Ninety-Nine Letters, A Thousand Lies

Cooper Mcknight POV: The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, felt like a burning spotlight on my eyelids. I groaned. My head throbbed. A dull, insistent ache behind my eyes. I was on the couch. In the living room. Whiskey bottle on the floor beside me. Empty. Kennedy' s soft snores drifted from upstairs. A comforting sound. Or so I told myself. My phone, a sleek, new model, lay on the coffee table. A series of missed calls. From Jonna. And… Aubrey. I picked it up. My fingers fumbled. The screen was cracked. A spiderweb of fractures. "Damn it," I muttered. How did that happen? I must have dropped it last night. I tried to call Aubrey back. It went straight to voicemail. Again. And again. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Something was off. She wouldn't just ignore my calls. Not after last night. The argument. Kennedy' s dramatic collapse. My own fury. It was all a hazy, alcohol-fueled blur. I tried to call the security team. My hand shook. The phone was unresponsive. Dead. Another curse. I stumbled upstairs. My head pounding. I needed a new phone. I needed answers. My gaze fell on my bedside table. A small stack of legal documents lay there. Divorce papers. And a letter. From the Olsen Corporation. My eyes widened. No. My new phone lay on the charger. I snatched it up. Dialed my head of security. David. "David! What the hell is going on?" I barked into the phone. My voice hoarse. "My other phone is dead. Aubrey isn't answering. And where are those damn divorce papers from?" "Mr. Mcknight," David's voice, usually calm, sounded strained. "We have a situation. A serious one." My stomach clenched. "What situation?" "Mrs. Mcknight," David began. "She's… gone." My blood ran cold. "Gone? What do you mean gone? She's in the study! I put her there last night after she attacked Kennedy! She's locked in! Check the surveillance!" "Sir, we checked," David insisted. His voice grim. "The study is empty. There's no sign of Mrs. Mcknight. And the surveillance footage from last night… it's corrupted. All of it." My jaw dropped. Empty? Corrupted? My mind raced. "What about the guards? The ones I stationed outside the study? And at the back exit?" "They're gone too, sir," David replied. "No trace. We found their uniforms. Their equipment. But no men." A cold dread washed over me. This wasn't some petty escape. This was… professional. "Find her, David," I commanded. My voice laced with a raw urgency I hadn't felt in years. "Find her now. Don't stop until you do. Check every airport. Every train station. Every private jet manifest. I want her back." I paced the bedroom. My head pounding. The empty study. The corrupted footage. The missing guards. This was a nightmare. This was too much. Aubrey. Where was she? Kennedy stirred. Her eyes fluttering open. She stretched. A soft, contented sigh. She sat up. Her eyes met mine. "Cooper, darling? What's wrong? You look awful." Her voice was soft. Concerned. Too concerned. "Aubrey's gone," I said. My voice flat. Devoid of emotion. Kennedy' s eyes widened. A flicker of something. Not surprise. Triumph. Carefully masked. "Gone? What do you mean gone? Did she finally run off to her little Olsen family?" She paused. A sly smile playing on her lips. "Good riddance, I say. Now we can finally be together. Truly together." "She didn't just 'run off'," I stated. My voice cold. "Someone took her. And the security footage is gone. And the guards." Kennedy' s face paled. Just a fraction. "Took her? Who would do that? Maybe… maybe it was that shady Olsen family she kept talking about. Trying to kidnap their 'heiress'." Her eyes darted around the room. A genuine fear now, mixing with her usual malice. "We need to be careful, Cooper. They might come for me next!" My mind, still reeling, latched onto her words. Kidnap. The Olsen family. It made a twisted kind of sense. Aubrey had been talking about them. About her "real family." "Look, Cooper," Kennedy said. Her voice softer now. "I know this is hard. But maybe it's for the best. She was always so… problematic. Always causing trouble." She picked up my broken phone. "See? This is what happens when you