My Marriage: A Million Lies

Carissa Vang POV: My phone buzzed, a jarring vibration against the cold marble tabletop. I ignored it, my gaze fixed on the empty space where Eli had stood moments before. My mind was a whirlwind of shattered memories, each one a fresh sting. The vasectomy. The calculated sham. Kala. The revelation of Eli's secret vasectomy wasn't just a betrayal; it was a brutal amputation of my future, a future I had ignorantly woven with him, dreams of children and family now lying in tatters. I had endured his family's incessant prodding, their thinly veiled insults about my "barren" state, all while Eli, my supposed husband, knew the truth and let me twist in the wind. The pain of that knowledge twisted my gut, a physical agony that mirrored the hollowness in my chest. The phone buzzed again, persistent. It was Eli. I almost let it ring, but a flicker of something new-cold, sharp, and utterly determined-stirred within me. I needed to act, and action required information. I answered, my voice a carefully constructed monotone. "Carissa? Where are you?" His tone was clipped, demanding. No concern, just impatience. "I' m here," I replied, my voice sounding strangely hollow to my own ears. "What do you want?" "There's an issue with Jonte. He's made a mess again. Kala is distraught." His words tumbled out, revealing the same old pattern: Jonte, his reckless younger brother, causing trouble, and Kala, his 'fragile' sister-in-law, needing protection. The same old story, but now with a gaping hole of truth ripped through it. "And you're going to fix it, like always," I stated, not a question, but a bitter observation. "Of course. Someone has to. She's delicate, Carissa. Not like you." His words were a backhanded compliment, or perhaps, in his mind, a justification. Not like you. He was right. I wasn't delicate. I was a weapon being forged in fire. He hung up abruptly, already in motion, probably rushing to Kala's side. He hadn't even waited for my response, hadn't noticed the seismic shift that had just occurred within me. He was so blind, so utterly consumed by his illusion of duty and protection. A moment later, my phone pinged again. A text from Eli: "Find me. Don't leave the penthouse." A command, as always. I walked to the window, the glittering New York skyline a stark contrast to the rubble of my life. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of the past. The relentless scrutiny from Elyssa about my childlessness, Eli's evasiveness, Kala's seemingly innocent "concerns" about my "reckless" behavior. It all clicked into place with sickening clarity. I was the lightning rod. My high-profile, wild reputation, carefully cultivated by Eli's family to absorb the wrath and scrutiny away from Kala. Kala, the fragile sister-in-law, who was married to his irresponsible brother Jonte. Kala, who was the real object of his twisted protection. Kala, the true villain, who had likely orchestrated many of the public humiliations that I had simply endured. I remembered the time my beloved pet parrot, Echo, had mysteriously flown out an open window in our well-secured penthouse. Eli had simply shrugged, saying, "He was a wild bird at heart, Carissa. He found his freedom." Kala had offered a saccharine "I'm so sorry, dear," while her eyes had glittered with something I now recognised as malicious glee. I had cried for days, and Eli had offered no comfort, just a detached observation about my "over-emotional nature." Now, I knew. It wasn't an accident. Then there was the incident with my art studio, where a faulty heater had caused a small fire, resulting in me needing a skin graft on my arm. Kala, ever the picture of concern, had been the one to "discover" the fire, but her eyes had held a strange, almost triumphant glint as the paramedics worked on me. Eli had been furious at the damage to the property, but his anger had been directed at the "negligence" of the staff, not at the potential harm to me. He had later dismissed my lingering pain with a wave of his hand, saying, "Artists are dramatic, Carissa. A scar will only add character." He saw my suffering as an aesthetic, not a wound. And the financial crimes. The framed documents, the manipulated accounts that had put my reputation and my family's business at risk. Eli had played the hero then, too, swooping in to "clear my name," but not before letting me face the public humiliation, the accusations. He had used my wild reputation as a smokescreen, making it easy for the public to believe I was capable of such recklessness. He had meticulously orchestrated it all, ensuring I bore the brunt of his family's displeasure and the public's judgment, all to keep Kala safe. The pieces of the puzzle weren't just fitting; they were exploding in my mind, each shard of truth cutting deeper than the last. He believed I was strong enough to take it. He believed I would simply absorb the blows and continue to stand. He was about to learn how wrong he was. My hands trembled, but not from fear. From raw, incandescent rage. This wasn't despair anymore; it was a cold, calculated fury. My love for him had turned to venom, a potent cocktail of hatred and an unyielding desire for justice. He had taken everything from me: my affection, my trust, my future. He had used me as a shield, a scapegoat, a distraction. I picked up my phone, my fingers flying across the screen. I called my father, Forest Neal. He was a powerful LA business magnate, emotionally distant, but fiercely protective of his own. He had warned me about Eli, had disapproved of the marriage, but I had been blinded by love. "Dad," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil raging within me. "I need your help. I want a divorce. And I want to burn the Drake empire to the ground." There was a long silence on the other end, then a deep sigh. "Carissa, what has that man done now?" His voice was laced with a familiar exasperation, but underneath it, I detected a spark of concern, a hint of the unwavering support I knew he possessed, even if he rarely showed it. "Everything," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He's done everything. And I'm going to make him regret it." "Are you sure about this, Carissa? The Drakes are old money, old power. This won't be easy," he cautioned, his voice now serious, the casual tone gone. "I' m sure. I want him to lose everything. His empire, his reputation, his peace. Everything he holds dear," I stated, the words pouring out with a chilling conviction. "And if you don't help me, I'll do it myself, and I'll make sure the Vang name goes down with the Drakes." Another silence, heavier this time. My father knew I was capable of it. He knew the fire that burned within me, the same fire he himself possessed. He had always seen it, even when he hadn't approved of its direction. "Alright, Carissa," he finally said, his voice grim. "Tell me everything. And then, we'll begin." A cold smile touched my lips. "Oh, we're just getting started, Dad. He thought I was a deflector. He's about to learn I'm a destroyer."