Beyond The Betrayal: Her Rise

After three years in prison for a murder I didn't commit, my husband, Alexander, was waiting for me at the gates. He was the perfect, devoted spouse who stood by me through everything, promising me a new beginning.

But when he opened the door to our home, my new beginning ended. Standing in the foyer was Katerina, the mistress I was convicted of killing.

"She lives here now, Aubrey," he said, not even looking at me.

He confessed everything. The three years I spent in hell weren't a mistake; they were a "lesson" to teach me not to question him. He had let me rot in a cage while he built a life with the woman who put me there.

Then, he threw me out of the house I helped design.

The man I loved hadn't just cheated. He had sacrificed my freedom, my sanity, and my life just to put me in my place. The betrayal was so absolute it broke something deep inside me. The woman who walked out of prison that morning was already dead.

In a cheap motel room, I whispered to the other person my mind had created to survive the trauma, "I can't do this anymore. You can have this life. Just... make them pay."

When I looked in the mirror again, the reflection that stared back was not me.

"Don't worry," a new voice said. "My name is Aja."

Chapter 1

The world called them the perfect couple. Alexander Brock, the tech genius, and his devoted wife, Aubrey Lowery. They said her love was the foundation of his empire. They said his loyalty was her greatest reward.

They were wrong.

For three years, Aubrey' s world was a concrete box. One thousand and ninety-five days in a place where brutality was the only language spoken.

He visited every week.

Alexander would sit across from her, his expensive suit a stark contrast to her drab prison uniform. He' d hold her hand across the cold table, his eyes filled with a carefully practiced sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, my love," he'd whisper. "I'm doing everything I can. The lawyers are working on it."

He brought her books and news from the outside world, painting a picture of a life waiting for her, a life he was faithfully preserving. He was the grieving husband, standing by his wrongly convicted wife.

And Aubrey believed him. She clung to his words like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.

The conviction was for murder. Or, officially, involuntary manslaughter. The victim was Katerina Collier, Alexander' s mistress. The story the police believed was that Aubrey, in a fit of jealous rage, had confronted Katerina at the edge of a cliff. There was a struggle. Katerina fell.

Her body was never found, swept away by the raging river below.

Aubrey' s memory of that day was a blur of panic and Katerina' s mocking laughter. She remembered trying to pull Katerina back, not push her. But the evidence, a text message from Katerina to a friend saying she feared for her life, was enough.

"I'm going to meet Aubrey," the message read. "She found out about us. I'm scared."

Alexander had been furious with her. Not for the alleged murder, but for discovering his affair in the first place.

"You should have just stayed out of it," he had hissed at her in the interrogation room, his mask of the loving husband slipping for just a moment. "This is your fault."

Those words echoed in the dark corners of her cell, louder than the screams of other inmates. Her three years were a living nightmare. The guards turned a blind eye. The other women saw her as a fragile, easy target. She learned to make herself small, to become invisible, but the physical and mental scars piled up, one on top of the other.

Then, on a gray Tuesday morning, the unimaginable happened. A new inmate, transferred from another state, saw Aubrey' s picture in a faded newspaper clipping pinned to a bulletin board.

"Hey, I know her," the inmate said, pointing at Katerina' s photo. "She's not dead. I saw her a few months ago in a casino in Reno. Her name is Carmen now."

The prison authorities investigated. It was a slow, grinding process, but the truth was undeniable. Katerina Collier was alive.

The day the warden told Aubrey she was free, the world tilted on its axis. She walked out of the prison gates, blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight. The air, crisp and clean, felt foreign in her lungs.

She took a deep breath, a symbolic first taste of freedom.

Alexander was waiting for her, leaning against his sleek, black car. He looked exactly the same, handsome and imposing. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, her body trembling with a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"It's over, baby," he murmured into her hair. "You're home."

The drive back to their house was quiet. The city had changed. New buildings scraped the sky. The cars were different. She felt like a ghost, a relic from another time.

All she wanted was to go home. To their bed. To start forgetting.

"I just want to close my eyes and pretend the last three years never happened," she whispered, her voice raw.

"We will," he promised, his hand squeezing hers. "A new beginning."

He pulled into the long, winding driveway of their modern mansion, a house she had helped design. He killed the engine and turned to her, a strange look on his face.

"There's something you need to know, Aubrey."

Her stomach tightened.

He led her to the front door, his hand on the small of her back. The moment he opened it, her new beginning ended.

Standing in the middle of their marble-floored foyer, looking as if she owned the place, was Katerina Collier.

She was alive. She was here.

A wave of nausea washed over Aubrey. Her knees went weak. The polished floor seemed to rush up to meet her. The air was thick, impossible to breathe.

It was the cliff all over again. The mocking smile. The triumphant gleam in Katerina' s eyes.

"What..." Aubrey choked out, stumbling back. "What is she doing here?"

Katerina just smiled, a slow, cruel curve of her lips.

Aubrey spun to face her husband, her mind screaming. "Alexander, what is this?"

He didn't look at her. He looked at Katerina.

"She lives here now, Aubrey."

The memory hit her like a physical blow. The cliff. The wind whipping her hair. Katerina's taunts.

"He'll never leave me, you know," Katerina had sneered. "He loves me. You're just... comfortable."

"Get away from him," Aubrey had begged, her voice breaking.

