Married To A Five-Year Deception

Name: Married To A Five-Year Deception
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Short stories | Completed

5.0

Comment(s)

1.4K

View

Chapters

My husband, Jackson, was holding hands with a dead woman. For five years, I believed my adoptive sister, Scarlett, had died in a fiery car crash. My perfect, blissful marriage was built on her ashes. But tonight, at a charity gala, I saw her hidden in the shadows with him. She was alive, and beside them stood a little boy with my husband's dark, curly hair. I overheard everything. My family had faked her death, destroyed evidence to save her from prison, and set her up in a beautiful new life. My marriage wasn't love. It was a five-year "penance," a sacrifice Jackson made to keep me from asking questions while he, my parents, and my "dead" sister lived as a secret family. My phone buzzed. A text from her, taunting me. "You should come see all the beautiful things my family has given me." When Jackson found me moments later, his face a mask of fake concern, the urge to scream was a physical force inside me. But I swallowed it down. I looked into the eyes of the man who had demolished my world, forced a smile, and pulled him into an embrace that felt colder than the grave Scarlett was supposed to be in.

Family Betrayal Revenge Hidden identities Transactional love

Chapter 10

09-17 20:36

Chapter 1

My husband, Jackson, was holding hands with a dead woman.

For five years, I believed my adoptive sister, Scarlett, had died in a fiery car crash. My perfect, blissful marriage was built on her ashes.

But tonight, at a charity gala, I saw her hidden in the shadows with him. She was alive, and beside them stood a little boy with my husband's dark, curly hair. I overheard everything. My family had faked her death, destroyed evidence to save her from prison, and set her up in a beautiful new life.

My marriage wasn't love. It was a five-year "penance," a sacrifice Jackson made to keep me from asking questions while he, my parents, and my "dead" sister lived as a secret family.

My phone buzzed. A text from her, taunting me.

"You should come see all the beautiful things my family has given me."

When Jackson found me moments later, his face a mask of fake concern, the urge to scream was a physical force inside me.

But I swallowed it down. I looked into the eyes of the man who had demolished my world, forced a smile, and pulled him into an embrace that felt colder than the grave Scarlett was supposed to be in.

Chapter 1

HANNAH POV:

My husband, Jackson, was holding hands with a dead woman.

Five years. That's how long I'd believed the lie. Five years since my adoptive sister, Scarlett, the woman who had tried to ruin me, had been sent away by my family and reportedly died in a fiery car crash on a winding coastal highway.

Five years of a perfect, blissful marriage built on her ashes.

Tonight was the Beaumont Foundation's annual charity gala. The air in the Charleston ballroom was thick with the scent of gardenias and old money. I smiled, nodded, and played the part of Hannah Beaumont, the long-lost daughter returned to her rightful place, the devoted wife of the foundation's brilliant chief legal counsel.

But the smiles felt tight, the crystal chandeliers too bright. I slipped out onto the stone terrace for a breath of the humid South Carolina air.

And that's when I saw them.

Hidden in the shadows of a grand magnolia tree stood Jackson, my Jackson, his broad shoulders angled protectively. His hand was intertwined with a woman's. Her fiery red hair, the exact shade I saw in my nightmares, caught the moonlight.

Scarlett.

She was alive. And she was laughing, a sound I thought I'd never hear again. Beside them, clutching Jackson's other hand, was a small boy, no older than four, with Jackson's dark, curly hair.

My breath hitched, lodging itself in my throat like a shard of glass. I shrank back behind a marble column, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"You have to be more careful, Scarlett," Jackson's low voice drifted towards me, laced with a familiar tenderness that made my stomach churn. "Someone could have seen you."

"Oh, stop worrying," Scarlett's voice was a purr. "I just wanted to see the party. To see what I'm missing." She squeezed his hand. "Besides, I had to thank you again. And the Beaumonts. **If you hadn't made all that evidence disappear and set up the gallery for me... I'd be rotting in a cell right now instead of living in paradise."**

The world tilted. *Destroyed evidence?*

**"We did what we had to do,"** Jackson said, his voice heavy. **"It was that or let everything unravel."**

Scarlett's tone turned sly, laced with a cruel sort of pity. "And you. Five years married to *her*. Poor Jackson. Was it worth it? Your great sacrifice, your penance, just to keep her from asking questions about me?"

Penance. Sacrifice.

The words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of my mind. My marriage... my life... my love... it wasn't real. It was a five-year-long lie. A deal made to protect a criminal. A cage designed to keep me docile and ignorant.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my clutch. The screen lit up with a picture of my mother.

"Hannah, dear?" Mrs. Beaumont's voice was as smooth as honey, but for the first time, I heard the poison underneath. "Are you alright? I haven't seen you for a moment."

"I'm... I'm just on the terrace," I managed to choke out, my voice a stranger's.

A beat of silence. A sharp intake of breath on her end. "The terrace? Jackson!" she called out, her voice suddenly sharp with alarm. "Go find your wife. Now."

The line went dead.

Seconds later, Jackson appeared from the shadows, his expression a mask of concern. The woman and the child were gone.

"Hannah? What are you doing out here in the cold?" He started to drape his suit jacket over my shoulders, his brow furrowed. "Are you okay? Did you... did you see anyone?"

His eyes darted around the empty terrace, a flicker of panic in their depths. He was checking. He was making sure the coast was clear.

The urge to scream, to claw at him, to demand the truth, was a physical force inside me. But I swallowed it down, letting it burn a hole in my gut. I looked into the eyes of the man I loved, the man who had orchestrated the complete demolition of my world, and I forced a smile.

"No," I whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I just missed you."

He relaxed instantly, pulling me into his arms. His embrace, which had been my home and my sanctuary for five years, now felt like a tomb. For the first time, his touch was not warm.

It was colder than the grave Scarlett was supposed to be in.