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He Murdered My Father For Her Novel Cover

He Murdered My Father For Her

My fiancé, Archer, left me at the altar 98 times for the same woman, Kennedy. Each time, she'd orchestrate a new disaster, and he'd rush to her side, leaving me in a wedding dress to face the humiliation alone. But I always forgave him. Years ago, when I was a bullied college student on the verge of jumping off a bridge, he saved me. He became my hero, my protector, the man I owed my life to. Tonight, I overheard the truth. "You used her," Kennedy said. "You orchestrated her father's 'accident' to get me his liver." Archer's reply shattered my world. "She was just a means to an end. It was always you." He didn't just use me; he murdered my father for her. Then, to appease Kennedy's jealousy, he tried to kill me with a seafood allergy, kicked me off a cliff, and left me for dead. But I survived. Rescued by my former mentor, I erased my identity and became a top scientist on a deep-space mission. Four years later, I'm back, and this time, I won't be a pawn in their game. I'll be the one who ends it.
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Chapter 6

Allyson Cote POV:

My eyes fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent lights above burning my retinas. My head throbbed, my body ached, every muscle screaming in protest.

The air smelled sterile, metallic, mixed with something vaguely antiseptic.

I was lying on a cold, hard examination table. A pet hospital.

My gaze drifted.

On the operating table nearby, lay a still form covered by a white sheet. A familiar shape. My stomach clenched. Hades.

The massive Rottweiler that had just torn into my arm, the one that had broken my father's keepsake. He lay there, lifeless.

Suddenly, a heart-wrenching wail pierced the air.

Kennedy.

She was hunched over the dog's body, her cries raw and guttural. Her face, tear-streaked and blotchy, was a mask of grief.

Her head snapped up, her eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, locked onto mine. "You!" she shrieked, her voice hoarse with accusation. "You woke up! You poisoned him, didn't you, Allyson? You murdered my Hades!"

My mind reeled. Poisoned him? Murdered? What was she talking about? I was still reeling from the beating, from being dragged around like a rag doll. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," I rasped, my throat raw.

Kennedy sprang from the table, a wild animal fueled by grief and rage. Before I could react, her hand flew out, her sharp nails raking across my already bruised cheek, tearing into the tender skin. I cried out, a sharp stab of pain.

My eyes darted to Archer. He stood in the corner, his face grim, avoiding my gaze. When I winced, about to retaliate against Kennedy, he finally moved. Not to help me, but to gently pull Kennedy away, his arm wrapped around her. "Kennedy, darling, calm down. Let's not make a scene."

My throat tightened. My heart, already numbed by betrayal, felt even colder. He protected her. Always her.

"She killed him, Archer!" Kennedy wailed, burying her face in his chest. "She poisoned my poor Hades! She's a monster!"

"That's not true!" I cried, my voice weak but firm. "I was locked in my room! I couldn't have done anything!"

"Oh, really?" Kennedy lifted her head, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. "I have a witness. And we found the evidence. That special chocolate you love so much? The one Archer gave you? It was wrapped in Hades' blanket. And it was laced with poison."

My blood ran cold. The chocolate. The one Archer had given me, knowing my allergies, years ago, claiming it was "safe." The malicious calculation of it all.

Kennedy then turned to Archer, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Archer, please. Avenge my Hades. If you don't… I don't know what I'll do. I can't live without him." Her eyes were wide, filled with a familiar, manipulative threat. A threat of self-harm.

Archer's body tensed. His jaw clenched. His eyes, filled with a twisted loyalty, swept over Kennedy's tear-streaked face. He stroked her hair, his gaze softening. Then, he turned to me, his eyes now cold and filled with a chilling disappointment. "Allyson," he said, his voice hard. "How could you be so utterly vicious?"

I stared back at him, my gut churning with a bitter, mocking laugh. He truly believed her. He truly believed I was a murderer. The absurdity of it all.

"Bring me the seafood porridge," Archer commanded, his voice suddenly calm, chillingly so.

A heavy bowl, steaming hot, was placed before me. My eyes widened in terror. Seafood. My most deadly allergy. He knew. He knew it could kill me. He was going to murder me, right here, in front of Kennedy, to appease her. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape.

"Archer," I whispered, my voice thick with disbelief and a horrifying realization. "You don't trust me? You'd really risk my life for this... this lie?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, a momentary weakness in his steely resolve. A fleeting hint of the man I thought I knew.

Kennedy, ever vigilant, saw it. "Archer!" she shrieked, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence. "Are you going soft? Are you going to let her get away with it? I'll… I'll just end it all right here, right now, if you don't punish her!"

The hesitation vanished. Panic flashed in Archer's eyes. He turned to Kennedy, his concern overwhelming any lingering shred of doubt about me. "No, darling, no! Don't even think about it." He turned back to me, his face a mask of cold fury. "Guards! Force her to drink it. Every last drop."

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