What It Takes To Mend A Broken Heart

Name: What It Takes To Mend A Broken Heart
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Rabbit

Short stories | Completed

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I was his secret weapon, the ghostwriter of his success, the woman whose soul he stole and put on display. He took my designs, gave the credit to his socialite fiancée, and then offered me cash to "handle" our unborn child. He left me broken on a rain-slicked New York street, believing I was just another problem solved. But in Paris, I rebuilt myself, my pain becoming the blueprint for an architectural masterpiece that would win the world's most prestigious award. Now he's lost everything, haunted by the genius he discarded. He's come back, begging to rebuild the bridge he burned. But some foundations are too shattered to ever be repaired.

Modern Betrayal Revenge

Chapter 20 20

07-08 14:46

Chapter 1 1

For eight years, I lived inside a promise. A whisper from childhood that became the entire blueprint of my world. Tonight, I thought that world would finally become real.

The gown felt like a second skin, a pale silver whisper against the ballroom's golden light. Every stitch was a secret I shared with Cedric. It was a recreation of a sketch he'd doodled on a napkin years ago, an idle fantasy I had memorized and brought to life. I felt a nervous tremor in my hands, a breathless hope swelling in my chest. This was the Daniel Foundation Gala. This was the night he would finally stand by my side.

Then he made his entrance.

Cedric looked like a king, poised and perfect in his custom tuxedo. But he wasn't alone. On his arm was Lena Thorne, a woman who glittered under the chandeliers, celebrated and adored.

And she was wearing my dress.

Not my dress, not the one I'd spent a hundred hours on. Hers was a designer version, sharper, colder, its fabric screaming of a price tag I couldn't imagine. It was a commercial masterpiece, a perfect copy that made my heartfelt creation look like a cheap imitation.

I froze, invisible in a room of a thousand people.

Cedric's voice boomed through the speakers as he took the stage, his arm possessively around Lena's waist. "A special thank you to the stunning Lena Thorne," he said, his smile blinding. "Her innate elegance and foresight in choosing this incredible gown perfectly capture the spirit of tonight's event."

My spirit. My design. He was praising her for my soul's work.

Later, as they moved through the crowd, Lena's heel caught. She stumbled, a graceful, practiced motion that sent the full glass of red wine in her hand arcing through the air. It landed squarely on the front of my silver gown.

The stain bloomed like a fresh wound.

Cedric's hand shot out, steadying Lena instantly. "Are you alright?" His voice was thick with concern. For her.

Then his eyes, cold and sharp as ice, found me.

"Clean yourself up, Elisa," he said, his voice low and laced with irritation. "Don't cause a scene."

In the cold marble bathroom, the cheap paper towels did nothing but smear the wine. Two women reapplying lipstick glanced at my reflection in the mirror.

"Did you see that?" one whispered, not bothering to be quiet. "Cedric's little shadow trying to copy Lena Thorne. How pathetic."

The words sliced right through me. My hand instinctively went to the small, worn silver locket around my neck. It was a gift from him, from before all this. I clutched it tight, the metal digging into my skin.

"One day, you'll be the one, Elisa," I whispered, the old promise sounding less like a prayer and more like a lie.