Betrayed by First Love

Sleep eluded me that night. I tossed in my bed, the events of the past days replaying in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't escape. Dominic's cold eyes in the garden, Kayla's smug smile as she clung to his arm—everything felt wrong, twisted somehow.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight as I finally gave up on sleep. Perhaps fresh air would clear my head. I slipped from my room, my bare feet silent against the cold marble floors of the Scott estate.

A light glimmered from beneath my father's study door. Strange—he usually retired early. Curiosity pulled me forward, my military training making my steps nearly soundless.

"I still don't understand why you didn't just tell her plainly," a voice drifted through the crack—Marcus Thornfield, Dominic's advisor.

"Plainly?" Dominic's laugh was sharp, cruel—nothing like the warm sound I remembered from our childhood. "And risk her causing a scene? The amnesia story was perfect. Clean, simple."

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

"You should have seen her face at the announcement," Dominic continued, amusement lacing his words. "All those medals on her chest, standing there like some kind of statue while everyone watched for her reaction."

"And she believed the amnesia?" Marcus asked.

"Of course she did." Dominic's voice dripped with disdain. "Nina always was too trusting. Too devoted. It made things... convenient."

I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle a gasp. The amnesia—all of it—had been a lie. A calculated betrayal.

"The King was pleased with how smoothly it went," Marcus said. "Though I'm not sure he entirely approves of your choice."

"What choice?" Dominic snapped. "Kayla brings the Scott shipping empire to our union. Nina brings... what? Battlefield stories and a handful of medals?"

I backed away, my heart hammering against my ribs. The man I'd loved since childhood—the boy who'd once carved our initials into that oak tree—had never existed at all.

---

The dining room felt suffocating the next evening. Father had insisted on a family dinner to "celebrate" my return. Kayla sat across from me, her eyes glittering with malice barely concealed beneath a veneer of sisterly affection.

"Nina," Father said, "your mother would be proud of your accomplishments."

The mention of Mother sent a pang through my chest. After her death, I'd kept her ashes in a beautiful porcelain urn—the only thing I had left of her.

"Oh, is this her?" Kayla's voice cut through my thoughts as she rose from her seat, moving toward the mantel where the urn sat. "May I see it?"

Before anyone could stop her, she lifted the delicate container.

"It's lovely," she said, examining it with false admiration. "So... fragile."

Her fingers loosened deliberately, and I lunged forward as the urn slipped from her grasp. Too late—it shattered against the floor, my mother's ashes spilling across the hardwood.

"Oh!" Kayla's hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. "How clumsy of me! I'm so terribly sorry."

But her eyes—her eyes held nothing but satisfaction.

Something snapped inside me. A roar filled my ears as I tackled her to the ground, my hands reaching for her throat.

"You did that on purpose!" I screamed.

Strong arms pulled me back—Father, his face contorted with anger.

"That's enough!" he bellowed. "What's gotten into you, Nina? Your sister apologized!"

"She did it deliberately!" I struggled against his grip, tears blurring my vision.

"Nina Scott!" Father's voice cut through my rage like a whip. "You will apologize to your sister this instant!"

Kayla brushed herself off, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "It was an accident," she said softly. "I would never harm Nina's mother intentionally."

---

"I want justice," I told Dominic the next day, my voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "She destroyed my mother's ashes—the only thing I had left."

We stood in the palace garden again, but this time there was no trace of the boy I'd once loved in his eyes.

"Kayla explained what happened," he said coldly. "An unfortunate accident."

"It was no accident!" I stepped closer, desperation making my voice rise. "Dominic, if you remember anything about us—"

"Enough!" His hand shot out, gripping my arm with bruising force. "You will not speak to me this way."

"Or what?" I challenged, years of military command giving me courage.

His face darkened as he drew his ceremonial dagger from his belt. "You need to learn your place, Nina."

Before I could react, he drove the blade through my uniform, finding the exact spot where I'd been wounded at Blackwater Ridge. Pain exploded through me as he twisted the knife.

"Now," he whispered, his face inches from mine, "you will respect my future wife."

I collapsed to my knees as he withdrew the blade, watching my blood stain the garden path crimson.

"You've forgotten who you are," he said, wiping the dagger clean on my torn sleeve. "Perhaps this will help remind you."