Ninety-Nine Engagements, One Betrayal

Brooks POV: "I want a divorce." The words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected. I stared at Dayna, her face pale, her eyes surprisingly steady. A part of me, the part that had grown accustomed to her dramatic pronouncements, dismissed it as another one of her playful exaggerations. She was always so expressive, so prone to hyperbole. This was just her way of showing how upset she was about Everleigh. "Dayna, don't be ridiculous," I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. "You're tired, you're hurt. Let's not say things we'll regret." In retrospect, I should have seen the steel in her eyes. I should have recognized the quiet resolve that had replaced her usual effervescence. But I was so used to her being a whirlwind, a force of nature that ebbed and flowed, always returning to me. I had underestimated her. Severely. She had loved me, I knew that. Devotedly. With an almost childlike sincerity that I, in my detached way, had found endearing. She would leave little notes for me, filled with silly drawings and declarations of affection. She would plan elaborate surprises, meticulously researching my preferences. She would talk for hours about her day, her dreams, her fears, always ending with a hopeful glance, as if expecting me to reciprocate. I rarely did. I was a man of few words, and even fewer emotional displays. But her love, her endless well of affection, had become a constant backdrop to my life. I had taken it for granted, like the air I breathed. I had convinced myself that her endless chatter was simply her personality, and my quiet acceptance was enough. "I'm not being ridiculous, Brooks," she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "I'm serious." I just waved my hand, a dismissive gesture. "Let's talk about this in the morning, when you've had some rest." I had dismissed her. Again. The next morning, she was gone. Not gone from the house, but gone from my life in a way I hadn't anticipated. She was quiet. Terribly, unsettlingly quiet. She moved through the house like a ghost, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a chilling stillness. She had already called her lawyer, she informed me, her voice flat. The papers would be drawn up. I was too preoccupied with Everleigh to truly process it. The family patriarch had somehow gotten wind of Everleigh's escapades, her "bar fight" now exaggerated into a full-blown scandal. He was furious. The next evening, I was woken by a furious shouting from downstairs. I stumbled out of bed, pulling on a robe, and headed downstairs. Everleigh was on her knees in the living room, weeping, while Grandfather thundered at her, his face purple with rage. "You will marry the youngest son of the Sterling family!" he roared. "It's already arranged! You will restore some semblance of honor to this family!" "No! I won't!" Everleigh shrieked, her face stained with tears. "I won't marry him! I love Brooks!" My heart constricted. "Grandfather, please," I interjected, stepping forward. "Everleigh is not well. She needs time." "Time?" he scoffed. "She needs a husband! A respectable husband! And you, you fool, what about your wife? You think this charade is fooling anyone?" He raised his hand to strike Everleigh. My instincts kicked in. I lunged forward, shielding her with my body. The sharp crack of Grandfather's cane against my back echoed through the room. A searing pain shot through me, but I grit my teeth. I would always protect her. Everleigh sobbed, turning in my arms, her face buried against my chest. "Brooks! You shouldn't have! Oh, my poor Brooks!" She kissed my shoulder, her tears wetting my skin. "I love you. I love you so much." Grandfather scoffed again. "Enough of this disgusting display! Brooks, what about Dayna? What about your marriage?" My eyes, still blurry with pain, darted to the top of the stairs. Dayna stood there, a silent observer, her face ashen. Our eyes met. My brow furrowed. Had she told him? Had she betrayed us? "Dayna, come down here," I called, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me. She walked down slowly, her steps deliberate. She reached me. I leaned in, my voice a low whisper. "Did you tell him?" My hand clamped around her wrist, a silent warning. She flinched, her eyes widening in shock. "What are you talking about?" "Grandfather," I said, a forced smile on my face, pulling Dayna closer. "Dayna and I are perfectly happy. She understands the… delicate situation with Everleigh." Then, without warning, I leaned down and kissed her. It was a clumsy, desperate kiss, meant to appease Grandfather, to send a message to Everleigh, to remind everyone that Dayna was my wife. But as my lips met hers, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar. A ghost of a memory, perhaps, of the many times her laughter had filled our home. She was stiff in my embrace, her lips unyielding. When I pulled back, her eyes were cold, distant. She looked at me with an expression I had never seen before. Disgust. "Is that meant for me, or for your sister?" she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. My jaw tightened. She was pushing me. Always pushing. My eyes darted to Everleigh, who was now watching us, her face a mask of hurt. I couldn't let Dayna ruin this. Not now. I grabbed Dayna's face, pulling her roughly towards me, and kissed her again. Harder this time. It wasn't gentle. It was a desperate, possessive act. A declaration. "You are my wife," I growled against her lips. "And you will act like it." She struggled, her hands pushing against my chest, but I held her tighter. I wasn't gentle. I couldn't be. Not when so much was at stake. Not when Everleigh was watching. In that moment, I realized something terrifying. The gentle, patient Brooks she thought she married was a performance. And for Everleigh, for her fragile sanity, for her place in this family, I would shed that performance. I would be anything I needed to be. Even a monster.