My Destiny Found in Betrayal's Wake

Youran Qianwu

Modern | Completed

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On my 24th birthday, my boyfriend of five years, Jackson, threw me a surprise party. The surprise was his wedding to another woman, Campbell. He claimed she was dying of cancer. In front of everyone, he denied our entire relationship, calling me his "little sister." When I confronted him, his violent shove caused me to lose our unborn child. I lost my love, my baby, and my job, all for a lie. Because Campbell wasn't dying. Her cancer was fake. But as they tried to destroy me, a powerful man named Cole Smith stepped in. At a charity gala, with his help, I played the security footage for the entire room to see-the footage of him pushing me, of me bleeding on the office floor. I held up the proof of her fake illness. "There's your truth, Jackson," I said, as his world came crashing down.

Betrayal Revenge Comeback Revenge Pregnancy

Chapter 10

The day before yesterday 22:26

Chapter 1

On my 24th birthday, my boyfriend of five years, Jackson, threw me a surprise party.

The surprise was his wedding to another woman, Campbell. He claimed she was dying of cancer.

In front of everyone, he denied our entire relationship, calling me his "little sister."

When I confronted him, his violent shove caused me to lose our unborn child.

I lost my love, my baby, and my job, all for a lie. Because Campbell wasn't dying. Her cancer was fake.

But as they tried to destroy me, a powerful man named Cole Smith stepped in.

At a charity gala, with his help, I played the security footage for the entire room to see-the footage of him pushing me, of me bleeding on the office floor.

I held up the proof of her fake illness.

"There's your truth, Jackson," I said, as his world came crashing down.

Chapter 1

Alycia Kennedy POV:

The taste of champagne was like ash in my mouth the moment I saw him, Jackson, my boyfriend of five years, standing at the altar with another woman. It was my 24th birthday, and the "surprise party" he'd promised me was actually his wedding reception. My heart didn't break; it shattered into a million tiny, jagged pieces, each one carving a new wound inside me.

My vision blurred, the opulent ballroom twisting into a grotesque mockery of joy. Just an hour ago, I was so excited, picking out the dress Jackson had hinted at, believing this was the night he' d finally make our love public. Instead, he made his vows to Campbell Cook, his high school sweetheart, a woman I only knew from the framed picture on his office desk.

A cold wave washed over me, leaving me breathless. Five years. Five years I' d spent loving a ghost, a secret, a placeholder for someone else' s past. Every whispered promise, every stolen moment, every future plan we' d meticulously crafted felt like a cruel joke, played out for an audience I didn' t even know existed. The air left my lungs, replaced by a hollow ache that settled deep in my chest.

Jackson's eyes, usually so intense and focused on me, flickered with an unfamiliar guilt when they met mine across the crowded room. He walked towards me, a forced smile on his perfect face, Campbell clinging to his arm like a trophy. "Alycia," he said, his voice dropping to a low, apologetic murmur, "I know this is a lot to take in. But Campbell... she's sick. Terminal. I had to do this for her." The words were an attempt at an explanation, a flimsy shield against the tidal wave of betrayal threatening to drown me. But all I heard was the sound of my world collapsing.

Campbell, a smirk playing on her lips, tightened her grip on Jackson' s arm. Her eyes, cold and triumphant, drilled into mine. "Terminal cancer," she drawled, her voice sweet and laced with venom. "It's a shame, really. Such a beautiful day, wouldn't you say, Alycia? Almost makes you forget all the little unpleasantries." She paused, her gaze raking over my simple black dress, a stark contrast to her flowing white gown. "Though I suppose some people just aren't meant for grand occasions."

The sting of her words was like a slap across the face, designed to diminish me, to make me feel small. This wasn't just a wedding; it was a public execution of my dignity. Her subtle sneer, her deliberate emphasis on "unpleasantries," told me everything. She knew. She knew about us.

Then the DJ, a man Jackson had chosen for my supposed birthday bash, announced, "Let's raise a toast to the happy couple, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson!" The crowd erupted in cheers, glasses clinking. My friends, my colleagues, even some of my family, all blissfully unaware, stood and applauded. They raised their champagne flutes high, their smiles wide, showering blessings upon the very union that was tearing my life apart. I felt the heat of a hundred eyes, all focused on the newly married pair, a spotlight on my utter humiliation.

A tremor ran through my body, but I forced my features into a placid mask. My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped indentations. I wouldn't cry, not here, not now. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I would not let them see the wreckage they had made of me. My composure was the last shred of my pride, and I clung to it with a desperate grip.

I lifted my own glass, a silent, bitter toast to the end of everything. "Jackson," I said, my voice clear and steady, cutting through the celebratory chatter. "May your marriage be as transparent and honest as our past five years together." The air in the ballroom seemed to thicken, the raucous laughter dying down, replaced by an uneasy quiet. My words hung in the silence, a fragile, poisoned offering.

Jackson' s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. He moved towards me, his hand reaching out, a silent command in his touch. "Alycia, let's step aside for a moment," he murmured, his voice low, a warning wrapped in concern. He still thought he could control me, could lead me away from the discomfort, away from the truth. He still believed I was his little secret, to be managed and contained.

But I pulled back, shaking off his touch. The phantom warmth of his hand on my arm felt like fire. "There's nothing left to discuss, Jackson," I said, my voice gaining strength. "Not tonight. Not ever." I turned away from him, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The urge to flee was overwhelming, but I forced myself to walk, not run, towards the exit.

