Burried in Lies : The Sin of My Beloved

I hadn't objected when Archie asked me to settle Zac for his nap. Regardless of his origins, the baby was innocent. His presence was merely a tool for his selfish parents, and I couldn’t bring myself to hate him for that.

And yet, as I cradled him in my arms, I couldn't ignore the way my chest ached. Looking at Zac was like staring directly at their betrayal. At the night they had spent together, tangled in passion, exchanging whispered promises and sweat, conceiving the child now nestled in my embrace.

I had seen enough in the way Archie looked at Claire—so deeply, so reverently. The gaze that had once belonged to me was now hers entirely.

Soft footsteps approached, the sound of heels tapping against the marble floor in a careful, deliberate rhythm. I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.

"Wendy," a sweet voice greeted me.

I exhaled slowly, refusing to let her presence unnerve me.

Claire’s footsteps echoed closer, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Yet, she moved carefully—as if not wanting to wake Zac.

How motherly.

"I already know, Claire," I murmured, keeping my voice level. "There's no need to pretend anymore."

"Ah, Wendy," she sighed dramatically, though her cunning eyes never left mine. "Archie and I love each other. We were always meant to be together."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that so? Then why did you leave him at the blessing ceremony? Why drag me into this farce of a marriage, only to return years later acting as if nothing happened?"

Claire folded her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable.

"You should have realised by now, Wendy—you were never meant to be with Archie."

My grip on Zac tightened, but I remained composed.

"I never asked for him," I said. "It was you who left. You made this bed, Claire. Now, don’t act like you’re some innocent victim."

If Zac hadn’t been here, I would have screamed those words at her.

"Stop playing the victim?" Claire scoffed. "How could I, when you ruined my life? When you killed my father?"

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "Me? Your father died in an accident, Claire. I had nothing to do with it."

Claire’s eyes burned with resentment. "He wouldn’t have been in that accident if not for your father’s ridiculous request!"

I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply.

The past came rushing back—years ago, when Claire and I had been young. When we had been friends. When our fathers had worked side by side at Grandfather James’ company—Archie’s grandfather.

I still didn’t understand where her hatred stemmed from. All because my father had made a request? Even though he, too, had died that day?

My father had been suffering from a rare disease. Claire’s father—his younger brother—had spent days searching for medicine across the city. But exhaustion took its toll. He never made it home.

And yet, Claire refused to see reason. She blamed me for everything.

"After making my father die, you took Archie away from me," she spat. "You took everything that was mine."

"I told you—I never took him from you!" My voice trembled with frustration. "And I didn’t kill your father! You need to stop blaming me for fate!"

Claire’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Fate?" she whispered. "Fate didn’t make my father get into that car that night. Fate didn’t make Archie fall for you instead of waiting for me."

I clenched my fists. "You left him. You made that choice."

Claire shrugged, then her expression darkened.

"But I’m back now," she said softly. "And I’m taking back what’s mine."

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Zac stirred, whimpering in his sleep.

Before I could react, Claire turned towards the cot, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. She smiled, stroking his tiny hand. Then, without warning, she raised her voice.

"Please, Wendy, don’t!" she cried out, her tone laced with fear.

I blinked in shock.

"Wendy—how could you?!" Claire gasped dramatically. "You were trying to hurt Zac—!"

The room spun.

"What?" My voice came out hoarse, breathless. "Bloody hell, that’s not true!"

Claire stumbled back as if recoiling in horror. And then—

Footsteps thundered down the hall.

Archie burst through the door, eyes wild. He took in the scene—Zac crying, Claire’s stricken expression—and then turned to me.

"What the hell is going on?" His sharp gaze flickered between us.

Claire hiccupped, her tears flowing effortlessly. "I was just telling Wendy the truth," she sobbed. "But she—she got angry and tried to harm Zac. I tried to stop her, but she lashed out at me instead."

My stomach twisted. "What?!"

Archie’s expression darkened as he looked at his son’s red, wailing face.

"Wendy," his voice was low, dangerous. "Tell me Claire is lying."

I opened my mouth, my mind racing for words, for anything—but Zac’s cries only grew louder.

I saw it then. The way Archie’s jaw tightened. The way his eyes burned with suspicion.

And I knew—he had already made his choice.

His voice was ice when he spoke. "I can’t believe you, Wendy."

Tears pricked my eyes. "I didn’t do anything, Archie! You have to believe me!"

Archie laughed—a sharp, bitter sound.

"Believe you?" His gaze seared into me. "How many times have I believed you, Wendy? And what has it ever given me? You couldn’t even take care of your own pregnancy—when I was so looking forward to it!"

My breath hitched.

"You weren’t looking forward to it!" I snapped, my voice breaking. "You—you killed my son for him!"

A sharp crack filled the air.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

I stumbled back, my face burning. My hands trembled as I touched my skin, realising—Archie had just slapped me.

A stunned silence fell between us.

Archie exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I can’t do this anymore," he murmured. "I won’t do this anymore. You always play the victim, Wendy. But maybe it’s time you realise—you were never the victim at all."

I stood frozen, tears blurring my vision.

But what truly shattered me—what drove the knife deeper into my chest—was what he did next.

He turned away.

Walked to Claire.

And as I watched, powerless, he reached out—stroking Zac’s head, his touch tender, affectionate.

A family.

Their family.

As if I had never even been part of his life at all.