My Faked Death, His Endless Torment

King, dismissed me as a drama queen. At my adopted sister Isabel' s prom

ig night. He tore up my terminal diagnosis report right i

ut Isabel found me. With a triumphant smile, she confessed everything-she had been slowl

rous confession was being record

. Years later, I had a new life, a new name, and a quiet peace I never thought possible. The

as K

pte

ampbe

ow, agonizing decay from within, but no one believed me. Not my parents, who saw only a fragile burden. Not my fiancé, Ki

ough the plush carpet of the ballroom. His hand, usually so firm and warm, clamped around my w

t chandelier above spinning into a blurry halo. The scent of champagn

s. "King, darling, is everything alright?

es wide and innocent. She wore a dress the color of ice, a stark contrast to the dark circles under my

You know how she is." He turned back to me, his eyes hardening. "This is your sister's moment, Ela.

ion I had barely managed to drag myself to. My parents, Johnie and Clarissa, beamed from across the room, their faces alight with pride for th

, instinctively pulled his hand away. I hit the marble floor with a thud, the impact jarring my

s once again the problem. The thought was a dull ache beneath the sharp physical pain. My parents had told me just this morning, in their clippe

tried to explain the crushing fatigue, the constant aches, the dizzy spells. Each time, I was met with eye-rolls, hushed whisp

hrough my chest. My hand flew to my mouth, but it wasn't en

s, which moments ago had been filled with anger, now

rse, a desperate plea. "The doctor said it's ser

aw a shadow of the old King, the one who used to worry when I cau

urself up so much. You know how sensitive you are. Perhaps it's just a little anxiety attack from all the excitement

ely concealed irritation. "Ela, darling, must you always be so dramatic? Isabel is right. You're fi

ausing. You always do this. It's always about you, isn't it? You're ruining everything." His voice was low, menacing. He leane

a. I understand. Ela just needs a lie-down. I shouldn't have wished for this promotion

tting her back. "You deserve all of this and more. Ela is just... being Ela. Don't let her spoil y

me to ride a bike, who had praised my childish drawings, now looked at me with thinly veiled disdain. Isabel, who had been adopted when I

ed, was not a frightening end, but a quiet escape. A r

splattered onto the pristine white marble floor, a stark, u

n clutching. He unfolded it with an impatient flick. His eyes scanned the words, his face devoid of emotion. "Terminal diagnosis? Chronic poisoning? This is ridiculous. Anot

sound echoing in the sudden silence of the ballroom. The shredded pieces flu

es held warmth, when he' d look at me with tenderness, a flash of shared laughter. Now, they wer

oice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands. "I need you to call t

sane, Ela? After everything we've built? After the merger? You think y

k on him then, my gaze sweeping over the faces of my stunned parents and Isabel, who watched with a mixture of f

g mother. "We have an image to maintain." He didn't even glance back at me as he strode out, Isabel clinging to his arm, casting a triumphant