The Architect's Reckoning

The Architect's Reckoning

Shelby Helliwell

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I was on top of the world. Fresh off winning the National Design Award, my future as an architect in D.C. was limitless. Seraphina, the dazzling daughter of a Senator, was on my arm. That night, I planned to propose. But then came Marcus, her war-hero cousin, and everything shattered. In front of the city's elite, Sera chose him, declaring her new path, and publicly humiliated me with a stinging slap across my face. The next day, Senator Vance "informally" rescinded our engagement and canceled my project. My promising D.C. career was over, replaced by an exile to a grueling, isolated project in rural West Virginia. Broken and alone, I fell desperately ill, clinging to life in a rundown cabin. While fighting for survival, I received their wedding announcement-a seemingly cruel final blow, a double happiness symbol that felt like a twisted joke. I couldn't comprehend how the woman who had promised me forever could discard me so utterly, so publicly, then send a joyous wedding invitation while I lay dying. Was I truly so worthless that I deserved this utter destruction, this banishment where no one cared if I lived or died? But fate had other plans. A local herbalist, Clara, found me, nursed me back to health, and saved my life. We built a quiet, real life together, found true happiness, and started a family. Now, five years later, a husband and father, I' m back in D.C., and the ghost of my past, Seraphina, is demanding answers.

Introduction

I was on top of the world.

Fresh off winning the National Design Award, my future as an architect in D.C. was limitless.

Seraphina, the dazzling daughter of a Senator, was on my arm.

That night, I planned to propose.

But then came Marcus, her war-hero cousin, and everything shattered.

In front of the city's elite, Sera chose him, declaring her new path, and publicly humiliated me with a stinging slap across my face.

The next day, Senator Vance "informally" rescinded our engagement and canceled my project.

My promising D.C. career was over, replaced by an exile to a grueling, isolated project in rural West Virginia.

Broken and alone, I fell desperately ill, clinging to life in a rundown cabin.

While fighting for survival, I received their wedding announcement-a seemingly cruel final blow, a double happiness symbol that felt like a twisted joke.

I couldn't comprehend how the woman who had promised me forever could discard me so utterly, so publicly, then send a joyous wedding invitation while I lay dying.

Was I truly so worthless that I deserved this utter destruction, this banishment where no one cared if I lived or died?

But fate had other plans.

A local herbalist, Clara, found me, nursed me back to health, and saved my life.

We built a quiet, real life together, found true happiness, and started a family.

Now, five years later, a husband and father, I' m back in D.C., and the ghost of my past, Seraphina, is demanding answers.

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The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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