Ninety-Nine Letters, A Thousand Lies

Aubrey Burris POV:

Kennedy's triumphant smile faltered. Her eyes, wide with sudden panic, darted from the papers to Cooper's ashen face, then to mine. She saw the rage simmering beneath my calm exterior.

"What is this?" she demanded. Her voice, usually so saccharine, was now sharp, laced with fear. She tried to snatch the papers.

"Don't you dare," I warned. My voice low, dangerous. I grabbed her wrist. My grip, surprisingly strong, stung her skin. My arm, still tender from Cooper's earlier abuse, flared with pain. But I held on.

"Let go of me, you bitch!" Kennedy shrieked. She tried to pull away. Her flailing hand struck my cheek. A sharp, stinging blow.

I released her. Stepping back. My cheek burned. But the pain only fueled my resolve.

Kennedy stumbled. Pretending to almost fall. She clutched her wrist. Her face contorted in a theatrical display of pain. "Look what she did, Cooper! She attacked me! She's jealous! She's crazy!"

Cooper' s head snapped up. His eyes, still reeling from the documents, hardened. The concern for me, a fleeting shadow, vanished. He rushed to Kennedy' s side. His arms wrapping around her. "Are you alright, my love? Did she hurt you?"

He looked at me over Kennedy's shoulder. His eyes blazing with accusation. "Aubrey, what the hell is wrong with you? You would attack a pregnant woman?"

Pregnant. The word hung in the air. A fresh stab of pain. Another secret. Another lie.

"We need to talk, Aubrey," Kennedy sniffled. Her head buried in Cooper's chest. But her eyes, peeking over his shoulder, held a chilling triumph. "About your… family. The Olsens. I' m thinking of changing my middle name. What do you think, darling? Something dignified. Something that truly reflects my new status."

My face remained impassive. I held up the bundle of documents. The divorce papers. The Olsen Corporation letter. The DNA results. "There's nothing to discuss, Kennedy. Or, should I say, Ms. Patel? Because you are not an Olsen. You never were. And you never will be."

Kennedy flinched. Her eyes wide with genuine fear now.

"And as for attacking a pregnant woman," I continued. My voice cold. Precise. "I'm not the one who stole an entire identity. Or manipulated a man into a fraudulent marriage. Or tried to claim a fortune that wasn't hers. I simply defended myself from your petty attempt at violence. And from your colossal lie."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Kennedy hissed. Abandoning her fragile act. Her face contorted with malice. "Cooper told me everything! He told me he hated you! He told me he married you only to keep you quiet! To protect me! He said you were obsessed! That you'd ruin him! And you were nothing! A placeholder!"

Each word was a venomous dart. But they no longer pierced my heart. They only strengthened my resolve. Because they confirmed everything I already knew.

"You're pathetic, Aubrey!" Kennedy sneered. Her eyes brimming with contempt. "Always trying to be someone you're not! Always clinging to what's not yours! First the scholarship, now this! You're a leech!"

"I'm a leech?" I scoffed. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "I am Aubrey Olsen. The true heiress. And you, Kennedy Patel, are nothing but a thief. A con artist. And a fraud." I threw the DNA results at her. They fluttered to the floor. "My DNA confirms it. The Olsen family already knows."

Kennedy stared at the document. Her face draining of all color.

"They're coming for you, Kennedy," I whispered. My voice filled with a chilling promise. "And when they do, you'll lose everything. Your fake name. Your fake fortune. Your fake life."

Kennedy lunged at me. A wild, desperate animal. Her hands clawing at my face. But Cooper, still holding her, pulled her back. Hard.

"What do you mean, they know?" Kennedy shrieked at him. Her voice filled with panic. "Cooper, you promised! You said it was airtight!"

Cooper stared at her. His face a mask of betrayal. Then he looked at me. A dawning realization in his eyes.

I turned to leave. I had said what I needed to say. The truth was out.

"No! You can't just leave!" Kennedy screamed. Her voice hoarse. "You can't do this to me! You stole my life, Aubrey! My chance! My family!"

"You stole mine," I corrected. My voice cold. "Every single piece of it. From my design to my husband. And my family's name."

"Your family?" Kennedy scoffed. A hysterical laugh bubbling up. "You think you're special? You think you just get to waltz in and claim everything? I earned this! I worked for it! I manipulated every single person to get here! Cooper did too!"

"Manipulated?" I asked. My head cocked. A chill ran down my spine. "What else did you do, Kennedy?"