His eyes, when I glanced back, were dark with a mixture of anger and disbelief. He wasn't used to being defied, not by me. His perfect public facade seemed to crack, revealing a flicker of the possessive man I thought I knew. He took a step towards me, a silent challenge, but I held my ground.

My brother, Jacob, sensing the sudden tension, stepped between us. His arm went around my shoulders, a silent anchor in the storm. "Jackson," he said, his voice low and placating, "Alycia's had a long day. We'll catch up later. Congratulations." His words were meant to smooth things over, to diffuse the tension, but they only served to underscore the uncomfortable truth hanging in the air.

Jackson, his gaze still fixed on me, forced a tight smile. "It's just for show, Alycia," he said, his voice barely a whisper, meant only for my ears. "This marriage... it's a temporary arrangement. You know how much I care about you." His words were a desperate attempt to cling to the fragments of our secret, to keep me tethered to him, even as he stood bound to another.

"Temporary?" I scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Is that what you call five years of my life, Jackson? A temporary arrangement? Were all your promises just for show too?" His words were a fresh insult, diminishing not just our relationship, but my very existence in his life. He didn't just betray me; he erased me.

Jacob, confused by Jackson's half-whispered comments, interjected, "What's going on, Jackson? What temporary arrangement?" The crowd was starting to murmur, sensing the underlying current of hostility. Jackson's face flushed. "Nothing, Jacob. Just... old friends catching up. Alycia's always been like a little sister to me, you know that."

A collective gasp rippled through the room. "Little sister?" a voice from the back called out, "But didn't you two date in college, Jackson? I heard you were inseparable!" The speaker, an old college acquaintance of Jackson's, quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was done. All eyes were on Jackson, then on me. The whispers grew louder, dissecting the fragments of our hidden past. The truth, ugly and raw, was beginning to unravel.

My mind reeled, a montage of stolen kisses, secret vacations, hushed phone calls, and late-night talks flashing before my eyes. Every sacrifice, every compromise, every tear I' d shed in those five years, waiting for him to finally choose me, for him to make me his publicly. All for this. For him to call me his "little sister," to completely deny our history. The betrayal was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

He' d always promised. "Just a little longer, my love." "The timing isn't right yet, sweetheart." "Soon, I promise. We'll have everything." His words, once anchors of hope, now felt like shackles, binding me to a past that never truly existed. He had strung me along, a puppet on his strings, while he waited for his "real" life to begin.

Suddenly, Campbell's voice cut through the stunned silence. "Jackson, darling," she cooed, her eyes fixed on something at my neck. "Is that... is that the locket your grandmother gave you? The one with her initial 'J'?" My hand flew to the delicate silver locket I always wore, a gift from Jackson on our third anniversary, something he' d said was a family heirloom, a symbol of his commitment.

"Yes, it is," Jackson replied, his voice strained, his eyes darting between Campbell and me. My heart thumped against my ribs, a warning drumbeat. I knew that locket was special to his family. He' d told me stories about his grandmother, how she' d worn it every day of her marriage. Giving it to me was the closest thing he'd ever done to truly claiming me.

"Oh, how lovely!" Campbell exclaimed, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You know, my family has a tradition. On our wedding day, the bride receives a piece of jewelry that symbolizes the husband's undying devotion. I was hoping... since you' re already wearing it, perhaps you could lend it to me? Just for tonight, of course. It would mean the world." Her words were saccharine, but her gaze was pure steel, a challenge.

Jacob, standing beside me, squeezed my arm. "Come on, Alycia," he whispered, "It's just a locket. Let's not make a scene. It's Jackson's wedding day, after all." His plea was a dull thud against my already fractured heart. He didn't understand. He couldn't. This wasn't just a locket; it was a symbol, a testament to a love that was now being erased.

Jackson, ever the manipulator, sensing the shift in the room, gently stroked Campbell's hair. "Of course, sweetheart," he said, his voice dripping with affection. He then turned to me, his eyes pleading. "Alycia, you understand, don't you? Campbell's... sentimental. It would make her so happy." His words, a dismissal of my feelings, a validation of hers, felt like a punch to the gut. He was asking me to hand over the last tangible piece of our shared history, to a woman who had just usurped my life.

"It's just costume jewelry, anyway, isn't it, Alycia?" Jackson added, his voice a little too loud, a little too casual. "I mean, it's not like it's real gold or anything valuable." The insult hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He wasn't just asking for the locket; he was stripping it of its meaning, stripping me of my worth. He was telling me that our memories, our love, were cheap, disposable, as fake as the locket he now claimed was worthless.

A sudden, chilling clarity washed over me. He didn' t just not love me; he never respected me. I was a secret, a convenience, something to be hidden away and then discarded when a better option presented itself. The pain was still there, but beneath it, a cold, hard resolve began to form. My love for him had been a cage, and now, finally, the door was open.

Jackson and Campbell stood side by side, a picture of marital bliss, their gazes locked. He leaned down, whispering something in her ear, and she giggled, a high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. They kissed then, a long, lingering kiss, right in front of me, in front of everyone, a public declaration of their triumph, and my utter defeat.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I reached up, my fingers trembling slightly as they unclasped the delicate chain. The cool metal felt heavy in my palm, a leaden weight of lost dreams. I looked at the 'J' engraved on its surface, a letter that once symbolized 'Jackson' for me, a promise of forever. Now, it was just a letter, empty of meaning. I extended my hand, the locket dangling from my fingertips, a final, bitter offering. "Here," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "May it bring you all the happiness it promised me."