After Betrayed, I find myself

The hallway bulb flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the faded carpet.

I pushed my key into the lock of our shared apartment.

A ten-hour shift at the lab had drained the energy from my bones. I wanted nothing more than Anderson's arms around me, a warm dinner, and a quiet evening planning our wedding.

I nudged the front door shut.

A sharp slap echoed down the narrow corridor.

Then came a wet, rhythmic sound. Fleshy. Fast.

"Fuck, Fiona. Spread your legs wider."

Anderson's voice. My fianc�� of ten years.

"Right there, Anderson. Fuck my pussy. Harder."

Fiona. My adopted sister.

I froze.

My keys slipped from my fingers, landing on the hall runner with a muted thud.

"You like my cock inside you?" Anderson grunted.

"Yes. God, yes. Shove it all the way in."

The heavy oak headboard slammed against the drywall. Bang. Bang. Bang.

My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. I pressed my palm against the cool plaster of the wall to stay upright.

"I'm going to fuck your pussy until you scream," Anderson growled.

"Yes, Anderson. Fuck me hard. Ruin me."

"Wrap your legs around my waist. I want my cock buried deep inside you."

Bile rose in my throat. I crept closer to the bedroom door, the wood slightly ajar, a sliver of yellow light spilling onto the floorboards.

"Fill my pussy with your cum, Anderson. Fuck, yes."

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat. The frantic slapping sped up, culminating in a heavy weight collapsing onto the mattress.

Heavy pants filtered through the crack in the doorway.

I stared at the sliver of light. Ten years of loyalty. Ten years of building a life, a future, a shared dream.

"Pass me that towel," Anderson said.

"You made a mess of me," Fiona giggled.

"You asked for it."

The rustle of cotton sheets masked the sound of my ragged breathing. My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.

"Anderson," Fiona whispered, her tone shifting from lustful to sweet.

"What is it?"

"Are you really giving me the Harvard university fellowship spot?"

A heavy silence settled over the room.

My fingers curled into fists. I had spent six months drafting that grant proposal. Harvard was my dream. Anderson was the committee chair.

"We talked about this," he said.

"I know, but Andy is your fianc��e."

"Exactly because she's my fianc��e, I'm giving it to you."

His tone held no hesitation. It was the same authoritative voice he used in corporate board meetings.

"She thinks it's hers," Fiona murmured. "She packed a box for Boston yesterday."

"Andy is about to marry into my family and become Mrs. Wills. She doesn't need this."

"You're just going to take her name off the finalist list?"

"I already did."

My nails dug into my palms, breaking the skin.

"As an engaged couple, I need to avoid favoritism," Anderson continued. "It looks bad for the firm."

"She's going to be crushed, Anderson."

"She'll get over it. Her job is to be my wife. Your job is to take this Harvard spot and make the Miller family proud."

"So you're stealing her work to avoid looking biased?"

"I'm reallocating resources. You need the Harvard name on your resume. Andy already has me."

"You're terrible."

"You weren't saying that when my cock was buried in your pussy two minutes ago."

Fiona laughed. "Shut up and kiss me."

Coldness seeped into my veins, freezing my blood.

I didn't cry. A strange, hollow smile stretched across my face. I felt utterly numb.

Ten years of my life, wasted on a man who viewed my career as a disposable asset. A man who fucked my sister in the bed I bought.

A sharp vibration buzzed against my thigh.

I pulled my phone from my coat pocket. The screen illuminated the dark hallway, casting a harsh blue glow over my face.

An email notification flashed across the lock screen.

*University of Oxford - Department of Biosciences.*

*Subject: Official Offer of Employment - Lead Researcher.*

I tapped the screen.

*Dear Ms. Miller, We are thrilled to offer you the position. Your independent research portfolio is outstanding. We await your arrival in the UK.*

I stared at the glowing letters.

Harvard was Anderson's domain. He controlled the fellowship. He controlled Fiona. He thought he controlled me.

But Oxford was mine. I had applied in secret, weeks ago, during a fleeting moment of doubt about our future.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

My jaw unclenched. The suffocating weight in my chest vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp clarity.

I looked at the bedroom door one last time.

"Fuck, you look so good covered in sweat," Anderson murmured.

"Round two?" Fiona teased.

I didn't need to hear anymore.

I turned away from the door and walked into the kitchen.

The moonlight caught the gleam of the diamond ring on my left hand. Two carats. Flawless. A cage disguised as a promise.

I slid the ring off my finger. The metal felt heavy, foreign.

I placed it gently on the granite island counter. It sat there, a silent testament to a decade of lies.

I grabbed my purse from the stool. I didn't need clothes. I didn't need furniture. I just needed to leave.

I turned toward the front door.

My foot caught the edge of the hallway runner.

I stumbled, my shoulder slamming into the decorative mirror hanging on the wall.

The glass shattered. Sharp shards rained down onto the hardwood floor with a deafening crash.

The murmurs in the bedroom stopped instantly.

"What the fuck was that?" Anderson shouted.

The bedsprings creaked. Footsteps pounded against the floorboards, rushing toward the bedroom door.

"Anderson, wait!" Fiona yelled.

The brass doorknob turned.