She stopped laughing. A sly, venomous glint in her eyes. "Oh, Aubrey. You have no idea. Remember how your scholarship design went 'missing'? The night before the final review? That wasn't an accident." Her voice was a low, triumphant whisper. "I broke into your studio. Shredded your original blueprints. Your backups too. And then copied it. Every single detail. You were so naive."

My breath hitched. The memory, a painful blur from years ago, now came into sharp focus. The crushing despair. The feeling of utter helplessness. The loss of my dream.

"And Cooper? He helped me. He helped cover it up. Helped make sure no one ever questioned my 'genius.' He loved me, Aubrey. He always loved me. You were just a means to an end. A convenient distraction."

The words were a physical blow. But they didn't break me. They only solidified the burning hatred. The desire for vengeance.

"You're a sick, twisted bitch," I snarled. My voice low. Deadly.

I lunged at her. A primal scream escaping my lips. My hands flew out. Gripping her by the hair. Her head snapped back. A gasp escaped her lips.

"Aubrey! Stop!" Cooper roared. Pulling me away. His grip on my arm, bruising. Pain flared.

Kennedy, released, crumpled to the floor. Clutching her stomach. "My baby! My baby!" she wailed. A fresh torrent of theatrical tears. "She tried to kill my baby!"

Cooper' s face contorted in a mask of pure rage. He shoved me back. Hard. I stumbled. Falling against the wall. A sharp pain shot through my head.

"Get out!" Cooper bellowed. His eyes blazing with a dangerous fury. "Get out of my sight! Guards! Get her out of here! Now!"

Two hulking figures, Cooper' s personal security, rushed into the room. They grabbed me. Their hands like iron clamps. Pulling me from the room. Down the stairs. And not towards the door. But towards the dark, isolated study in the back.

"No! Let me go!" I struggled. Kicking. Screaming. But their grip was too strong. They shoved me into the study. The heavy oak door slammed shut. The lock clicked into place.

The room was dark. Cold. My heart hammered. I was a prisoner. Again.

Through the narrow gap beneath the door, I saw a shadow. A guard. Stationed outside.

Hours passed. Or maybe days. Time lost all meaning. No food. No water. My phone, my lifeline, was gone. My credit cards, canceled. I was completely isolated. A ghost in my own home.

Then, a small slot opened in the door. A glass of water. A bland sandwich. And a tablet. The screen glowed. Cooper' s face. Kennedy' s. Laughing. Embracing. A slideshow of their newfound bliss. Their public appearances. Kennedy, draped in expensive gowns, flaunting her "Olsen" status. Cooper, beaming by her side. A picture of opulent happiness. A cruel, deliberate torment.

My stomach churned. But I felt nothing. Just a hollow, empty space. They were trying to break me. To make me watch my own destruction. But I was already broken. And now, I was rebuilding. Brick by painful brick.

My body grew weak. My head throbbed constantly. Sleep offered no escape. Only nightmares. Of Cooper's betrayal. Of Kennedy's malice. And the chilling truth of my stolen identity.

One morning, the door burst open. Cooper, his face grim, stood in the doorway. Flanked by his guards. He didn't speak. Just gestured. The guards grabbed me. My limbs, weak and unresponsive, offered little resistance. They dragged me out of the study. Through the house. And into a waiting car.

The car sped through the city. Lights blurred past. My head lolled against the window. My vision swam. I was numb. Disconnected.

We arrived at a grand, opulent estate. A sprawling mansion. Lights blazed. Music drifted through the air. A party. A celebration. For Kennedy. Of course.

They led me inside. Through the throngs of laughing, oblivious guests. Towards a private room. They shoved me inside. It was dimly lit. A single figure sat on a plush sofa. A woman. Her eyes closed. Her head lolled. Unconscious.

My heart pounded. What was this?

Then I saw it. A small vial. Empty. On the table beside her. And the faint, sickly sweet scent of sedatives. She was drugged.

My blood ran cold. My mind, despite its haze, sparked with a terrifying realization. What was Cooper doing? What was this?

Just then, the guards shoved me forward. Hard. Towards the unconscious woman. I stumbled. My hand brushing her arm. Her skin was cold. Clammy.

A flash. A click. The sound of a camera shutter.

My head snapped up. A shadowy figure stood in the corner. Holding a camera. Taking pictures. Of me. Of the unconscious woman.

My heart hammered against my ribs. What was happening? Why was he doing this? What was his game?