Three Years, One Cruel Lie

Three Years, One Cruel Lie

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
25.8K
View
25
Chapters

For three years, my fiancé Jaxon kept me in a top Swiss clinic, helping me recover from the PTSD that shattered my life. When I was finally accepted into Juilliard, I booked a one-way ticket to New York, ready to surprise him and start our future. But as I was signing my discharge papers, the receptionist handed me an official certificate of recovery. It was dated a full year ago. She explained that my "medication" for the last twelve months had been nothing but vitamin supplements. I had been perfectly healthy, a prisoner held captive by forged medical reports and lies. I flew home and went straight to his private club, only to overhear him laughing with his friends. He was married. He had been for the entire three years I was locked away. "I've been handling Alina," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "A few tweaked reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. It bought me the time I needed to secure my marriage to Krystal." The man who swore to protect me, the man I worshipped, had orchestrated my imprisonment. My love story was just a footnote in his. Later that night, his mother slid a check across the table. "Take this and disappear," she ordered. Three years ago, I had thrown a similar check in her face, declaring my love wasn't for sale. This time, I picked it up. "Alright," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll leave. After my father's death anniversary, Jaxon Francis will never find me again."

Chapter 1

For three years, my fiancé Jaxon kept me in a top Swiss clinic, helping me recover from the PTSD that shattered my life. When I was finally accepted into Juilliard, I booked a one-way ticket to New York, ready to surprise him and start our future.

But as I was signing my discharge papers, the receptionist handed me an official certificate of recovery. It was dated a full year ago.

She explained that my "medication" for the last twelve months had been nothing but vitamin supplements. I had been perfectly healthy, a prisoner held captive by forged medical reports and lies.

I flew home and went straight to his private club, only to overhear him laughing with his friends. He was married. He had been for the entire three years I was locked away.

"I've been handling Alina," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "A few tweaked reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. It bought me the time I needed to secure my marriage to Krystal."

The man who swore to protect me, the man I worshipped, had orchestrated my imprisonment. My love story was just a footnote in his.

Later that night, his mother slid a check across the table. "Take this and disappear," she ordered.

Three years ago, I had thrown a similar check in her face, declaring my love wasn't for sale. This time, I picked it up.

"Alright," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll leave. After my father's death anniversary, Jaxon Francis will never find me again."

Chapter 1

The email glowed on my screen, a single line of hope in the sterile white of the Swiss clinic. 'Congratulations, Ms. Phillips. We are pleased to offer you a place at the Juilliard School.'

For three years, this was the dream that kept me going, the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. My hands shook as I booked a one-way ticket to New York.

I didn' t tell Jaxon. I wanted to see the look on his face when I walked through the door, whole and healed, ready to start our life.

I packed my small bag, a nervous energy buzzing under my skin. I was finally free.

Three years of therapy, of medication, of isolation. Jaxon had sent me here after the kidnapping, after my father' s death, when the world had shattered into a million pieces.

He said it was the best place in the world for PTSD. He was my protector, my guardian, the man my father trusted with his life, and with me. He was everything.

At the front desk, I signed the discharge papers. The receptionist smiled warmly. "We' re all so happy for you, Alina. It' s a miracle."

I smiled back. "Thank you. It' s been a long road."

"It certainly has," she said, tapping on her keyboard. "But to be fully recovered for a whole year and show no signs of relapse, it' s wonderful. Here' s your official certificate of recovery, dated a year ago. It' s a formality, but I believe Mr. Francis wanted a copy for your records."

The air left my lungs.

I stared at her, the smile frozen on my face. "What did you say?"

"Your certificate?" She turned the monitor toward me. There it was, in black and white. My name. The date. A full twelve months ago. Stamped with the signature of the clinic' s head doctor. 'Patient has made a full and complete recovery.'

"There must be a mistake," I whispered. My heart started to pound, a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs. "The reports Mr. Francis sent me... they said I was still... unstable. That the medication was still necessary."