let her get to you." She showed me the cracked screen. "She probably smashed it herself. In a fit of rage." A dark image flashed in my mind. Aubrey. Lying on the floor. Her head bleeding. Kennedy, clutching the heavy sculpture. No. Kennedy said Aubrey attacked her. She was just defending herself. My mind was a tangled mess of alcohol, anger, and conflicting memories. Kennedy scrolled through the broken phone. "Look at this, Cooper," she said. Her voice laced with mock concern. "She was texting that journalist friend of hers. Jonna. And… oh my God! Look at these pictures!" She thrust the phone into my hand. My eyes widened. It was a picture of Aubrey. Not a good one. A picture of her looking disheveled. Her clothes askew. And next to her. The unconscious woman from last night's party. Drugged. Disheveled. It was undeniable. Aubrey. And a drugged woman. My stomach dropped. My blood ran cold. The image burned into my mind. Aubrey. My wife. Caught in such a compromising position. With another woman. "See, Cooper?" Kennedy whispered. Her voice venomous. "She's always been trouble. Always promiscuous. Always looking for attention." She leaned in. Her voice a low growl. "She's a slut, Cooper. Always has been. And now she's ruined you. Ruined us." My body stiffened. A surge of white-hot rage. Promiscuous. Slut. The words hit me hard. Aubrey. My Aubrey. No. It couldn't be true. But the picture. The undeniable truth. "No," I whispered. My voice hoarse. "She wouldn't." "Oh, but she would, darling," Kennedy insisted. Her eyes gleaming with triumph. "She's desperate. Always was. Always will be. She tried to make a fool of you. To take everything you built." A primal scream tore through me. "No!" I roared. I threw the phone. It smashed against the wall. Exploding into a thousand pieces. The tiny fragments scattered like glitter. Kennedy flinched. She looked genuinely terrified now. "Cooper? What's wrong? Are you okay?" She reached for me. Her hand on my arm. I recoiled. Shaking her off. My mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. Betrayal. Rage. Disbelief. The image of Aubrey. So defiant. So cold. The divorce papers. The Olsen Corporation letter. The DNA results. All of it came crashing down. I stumbled out of the bedroom. Into the living room. My head pounding. My heart, a leaden weight in my chest. I sank onto the couch. My hands raking through my hair. Trying to make sense of the chaos. Aubrey. My Aubrey. The woman I married. The woman I believed in. How could she? I remembered our wedding day. Her smile. So radiant. So full of hope. My heart had swelled with a pride I had never known. The vows. The promises. Forever. I remembered the early days. Her quiet strength. Her unwavering loyalty. Her fierce intelligence. I had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I had believed she was different. Pure. Untainted by the ambition and deceit of the world I inhabited. I had loved her. Or so I thought. I had cherished her. I had protected her. I had given her everything. And this is how she repaid me? With betrayal? With promiscuity? With an attempt to ruin me? A cold, hard laugh escaped my lips. Lies. All lies. She had played me for a fool. Just like everyone else. My hand reached for the empty whiskey bottle. My fingers closed around its cold glass. I wanted to smash it. To shatter something. To make the pain stop. Then, my phone rang again. David. I snatched it up. "What is it, David? Have you found her?" "Sir, we have an update," David's voice said. It was grim. "About the Olsen Corporation. And their lost heiress." He paused. A beat of heavy silence. "What about it, David?" I demanded. My voice a low growl. "Spit it out!" "Sir… the Olsen Corporation has just released a statement confirming they have found their true heiress. And her name… is Aubrey Olsen." The words hit me like a physical blow. My head reeled. Aubrey Olsen. It was true. All of it. The DNA. The claims. My wife. My Aubrey. She was the one. And I had given it all to Kennedy. My mind raced. A terrifying realization. Kennedy. Her lies. Her manipulation. The picture on the phone. The drugged woman. The corrupted footage. All of it. Kennedy had played me.