"Make me," Katerina had challenged, stepping closer to the edge, a wild look in her eyes. "He'll believe whatever I say."

Aubrey had reached for her, to pull her back, to stop the madness. But Katerina had simply let herself fall backward, a final, victorious smirk on her face as she disappeared from view.

Now, in the foyer, that same madness was happening all over again. Aubrey lunged toward Katerina, a primal scream tearing from her throat.

"You bitch! You ruined my life!"

Before she could reach her, Alexander's arm shot out, grabbing her, spinning her around. He slammed her against the wall, his grip like iron.

"Enough!" he roared, his face inches from hers. The man who had held her hand and promised her a future was gone. This was a monster.

"She's alive!" Aubrey screamed, struggling against him. "She was alive this whole time! Did you know? Did you know?"

He didn't answer. He just tightened his grip, his knuckles white. He looked over Aubrey' s shoulder at Katerina, his expression softening.

"Are you okay, Kat?"

Katerina put a hand to her chest, feigning shock. "I'm fine, Alex. She just startled me."

Aubrey stared at him, the fight draining out of her. The cold, hard truth settled in her bones, a chill that prison could never replicate.

He had known.

All those visits. All those promises. All those lies.

She started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. "You knew. You let me rot in there. For three years."

"You needed to learn a lesson, Aubrey," he said, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper. "You don't challenge me. You don't question what I do."

He finally released her, and she slid down the wall, her legs giving out.

"It wasn't supposed to be for three years," he continued, straightening his cuffs as if he were discussing a business deal gone wrong. "Katerina-Carmen-was supposed to stay hidden. But she got careless."

"Carmen?" Aubrey whispered, the name from the prison rumor mill hitting her.

"Her new identity," Alexander said dismissively. "It was all taken care of. You were supposed to serve a year, maybe less. A little scare to make you more appreciative of what you have."

He gestured around the opulent foyer. "Of me."

Katerina stepped forward, her heels clicking on the marble. "He did it for us, Aubrey. He loves me. But he felt a responsibility to you. He wanted to keep you, but you had to be put in your place."

The world swam. The betrayal was so profound, so absolute, it was like a physical acid eating her from the inside out. Her husband hadn't just cheated on her. He had willingly sacrificed her freedom, her sanity, her life, just to teach her a lesson.

He had let her suffer in hell while he built a new life with the woman who put her there.

"Get out," Alexander said, his voice devoid of any emotion. He was looking at her, crumpled on the floor, as if she were a piece of trash to be discarded.

"This is my house," she whispered, the words catching in her throat.

He knelt, bringing his face close to hers again. His eyes were cold, dead. "No, Aubrey. This is my house. And Katerina lives here now. You don't."

He stood up and offered his hand to Katerina. They stood together, looking down at her. The perfect couple.

"You have no idea what they did to me in there," Aubrey said, her voice a dead monotone. The pain was too big. It was swallowing her whole.

Alexander just shrugged. "You'll be fine. You're a survivor."

He turned and walked away with Katerina, their arms linked. They didn't look back.

Aubrey lay on the cold marble, the echo of their footsteps fading away. The house she had loved, the life she had cherished, the man she had adored-it was all a lie. A cruel, elaborate cage.

She knew, with a certainty that terrified her, that the woman who had walked out of prison that morning was already dead. Aubrey Lowery was too broken to go on.

She closed her eyes.

She needed help. Not to get her life back. That life was a ghost. She needed help to understand the gaping wound that had just been torn open in her soul.

She managed to pull herself up, using the wall for support. She found her purse, her fingers fumbling for her phone. She looked up a number she' d been given by a prison counselor, a therapist who specialized in severe trauma.

Dr. Anya Sharma.

The first session was a blur. The second was when the truth came out.

"It's called Dissociative Identity Disorder," Dr. Sharma explained gently. "DID. The trauma you endured was so extreme, your mind created someone else to handle it. A protector."

Aubrey stared at her. "Someone else?"

"An alter. A different personality state. Have you experienced memory loss? Finding things you don't remember buying? People saying you've done things you don't recall?"

Aubrey thought of the strange, dark-colored clothes she'd found in her meager prison belongings. The whispers from other inmates about a fight she'd supposedly won, a fight she had no memory of.

"Who am I, then?" Aubrey asked, her voice trembling.

"You are Aubrey," Dr. Sharma said. "But there is someone else there, too. Someone born from your pain."

Aubrey went back to the cheap motel she was staying in and stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. She didn't recognize the hollowed-out eyes staring back at her. She was a shell. A ghost.

There was no justice for her. No new beginning. Alexander and Katerina had won. They had taken everything.

What was the point of surviving prison if this was the life that awaited her?

She felt a strange calm settle over her. A decision.

She sat on the edge of the bed and spoke to the empty room, to the other person her mind had created.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "I'm too tired. I'm too broken. If you're in there... if you're strong... you can have it. You can have this life. Just... make them pay."

A profound silence filled the room. Then, a subtle shift. The defeated slump of her shoulders straightened. Her chin lifted. The hollow look in her eyes was replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

She stood up and looked in the mirror again.

The reflection that stared back was not Aubrey.

"Don't worry," a new voice said, low and steady. Her voice, but not her voice. "I'll take it from here."

"My name is Aja."