"I' ve been busy," I replied, my voice flat. "Packing."

His eyes darted past me, scanning the half-empty apartment, the open suitcases. A flicker of alarm ignited in his eyes. "Packing? For what? Where are you going?"

"To a new life," I said, watching his face, devoid of emotion. "A new city. A new husband."

His jaw dropped. "Husband? What are you talking about? Averi, this isn' t funny." He tried to laugh, a strained, hollow sound. "Are you upset about Kendal? I told you, she' s fine. Just a little accident. I' ll make sure she stays away. I' ll send her to rehab, I swear! Just... don' t be like this."

He wasn' t grasping it. He truly believed this was another one of my "tantrums," something he could smooth over with empty promises and placating words. His inability to comprehend the finality of my decision was startling, almost comical in its tragic absurdity.

"My flight leaves tonight," I stated, ignoring his pleas. "I' m going to be married soon."

His eyes, wide with disbelief, fixed on me. "Tonight? You' re leaving tonight? Averi, what are you saying? You can' t just... leave. We' re getting married! Remember? The 100th vote passed! I told you I' d fix things with Kendal!"

He sounded like a broken record, repeating the same lines, the same empty promises.

"Averi, please," he begged, stepping towards me. "Don' t do this. I' ll make it up to you. I' ll throw you the most lavish engagement party you' ve ever seen tonight. A real one this time. You' ll see. You' ll be my wife. We' ll be happy."

I shook my head slowly, a sad smile touching my lips. "There won't be an engagement party, Brandon. There will be a goodbye party."

He frowned, confused. "A goodbye party? What do you mean?"

"Just come," I said, the words a final, bitter invitation. "For old times' sake. Say goodbye to our friends."

He hesitated, then nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. He still didn' t understand. He thought this was some convoluted way for me to forgive him, to return to him. He was so utterly, desperately wrong. My acceptance was not a reprieve. It was a final, ceremonial farewell.

Later that evening, as I stood outside the familiar restaurant, a pang of something akin to sadness stirred within me. This was our old college haunt, a place filled with laughter and youthful dreams. Tonight, it would be the graveyard of those dreams.

Brandon' s car pulled up. Kendal was in the passenger seat again, her ankle now heavily bandaged, a crutch leaning against the dashboard. She offered me a triumphant, pitying smile. The irony was suffocating.

"Kendal? Again?" I asked, my voice calm, almost detached.

Brandon grimaced, running a hand through his hair. "She... she insisted on coming. Said she needed to support me. You know how she gets." He managed a weak smile. "But don' t worry, Averi. I told her to behave."

I simply nodded, my gaze sweeping over her bandaged ankle. "I see. A sprain, you said?" My voice was unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging within me.

Brandon flinched under my steady gaze. He seemed almost surprised by my lack of reaction, my detached demeanor. He had expected tears, anger, a fight. But there was nothing. Just a quiet, chilling indifference.

We entered the restaurant, a wave of noise and familiar faces washing over us. Our college friends, a tight-knit group, greeted us with boisterous cheers.

"Brandon! Averi! Finally!" a friend shouted, raising a glass. "It' s about time you two officially tied the knot!"

Another chimed in, "You guys are the definition of true love! Thirteen years! Unbelievable!"

Their words were a cruel mockery, highlighting the chasm between their perception and my grim reality. Brandon forced a smile, his arm tightening around my waist. Kendal, however, quickly interjected, her voice saccharine sweet.

"Oh, they' re not married yet, silly!" she giggled, leaning heavily on her crutch. "Still waiting for that official announcement from the Scott family board, aren' t we, Brandon?" She shot a venomous glance at me.

Brandon' s face darkened. He squeezed my waist, a silent plea for me to play along. "Soon, Ken. Very soon. We' ll be married. I promise." His eyes, however, were fixed on mine, searching for a reaction. I gave him none.

After dinner, a traditional game began. We each pulled out a small, sealed box we had buried in our college days, containing our deepest wishes for the future.

My friend, Maya, pulled out her box first. She read her wish aloud, a dream of becoming a successful artist, which she now was. Then came Mark, who wished for a family, now surrounded by his wife and two kids.

Next was Brandon. He opened his box with a flourish. His wish, written in his youthful scrawl, read: "To marry Averi Reed and build an empire together."

A collective aww went through the group. Brandon beamed, squeezing my hand. It felt like a lie.

Then it was my turn. My heart ached as I opened the small, tarnished tin box. My wish, written with the hopeful naivete of a girl in love: "To marry Brandon Scott and have a happy, simple life."

A poignant silence fell over the table. The simplicity of my wish, now so far from my grasp, resonated with a bittersweet echo.

Finally, Kendal, leaning forward with an eager glint in her eyes, opened her box. Her wish, scrawled in an overly dramatic hand, read: "To be Brandon' s one and only. To have his undivided love and attention."

A gasp rippled through the group. The blatant possessiveness, the thinly veiled jealousy, hung heavy in the air. Kendal, however, remained unfazed.

"Well," she announced, a triumphant smirk on her face, "It seems my wish has already come true, hasn' t it?" She looked directly at me, her eyes challenging.

A wave of murmurs, then outright whispers, spread through our friends. Their faces registered disgust, embarrassment, and a growing understanding. Kendal, however, seemed to bask in the attention, fueled by their disapproval.

Suddenly, a visibly inebriated college friend, Lucas, stumbled towards Kendal, his face flushed with alcohol and indignation. "You know what, Kendal? You' re a terrible person! Always messing with Averi and Brandon! You' re just a spoiled brat!" He lunged towards her, his hand reaching out.

Brandon, without a moment' s hesitation, sprang to action. He pushed Lucas back, shielding Kendal with his body. "Get away from her, Lucas!" he roared, his voice filled with protective fury.

He turned to the stunned crowd, his arm wrapped tightly around Kendal' s waist, pulling her close. His eyes, blazing with an almost savage protectiveness, swept over them.

"She is my sister!" he declared, his voice ringing with a possessiveness that chilled me to the bone. "And she is my responsibility! You will respect her! She is my woman!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. My woman. Not me. Never me. My heart, already shattered, splintered into a million irreparable pieces.