From Broken Sister To Beloved Wife

Jenna POV:

The city streets glittered with holiday lights, a festive blur that felt alien to me. Strangers laughed, bundled in scarves and hats, their joy a stark contrast to the hollow ache in my chest. Home. The word had lost all meaning. It was an illusion, a cruel joke played on my memory. I walked aimlessly, my feet carrying me further and further away from the only place I'd ever known.

A sharp gust of wind brought with it the scent of damp earth and distant smoke, triggering a memory. The plane crash. The twisted metal, the acrid smell of burning fuel, the impossible stillness that followed. Mom and Dad, gone. Just like that. In the blur of shock and grief, it was Howard who had held me, his arms shaking but strong, promising to always protect me. Bryan, usually so boisterous, had been quiet, his hand gripping mine until my knuckles ached. Who were these men now? The strangers who eyed me with suspicion, who believed every lie woven by a con artist?

They had pledged to protect me, to keep our family united. Instead, they had thrown me to the wolves, or rather, invited the wolf into our den, and then blamed me for the sheep' s wounds. But not anymore. My plane ticket to Zurich was a one-way trip to a future where their betrayal meant nothing. I would be free. And in that freedom, I hoped they would find whatever twisted version of happiness they were chasing.

I'd always been the odd one out, the unexpected late-life child. My parents, consumed by the voracious appetite of Salazar Analytics, a data brokerage firm that operated in the shadows, had largely entrusted my upbringing to my older brothers. I was a child of their empire, not their leisure. They were busy building their legacy, and I was just… there.

Howard, for all his sternness, had once tackled a bully twice his size for teasing me about my thick glasses. Bryan, reckless and wild, had once snuck me onto the roof on a clear night, pointing out constellations, swearing we' d discover a new star together. They were my world. My everything.

Then the plane crash. A sudden, brutal end. Howard, barely out of college, stepped into Dad's shoes, burdened by a legacy built on secrets and morally ambiguous data collection. The empire, unstable and vulnerable, needed a steady hand. He tried. He really did.

That' s when Francis Carr appeared. Introduced by Howard as the "orphaned son" of Dad's most loyal partner, a man who had died years ago, leaving behind a destitute family. Or so they claimed. I still remember Howard, his eyes gleaming with a misguided sense of duty, bringing Francis into our home. "He's family now, Jenna," he'd declared, not realizing how those words would twist into a blade.

It didn't take long for me to find the discrepancies. Old medical records, carefully hidden away, revealed Francis's true identity. Not a direct descendant, but a distant relative, a sickly child whose manipulative mother had orchestrated this elaborate charade. They had erased his old life, meticulously crafting a sympathetic narrative, transforming him into the tragic, deserving heir.

I tried to tell Howard, to warn him. He dismissed me, accused me of jealousy, of fabricating lies. He showed me forged documents, insisted on his "responsibility" to Dad's supposed best friend. He chose to believe a carefully constructed fiction over his own sister.

I watched Francis systematically dismantle my family from the inside. A misplaced heirloom, a whispered secret, a staged accident. He' d "accidentally" stumble upon my private notes, feign innocence when caught, and then twist my words, making me sound possessive, ungrateful. I was no longer the brilliant innovator; I was the spoiled, dramatic younger sister. My brothers, blinded by Francis's charm and their own guilt, swallowed it whole.

"She pushed me," Francis had whimpered once, pointing to a scratch on his arm that I knew he' d inflicted himself. And just like that, I became the dangerous one, the one who caused harm.

"Are you truly alright, Jenna?" Cesar's voice echoed in my mind, pulling me back from the dark memories. The rain outside intensified, mirroring the storm within.

"I'm fine," I murmured, wiping away a stray tear. I had to be. This was it. The final curtain. If they didn't want the truth, then they could live in their lies. I would build a new life, a new empire, where truth and loyalty actually meant something.

The next morning, I was back in the office, a hollow resolve guiding my hands. My projects, my life's work, lay before me, waiting for their final touches. I heard my brothers' voices in the hallway, their laughter mingling with Francis' s softer tones. A familiar annoyance prickled under my skin.

Then, the sound of footsteps approaching my lab door. I looked up to see Howard, Francis by his side. My lab, my sanctuary, my forbidden zone. I had explicit warnings against unauthorized entry, especially when I was working on sensitive algorithms.

"He can't come in here, Howard," I stated, my voice firm. "I'm in the middle of a critical encryption sequence. It's too sensitive."

Howard waved his hand dismissively. "He just wants to look, Jenna. Don't be so dramatic."

I didn't argue. What was the point? I simply stood, walked past them, and went to the breakroom, hoping for a moment of peace before returning to finish my work.

When I came back, the faint, metallic scent hit me first. My custom-synthesized neuro-linker compound, crucial for the project I was finalizing, was gone. My blood ran cold. I searched frantically, my eyes scanning every surface, every shadow. Then, I saw it. The small, crushed vial, half-empty, carelessly tossed into the waste bin.

My hands trembled as I retrieved the ruined flask. Years of research, hours of meticulous work, shattered. I knew. I just knew. The lab cameras had been conveniently offline, as they often were during Francis's "curiosity" tours.

Francis sat at his desk, humming softly, a picture of innocent distraction. His eyes, though, held a flicker of triumph when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Francis," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Did you touch my compound?"

He blinked, wide-eyed, then burst into theatrical tears. "Jenna! How could you accuse me? I would never!"

Just then, Howard burst in, his face contorted with rage. "What have you done to him, Jenna? Can't you see he's upset?"

"He ruined my compound, Howard," I explained, my voice tight with frustration. "The one I've been working on for months. He threw it away."

"Prove it," Howard demanded, his arms crossed.

"I can't," I admitted, my shoulders slumping. "The cameras were off. But I know he did it."

Howard turned to Francis, who was still sobbing softly. "Did you, Francis?"

Francis shook his head, his voice muffled by his hands. "No, Howard. I swear."

"There, you see?" Howard said, turning back to me, his voice laced with finality. "He said no. That's enough for me."

My chest felt hollow. The unfinished work. The impending departure. It was almost poetic, the way they were forcing my hand, pushing me out the door. The door I was already halfway through.

Howard followed me out, his eyes narrowed, watching my every move. "You've been acting strangely lately, Jenna," he said, his voice low. "I'm warning you, don't take your frustrations out on Francis."

I stopped, turning to face him, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Why, Howard? Why do you always make excuses for him? What exactly are you protecting? The sheep, or the wolf in sheep's clothing?"

His eyes flashed, but before he could respond, I stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, leaving his stunned face behind me.