The Empress Who Buries Her Past

outh to build Alec' s archite

ress, Billie, to frame me for pla

eart attack, Billie used her influe

hostage, forcing me to my knees in

dney," he commanded,

nity off the floor. But th

shed in a plane crash, leaving o

c watched his company crumble under

ss, his hands trembling as he recognize

? You'r

d, cold

Alec. I' m the one who

pte

ted tears. I had just launched "Frazier Designs," a small, bespoke architectural firm I'd poured my soul into for the past six months. It

ce barely a whisper, yet loud en

r expensive dress was rumpled, her usually perfect hair disheveled.

ng none of the turmoil churning inside me.

d practiced. I watched her, my professional facade firmly in place. I was an architect, yes, but also a trained

she choked out between gasps. "The pre

ldn't understand, Cydney. You've always had everything. A loving fami

hasm between us. She was right about one thing; I hadn' t

I asked, my voice calm, almost detached. My he

o cruel, Cydney. You have to sacrifice so much just to survive, to get a t

veiled implication of illicit dealings, it was all too clear.

f footsteps in the hallway outside grew louder. My br

, knowing glint momentarily replacing her d

denly stronger, laced with an unsettling

y Alec' s, appeared. He held a ridiculously large bouquet of vibrant red roses,

s a grotesque parody of every romantic gesture he' d ev

. He hadn't expected to find me here. Or perhaps, he hadn't expected to find Billie with me. The surprise quickl

rnestness, a single, hand-picked daisy from a roadside field, his face flushed with genuine affection. He' d promised me the world then, no

of his empire behind the scenes. We worked tirelessly, fueled by youthful optimism and the fierce belief in each other. He swore he' d make our lives beautiful, that I'

d design. The wealth had come, but the love, the intimacy, the shared future, had withered. My heart ached with a famil

th the faint aroma of fresh paint and new beginnings in my studio. He smiled

held out the roses to me, an absurd gesture of feigned normalcy. "I came to pick up B

ands remained clasped loosely i

, but with an edge I hoped he wouldn't miss. "How intere

r post on that professional networking site, and I just had to tell him how proud I was of you starting your own

wedding day, young, hopeful, naive. I felt a sudden, visceral urge to smash it, to shatter the illusion of a love that had long been dead. But I did

heavy with unspoken meaning. "We

nearby table, their thorny stems scratching against the polished wood. "Ar

her step. She gave me another saccharine smile, her eyes sparklin

or, the first shouts began. A cacophony of voices er

azier, is

iarist! T

usiness after stealing

, the blinding flashes illuminating the once-serene space.

m as the mob surged against the glass door. Their faces, con

demanded, his voice low and f

my voice trembling despite my efforts.

nst Alec' s back, feigning terror. "Oh, Ale

nst the door, splattering red pulp onto Alec's expensive suit. Another foll

see." He completely ignored the barrage of insults and filth, the shouts of "plagiarist" and "home-wrecker" that were now explicitl

nding alone, unprotected, facing the angry crowd. The last thing I saw before the door slammed shu

of what smelled like decaying garbage, hit my shoulder, spilling its contents onto my p

hired just last month, rushed in, her face pale.

desperate to escape the suffocating humiliation. I barely registered t

a waiting car, my phone rang.

"Your father... he suffered a massive heart attack. We need to per

ses. He should have authorized it immediately." My voice was a desperate whispe

ght, just a few lanes over. He was tenderly dabbing Billie's arm with a handkerchief, stroking her hair, his e

my soiled clothes a stark contrast to the quiet dignity of the waiting area. When I reached his room, he was already ho

, barely audible. "Why... wh

frail. "He... he had an emergency at work, Dad," I lied, the words ta

a good man, Cydney, always so busy. You look tired, my gir

ff guard. "Not yet, Dad.

lived a full life." He paused, his gaze distant. "Tell Alec... tell him I'm sorry for trying to stand in the way of your marriage, al

siting hours are over, Ms. Frazier. We

who' d urged me to pursue further studies. "Cydney, the application deadline for t

er, my steadfast champion, was fading, and Alec was tending to Billie' s scraped knee. I was being publicly humiliated, my rep

my escape. My lifeline. My chance to finally choose myself. My fingers t

The next flight to London departs i

me. My thirteen-year marriage, my old life, my very identity as "Mrs. Alec Johns," felt like a heavy a