Thirteen Years Of His Lies

For thirteen years, I waited for my fiancé, Brandon. Our marriage was blocked ninety-nine times by his family's board, or so he told me. Each time, he'd accept a public corporate penalty, playing the martyr for our love.

But on the day of the 100th vote, I overheard the truth. The board had approved our marriage every single time. He was the one sabotaging it, fabricating issues to appease his manipulative adopted sister, Kendal.

That night, at a "surprise party," he kissed her with a passion he hadn't shown me in years. When I later confronted him about her lies, he shoved me. I fell, my head splitting open on the coffee table.

As I lay bleeding on the floor, he didn't help me. He stood over me, protecting his crying sister.

"Apologize to Kendal, Averi."

That's when I finally saw him for the weak man he was. I wiped the blood from my face, walked out of the life we built, and accepted the marriage proposal from his biggest rival.

Chapter 1

The soft lamplight cast long shadows across Brandon' s muscular back as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips tasted of the expensive whiskey he favored, a familiar comfort. My fingers traced the scar above his hipbone, a souvenir from a childhood dare. Thirteen years. A lifetime, it felt like. We were so close. The 100th vote, the one that would finally make us truly official, was just hours away.

"Relax, Averi," he mumbled against my neck, his breath warm. "It' s going to be fine. This time, I feel it."

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But a tremor of unease, cold and sharp, snaked through me. It wasn't the usual pre-vote jitters. Something felt off. His touch, usually so electric, seemed to hum with a strange, almost frantic energy tonight.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "You okay?"

I forced a smile. "Just… tired. It' s been a long five years, Brandon."

He nodded, running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. He was the epitome of a Scott, handsome and commanding, a natural-born CEO. He had to be. The Scott family conglomerate demanded nothing less.

"I know, baby. I know." His voice was laced with an exhaustion that seemed to pierce through his polished facade. "But we' re almost there. One more hurdle."

He cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. "It kills me, Averi, that you' ve had to go through this. All those public corporate penalties, the scrutiny. It' s unfair."

I leaned into his touch, trying to draw reassurance from it. It was true. Each failed vote, each "last-minute complication," had resulted in Brandon having to publicly accept a corporate penalty. A show of commitment, the board called it. A demonstration that he was willing to suffer for his choices. For our choice.

"It' s okay," I whispered, even though it wasn't. It never had been. "We' ll get through it. Together."

He nodded again, though his eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher. A shadow, perhaps. Or a secret. He held me tighter then, almost crushing me, as if trying to merge us into one, to protect us from the outside world. Or perhaps, from something within himself.

Later, as he slept beside me, his breathing deep and even, I found myself staring at the ceiling. The unease hadn't faded. Instead, it had grown, a knot tightening in my stomach. Brandon, the powerful, charismatic CEO, was a different man in the boardroom. Ruthless, decisive, sharp. But when it came to our marriage, to these endless board votes, he was… soft. Almost passive. He always accepted the board's decision with a sigh, a shrug, a look of profound resignation that always seemed to say, What can I do? It' s family tradition.

But something in his eyes tonight, an almost manic glint, chipped away at that familiar narrative. A cold dread settled over me. It was like watching a play, a performance I had seen ninety-nine times before, and suddenly noticing an actor miss a cue, a prop out of place. The illusion was fragile, threatening to crack.

I had a terrible feeling. A premonition, cold and clear, that this 100th vote would be the final act. Not because we would finally win, but because something would irrevocably break. Our story, the one I had poured thirteen years of my life into, felt like it was nearing its end. A final, painful curtain call.

The Scott family. Their influence permeated every aspect of our lives. Their foundation' s board held the ultimate power over any marriage involving a direct heir, especially the CEO. Unanimous approval was required. Not just a majority. Unanimous. A tradition, they called it. A safeguard against weakening the dynasty.

For five years, we had faced this tradition. Ninety-nine times, the vote had failed. Ninety-nine times, a "last-minute complication" had arisen. Ninety-nine times, Brandon had accepted his public corporate penalty with that same weary, regretful sigh. Each time, I tried to convince myself that he was doing his best, that he was fighting for us against an insurmountable force.