The receptionist frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Mr. Francis? He hasn' t requested a report in over a year. Not since we issued the recovery certificate. And the medication... Ms. Phillips, your prescription was for a low-dose vitamin supplement. It has been for the last year. It' s all in the system."

My mind went blank. The room tilted. Vitamin supplements. Forged reports. An entire year. A year of my life, stolen. I thought about the letters Jaxon sent, filled with worry about my "slow progress." I remembered pushing back my Juilliard application, another year, because he said I wasn't ready. Because I trusted him.

I didn' t believe it. I couldn' t. It had to be a system error. A terrible, cruel mistake.

"I need to see him," I said, my voice tight. "I need to ask him."

I left the clinic in a daze, the certificate clutched in my hand like a death sentence. I went straight from the airport to The Onyx Club, his favorite haunt. A place where deals were made over whiskey and secrets were traded like currency. The hostess recognized me and let me pass. I heard his voice from a private room, the door slightly ajar. I stopped, my hand hovering over the handle.

"So, the merger is finally done. The Francis and Gomez empires are one. Congratulations, man." A friend' s voice, loud and jovial.

Then, Jaxon' s. Smooth as silk, laced with an amusement that made my blood run cold. "It was a long time coming. Three years of a very... structured arrangement."

"An arrangement that came with a beautiful wife," another voice teased. "Don' t tell me you' re not falling for Krystal Gomez. Everyone in New York can see how you dote on her."

My breath caught in my throat. Wife? Krystal Gomez? The socialite whose face was plastered on every magazine?

"Krystal is... necessary," Jaxon said, his voice dropping. "The marriage is a contract. It secures Nexus Corp for the next century. That' s all."

"And what about Alina?" the first friend asked, his tone more serious. "She' s supposed to be coming home soon, right? How are you going to explain your wife?"

A low chuckle. "I' ve been handling Alina. A few tweaked medical reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. She thinks she' s still too sick to come home. It bought me the time I needed."

The room erupted in laughter.

"You' re a cold bastard, Jaxon. Keeping your fiancée locked away in Switzerland while you marry another woman."

"She' s fragile," Jaxon said, a dismissive wave in his tone. I could picture it perfectly. "She was so obsessed with me after her dad died. Worshipped the ground I walked on. It was easy. A little more time, and then I' ll end things with Krystal. Alina never has to know."

"You sure about that? Krystal seems to have you wrapped around her finger."

"Krystal is part of the deal," Jaxon stated, his voice hard. "Alina is my responsibility. I promised her father. I' ll take care of her."

My body went rigid. I couldn' t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating. Three years. He had lied to me for three years. He was married. The man I loved, the man who promised to wait for me, the man who held me when I woke up screaming from nightmares of my father' s death, was married.

I bit my lip, hard, and tasted blood. The sharp, coppery tang was the only thing that felt real.

I remembered the day my father was buried. I was a wreck, eighteen years old and an orphan. Jaxon, his handsome face grim, had wrapped his arm around me. He was my father' s young protégé, the brilliant tech prodigy my dad had mentored. He' d shielded me from the reporters, from the pitying looks. He whispered in my ear, "I' m here, Alina. I' ll always protect you."

I fell in love with him then. A desperate, all-consuming love. I chased him relentlessly. I left anonymous gifts at his office. I learned his coffee order. I even went to a temple, kneeling for hours on the cold stone floor, praying for his safety when a rival company threatened him.

The day I confessed, he smiled, a real, warm smile that reached his eyes. He pulled me into his arms and said, "It' s about time." We were happy. So happy.

Then his enemies came for me. They kidnapped me, tortured me. The trauma, layered on top of my father' s death, broke something inside me. The doctors diagnosed me with severe PTSD. Jaxon held my hand, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored my own.

"Marry me, Alina," he' d whispered, slipping a simple diamond band on my finger. "As soon as you' re better, we' ll get married. I' m sending you to the best clinic in Switzerland. I' ll wait for you. I promise."

I clung to that promise like a lifeline. I worked so hard in therapy. I endured the treatments, the nightmares, the loneliness. I did it all for him, for our future.

