Love’s pathway

Francesca Freeman had loved Archer Collins for ten years, ever since her father brought the skinny, silent boy home from the streets. He became her brother in name, but in her heart, he was always something more.

Then, on the night he proposed, she overheard his chilling conversation with Amelia Ball: their engagement was merely the first step in his calculated revenge to destroy her family.

Every kiss, every tender word since, was a lie. He called her sick, a monster, and had his men beat her, all while she endured, knowing she was just a pawn in his cruel game. He even gave her murdered mother's last memento to Amelia, the very woman who orchestrated the fire that killed her.

She couldn't comprehend such betrayal from the boy she had loved, the one who had vowed to protect her. Why did he believe Amelia's lies over her, over the family who took him in?

With her heart turned to ash, Francesca Freeman made a choice: she would erase her identity, disappear completely, and leave Archer to face the consequences of his own blind hatred.

Chapter 1

Francesca Freeman had loved Archer Collins for ten years. It started the day her father brought the skinny, silent boy home from the streets, his eyes full of a darkness that she, a New York heiress, had never seen before. The Freemans adopted him, and he became her brother in name, but in her heart, he was always something more.

For years, he was just Archer, the quiet boy who followed her around, the one she protected and bossed in equal measure. Then, everything changed.

A lawyer from Silicon Valley showed up one day. Archer Collins, the homeless teen, was actually Archer Sterling, the lost heir to a massive tech empire. The news was a shock, but for Francesca, it only made one thing clearer.

Her feelings for him were no longer a teenage crush. They were real.

After he settled his family affairs, he returned to New York. He didn't come back as the quiet boy she knew. He came back as a man of immense power and wealth, a man who could have anything he wanted.

And he said he wanted her.

He proposed under the stars on the rooftop terrace of their family home, the city lights twinkling below them like a carpet of diamonds. He held a ring that glittered so brightly it hurt her eyes.

"Frankie," he said, his voice low and serious, "marry me."

Francesca' s heart pounded in her chest. This was everything she had ever dreamed of. For ten years, she had loved him, and now, he was asking her to be his wife. She felt a joy so pure and overwhelming it brought tears to her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Yes, Archer. Of course, yes."

He slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her into a deep kiss. For a moment, the world was perfect. She was going to marry the man she loved. Their life together was finally beginning.

Later that night, unable to sleep from the excitement, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was about to turn on the light when she heard Archer's voice from the adjoining study. He was on the phone.

She froze, a happy smile still on her face, ready to go in and surprise him. But his next words stopped her cold.

"Don't worry, Amelia. The engagement is just the first step."

His voice was different. It was cold, stripped of the warmth he had shown her just hours before. It was a voice she had never heard him use.

"I can't stand the sight of her," he said, and Francesca felt the air leave her lungs. "Every time she looks at me with those worshipful eyes, it makes me sick."

He was talking about her.

"She and her whole family will pay for what they did to you. I'll make Francesca Freeman the laughingstock of New York, and then I'll destroy everything the Freemans own. This marriage is how I'll do it. It' s for you, Amelia. It' s all for you."

The glass of water she hadn't yet poured felt heavy in her hand, though it was empty. Her engagement ring, once a symbol of her wildest dreams, now felt like a shackle. The beautiful future she had imagined just moments ago crumbled into dust.

She backed away from the door silently, her body numb. She went to her room and called her lawyer.

"I need to cancel my identity," she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

"Miss Freeman, that's a complex process. It could take up to a week."

A week. Francesca laughed, a dry, humorless sound. A week to erase a lifetime. A week to endure his fake affection, his staged romance, his cruel, calculated revenge.

She hung up and walked back into the living room. Archer was there, humming a tune as he made her a cup of chamomile tea, just like he used to when they were younger and she couldn't sleep. He smiled at her, the picture of a loving fiancé.

The Freemans had adopted Archer when he was fifteen. He was a scrawny, defiant kid who had been through the foster system and trusted no one. Francesca, who was used to getting her way, had declared him her personal project.

"You're my little brother now," she had announced, grabbing his arm. "That means you have to listen to me."