But the sheer repetition, the identical nature of the failures, had begun to grate. It was a pattern, too perfect to be accidental. And I was tired of being a pawn in whatever game this was.

This time, I decided, I wouldn' t just wait. I would act. I would be there. I would see for myself.

I slipped out of bed as dawn broke, leaving Brandon undisturbed. My mind was made up. I would go to the board meeting myself. Not to interfere, not to plead, but to simply… observe. To finally understand what mystical force kept derailing our future. I quickly dressed in a sleek, professional suit. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This wasn't just about a vote anymore. It was about trust. About truth.

The Scott Corporation headquarters loomed against the morning sky, a monolith of glass and steel. I took a deep breath, the cold air burning my lungs. My polished heels clicked against the marble floors as I made my way to the executive boardroom on the top floor. The air grew heavy with anticipation, or perhaps, with my own dread, as I approached. I found a discreet alcove just outside the closed doors, a small service entrance often used by staff. From here, I could hear everything.

The muffled voices inside rose and fell, a serious symphony of power. I strained my ears, my heart hammering. Then, a voice, clear and distinct, cut through the hum. It was Brandon.

"I understand, gentlemen," he said, his tone surprisingly firm, almost relieved. "It seems we have yet another… unforeseen issue."

Unforeseen issue? My blood ran cold. Again?

A collective sigh, then a chorus of murmurs from the board members.

"Ah, Brandon, my boy," an older voice boomed, likely old Mr. Harrison, the family patriarch. "One hundred votes, and still no consensus. A true test of your resilience, wouldn' t you say?"

My breath hitched. One hundred votes. They had gone through with it. And it had failed again. My mind reeled. This was it. The breaking point. After all this time, all this waiting, all this hope…

Then I heard something that made the world tilt on its axis.

"Actually, Mr. Harrison," Brandon said, his voice now devoid of any pretense of resignation, almost cheerful, "the vote actually passed. Unanimously, as a matter of fact."

My body went rigid. The blood drained from my face, leaving my skin clammy and cold. Passed? Unanimously? But he had just said there was an "unforeseen issue." What was happening? My mind struggled to process this sudden, violent contradiction. It was as if someone had pulled a rug from under my feet, only to reveal a gaping chasm beneath.

A stunned silence fell in the room, then Harrison' s voice, sharp with suspicion. "Passed? Then what is this 'unforeseen issue' you speak of, Brandon? Don' t toy with us."

Brandon chuckled. A dry, humorless sound that felt like a slap across my face. "Well, you see, I… I fabricated it. Again."

A collective gasp from the board. My vision blurred. Fabricated it? He fabricated it? The words echoed in my head, a cruel, mocking refrain. He had been orchestrating this? All this time?

"Brandon!" Harrison' s voice was pure thunder now. "Have you lost your mind? Why in God' s name would you do such a thing? Do you have any idea the implications of this deception?"

I pressed my back against the wall, my knees threatening to give out. My world, the one built on thirteen years of shared dreams and unspoken promises, was crumbling around me.

"It' s Kendal," Brandon said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "She… she found out the vote was about to pass. She had another one of her episodes. Threatened to… well, to do things. Bad things."

Kendal. His adopted sister. My stomach churned. The "last-minute complications" weren't random acts of fate. They were Kendal' s emotional outbursts, weaponized against our future, with Brandon as her willing accomplice.

"Kendal Scott?" another board member scoffed. "The girl who works as your executive assistant? You mean to tell me you' ve sabotaged your own marriage, a hundred times, because of her 'episodes' ?"

"She' s my sister," Brandon said, his voice hardening. "She' s been through a lot. And she depends on me. She relies on me, emotionally. She believes if I marry Averi, I' ll abandon her. She can' t cope with it."

"And Averi Reed? The woman you' ve supposedly loved for thirteen years?" Harrison pressed, his voice laced with disgust. "What about her emotional well-being? Her commitment? Her years of waiting?"