And all along, he was planning a life with someone else.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A message from Mrs. Francis, Jaxon' s mother. I never had her number.

'Meet me at the St. Regis. King Cole Bar. Now.'

I walked there, a ghost in my own life. The city lights blurred around me. His mother was already there, a picture of cold, aristocratic elegance. She didn' t waste time with pleasantries.

"Jaxon is married to Krystal Gomez," she said, her voice like ice. "It was a necessary merger to protect our family' s legacy. You are an obstacle."

She slid a check across the table. The number on it had so many zeros I couldn' t count them.

"This is for your troubles. Take it and disappear. Do not contact Jaxon again."

I stared at the check. It felt like a scene from a movie, a bad one. This had happened before, three years ago. She had tried to pay me to leave him then, too. I had thrown the check in her face, declaring my love was not for sale.

This time, I was too broken to fight. My love had been a joke all along.

I picked up the check. My voice was hollow, a stranger' s voice. "Alright."

She looked surprised by my easy compliance.

"I' ll leave," I said, meeting her cold gaze. "After my father' s death anniversary. After that, Jaxon Francis will never find me again."

I would make sure of it.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

Mafia

5.0

I was the "Ice Queen," the perfect Mafia wife who managed the De Luca empire's millions while my husband, Alessandro, played the part of the feared Underboss. I thought my silence and competence earned me respect. That was until I woke up in the estate's medical bay with a shattered leg. My saddle had snapped mid-jump. It wasn't wear and tear; it was sabotage. Lying in the dark, feigning sleep, I heard Alessandro whispering outside my door with his enforcer. "The buckle was filed down," the enforcer said urgently. "Aria tampered with it. She could have broken her neck." I waited for Alessandro’s rage. I waited for him to execute the mistress who tried to kill his wife. Instead, his voice was cold and dismissive. "Bury it," Alessandro ordered. "It’s just a broken leg. Aria was upset about the credit cards. She just wanted to teach Katarina a lesson." A lesson. My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting the woman who tried to cripple me. Three days later, at the Family Charity Gala, he humiliated me publicly. He outbid me for my grandmother's heirloom necklace and clasped it around Aria's neck while I watched from my wheelchair. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a piece of furniture to be rearranged. He didn't know I had bugged the entire villa while I was recovering. He didn't know I had the recordings of what Aria was really doing when he wasn't looking. I gripped the USB drive in my pocket and signaled the tech team to lock the doors. The statue was broken, but he was about to learn that shattered ice is sharp enough to slit a throat.

Too Late, Mr. CEO: You Lost Her

Too Late, Mr. CEO: You Lost Her

Modern

5.0

I sold my cameras and lenses—everything that defined me—to buy the first servers for my husband’s startup. Fifteen years later, on my birthday, Dustin left me alone to celebrate with his new assistant, Jami. When I confronted him about the affair, he didn't apologize. He threw a fifty-thousand-dollar check at me and told me to buy something pretty. But the betrayal didn't stop there. Jami broke into our safe and stole my late mother's vintage sapphire ring. When I tried to take it back, she snapped the eighty-year-old gold band in half. I slapped her. In response, my husband shoved me hard. My head cracked against the solid oak nightstand. Blood poured down my face, staining the rug I had picked out. Dustin didn't call an ambulance. He didn't even check my pulse. He stepped over my bleeding body to comfort his mistress because she was "stressed." When his parents found out, they didn't care about my injury. They came to where I was hiding, accused me of being clumsy, and threatened to leave me with nothing if I ruined the family image. They forgot one crucial detail: I was the one who designed, coded, and installed the penthouse's smart security system. I had synced every camera to my private cloud before I walked out. I had the video of him assaulting me. I had the audio of him admitting to fraud. And I had my father on speed dial—the man who owned the bank holding all of Dustin's loans. I looked at his terrified parents and pulled up the footage on the TV. "I don't want your money," I said, my finger hovering over the 'Send' button to the District Attorney. "I want to watch him burn."

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book