Betrayed Bride

The bouquet of red roses arrived at precisely 10 AM, just as it had every morning since I'd returned from the hospital. Drake carried it himself, his smile dazzling as he entered my bedroom.

"These are for you, my love," he said, placing them in a crystal vase on my nightstand. "The florist said they're the finest in the city."

I managed a weak smile, noting how he positioned himself near the door—always near the door, as if ready to flee at the first sign of genuine emotion.

"They're beautiful," I murmured, watching him through lowered lashes. "Thank you."

Drake pulled a chair close to my bed, not quite touching it. "I thought I might read to you today. Something to lift your spirits."

He chose "Pride and Prejudice"—my favorite book, a fact he'd apparently remembered from our college days. His voice was smooth and practiced as he read, but his eyes kept drifting to his watch, then to the door.

"Enough for today?" he asked after barely ten minutes. "You need your rest."

I nodded gratefully, and he was gone before I could respond.

---

That afternoon, I lay in bed with my eyes nearly closed, my breathing deep and even. The door opened quietly, and Drake slipped inside.

"Giana?" he whispered into his phone, thinking I was asleep. "I know, I miss you too."

His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that sent chills down my spine.

"Soon we'll be together properly. The lawyer says we just need her signature on a few more things, then we can move forward with our plans."

I kept my eyes closed, my face relaxed, while my hand slipped under the pillow where my phone recorded every damning word.

"I love you too," he murmured. "More than ever."

---

Dinner that evening was a carefully orchestrated performance. Giana arrived with Stone, her hand resting protectively over her pregnant belly. She wore a flowing dress that highlighted her condition, drawing all eyes to what should have been my victory but was now their trophy.

"Everyone's here!" Mrs. Bradley announced, her voice brittle with forced cheer. "Shall we eat?"

Stone drank heavily throughout the meal, his eyes avoiding everyone's gaze. I watched him refill his glass three times before the main course arrived.

"Isn't it wonderful," Mrs. Bradley said, raising her wine glass, "that we're all together during this special time. A new Bradley on the way!"

Giana and Drake exchanged a fleeting look—possession, triumph, hunger—before he raised his glass to Stone.

"To family," Drake said smoothly.

Stone nodded mechanically, draining his glass again.

---

Three nights later, I found Stone in the library, surrounded by empty bourbon bottles. The room reeked of alcohol and despair.

"Stone?" I called softly from the doorway.

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "Ava," he slurred. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I could ask you the same question," I said, stepping into the room.

He gestured vaguely at the wedding photo on the mantel—him and Giana on their wedding day, both smiling brightly at the camera.

"Did you know?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking. "Did you know what they were doing?"

I moved closer cautiously. "What do you think they were doing, Stone?"

He laughed bitterly, the sound echoing in the empty room. "My mother asked me to sign papers. Family legal documents, she said. Important for protecting our interests after..." He trailed off.

"After my close call," I finished for him.

He nodded miserably. "I trusted her. I trusted Drake. They said it was to secure everyone's future."

"Did you read what you signed?" I asked quietly.

Stone's face crumpled. "No. I should have, but I didn't. I never questioned them before." He looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Was I wrong to trust them?"

I sat beside him, choosing my words carefully. "Sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones who betray us."

"Drake told me the documents would protect the family," Stone whispered. "He said after your accident, we needed to be prepared."

"And now?"

Stone stared at the wedding photo, his expression hollow. "Now I wonder what else I don't know."

I placed my hand gently on his arm. "Perhaps you should start asking questions, Stone. About the documents. About what's really happening."

He looked at me, something shifting in his gaze—the first glimmer of doubt, perhaps. Or the beginning of suspicion.

"Questions," he repeated slowly. "Yes. Maybe it's time for questions."

As I left him there among the empty bottles and shattered illusions, I knew the seeds of doubt had been planted. Soon, they would grow into something far more dangerous to Drake and Giana's carefully constructed plans.