Brandon was silent for a long moment. I imagined him running a hand over his face, that familiar gesture of exasperation. "Averi… she' s strong. She understands. She knows my history with Kendal."

No, Brandon. I don' t understand. My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I don' t understand any of this.

"You told her it was the board, didn' t you?" Harrison' s voice was cold. "You let her believe we were the obstacles."

"She wouldn' t have accepted it otherwise," Brandon admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "She wouldn' t have understood Kendal' s… needs."

"So you' d rather she believe we are cruel, archaic traditionalists than face your sister' s manipulative behavior?"

Brandon sighed. "It' s not manipulation, sir. It' s… fragility. She truly believes she' ll be alone. And after what she' s been through, I can' t… I can' t be the one to push her over the edge."

My mind flashed back to Kendal. Outwardly fragile, yes. Pitiable, perhaps. But always lurking beneath the surface was an intense, almost obsessive possessiveness towards Brandon. I had seen it, dismissed it as a sister' s affection. Now, it was clear. She wasn' t just fragile. She was a weapon. And Brandon was her shield.

"And so, you will accept the corporate penalty, I presume?" Harrison asked, his voice dripping with ironic detachment.

"Yes, sir," Brandon replied, his voice firm again. "I will. It' s a small price to pay to keep the peace."

Peace. My future, my dignity, my entire relationship, reduced to keeping the peace with a manipulative woman.

A choked sob escaped my lips, but I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. I had to get out. Before they heard me. Before he heard me. The pain was too immense, too suffocating to contain. It was a physical ache, deep in my chest, tearing through my very soul. My knees finally buckled, and I slid down the wall, clutching my chest, gasping for air. The marble floor was cold against my cheek, mirroring the coldness that had just seeped into my heart.

The rhythmic vibration of my phone startled me, cutting through the haze of my agony. It was a call from my aunt, a distant relative but the closest thing I had to family since my parents passed. I fumbled with the phone, my fingers clumsy with shock, and answered.

"Averi, dear? How did it go?" she asked, her voice bright and hopeful. "Did the Scotts finally see sense? Are you and Brandon finally setting a date?"

Her words twisted the knife in my gut. What could I say? Oh, it went wonderfully, Aunt. Brandon passed the vote, only to fabricate a problem because his adopted sister threw a tantrum. He' s been doing it for five years. He lied to me, to everyone, to appease her. The words caught in my throat, a bitter, metallic taste.

"Averi? Are you there?"

My voice was a raw, broken whisper. "Aunt… I…" I couldn' t form the words. The betrayal was too fresh, too profound.

"Oh, darling, don' t tell me it' s happened again," her voice softened, laced with a familiar disappointment. "That family… they' ll never truly accept you, will they? Brandon is a fool to let them string him along like this."

She was closer to the truth than she knew, yet so far from the depths of the actual deception.

"You know," she continued, her tone shifting, becoming more decisive, "my old friend, Mr. Riddle. You know, Diego Riddle, from Riddle Industries? He' s been asking about you. He' s always admired your work, your spirit. He actually proposed to me, for you, a while back. I told him you were engaged, but… well, he' s a persistent man. And a good man, Averi. A very good man. He' s looking for a wife, someone to build a future with, a real partner. Not someone to keep hidden away for years."

Diego Riddle. The name, a stark contrast to Brandon' s, jolted me. Diego. The rival CEO, the man who had always looked at me with open admiration, never the veiled pity or patronizing understanding I often saw in others' eyes when Brandon' s family was mentioned. He was stable, decisive, and he had always treated me with respect. He had seen me, Averi Reed, not just Brandon Scott' s perpetually waiting fiancée.

My aunt paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Averi, you deserve better. You deserve a man who puts you first, unequivocally. A man who isn' t afraid to fight for you, not against you. Think about it, darling. Move on. Build a new life. A real life."

The words resonated deep within me, a siren song of hope in the desolate landscape of my shattered engagement. A real life. With a real partner. My mind, still reeling from Brandon' s confession, made a sudden, stark decision.

"Aunt," I said, my voice hoarse but firm, "Tell Mr. Riddle… tell Diego I accept."