He Murdered My Father For Her

Allyson Cote POV:

"You belong to me, Kennedy."

The words hung in the air.

A chilling echo that resonated deep within my bones.

Kennedy, her voice laced with mock innocence, pressed him further.

"Oh, do I, Archer?"

"Do you even know what love is?"

"Or is it just possession for you?"

Then, a harsh, undeniable sound.

A muffled gasp, followed by the undeniable thud of a body against the wall.

Archer' s fervent, desperate kiss.

And then, the sounds of intimacy, the undeniable proof of their twisted connection, of his profound betrayal.

My world shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

My father.

My heroic, kind father.

Murdered.

Orchestrated by the man I loved, to save the woman he truly loved.

The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth, burning my throat.

Every tender moment, every loving glance, every whispered promise from Archer was now a poisonous dart, piercing my heart.

The memories that once brought me comfort now twisted into grotesque images of manipulation and deceit.

I stumbled back.

My hands flying to my mouth, stifling the strangled sob that threatened to escape.

Tears streamed down my face.

Hot and furious.

Blurring my vision.

My chest ached.

Not from betrayal, but from a profound, terrifying emptiness.

Archer.

This monster was Archer.

I numbly retreated to my bedroom, the sounds from the study a dull throb in my head.

My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger.

Tear-stained cheeks.

Swollen eyes.

A haunted blankness in their depth.

All around me, like ghostly remnants of a life that would never be, hung the wedding dresses.

Ninety-nine of them.

Each one a testament to my foolish hope.

My blind faith.

My utter humiliation.

I ran my hand over the shimmering silk of the latest gown.

A ridiculous confection of lace and pearls.

He'd bought it yesterday, promising me this one would be "the one."

"It's even more perfect than the last, Allyson," he' d said.

His voice dripping with affection.

"Just like our love."

The words were a vile mockery now.

I picked up the phone, my fingers still shaking.

I called Elliott Nolan.

He was my only hope.

After the call, after confirming my escape route, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep an impossible stranger.

My mind raced, replaying every moment, every lie, every stolen breath of my past.

The door creaked open.

Archer stepped in, a soft smile on his face, his eyes heavy-lidded and satisfied. He smelled of Kennedy' s sickeningly sweet perfume, mingling with the sharp tang of his own cologne.

My stomach churned. He moved towards me, his arms reaching out.

"My love," he murmured, pulling me into a tender embrace.

I stiffened, a wave of revulsion washing over me. His touch, once a balm, now felt like a viper's coil. I instinctively pulled away, my body recoiling from the contact.

"What's wrong, Allyson?" His smile faltered.

"Still upset about Kennedy? Don't be silly. You know she's nothing."

His voice was patronizing, dismissive. "You're acting childish."

My blood ran cold.

Childish?

He had just orchestrated my father's death, been intimate with another woman, and now he called me childish.

The rage boiled, a silent inferno within me. But I swallowed it down.

Seven days.I just needed seven more days.

"It's nothing," I forced out, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

"Just a little tired."

He kissed my forehead, seemingly pacified. "Don't worry, darling. Our wedding will be perfect. The 99th time is the charm, right?"

He chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves.

"What about this dress? Did you like it?" He gestured to the latest gown.

"It's… ugly," I said, a flicker of defiance in my voice.

His brow furrowed for a moment, then cleared.

A wide grin spread across his face. "Ugly? You know what? You're right! It's not good enough for you, my queen. Tell you what, let's just… cancel this one too. We'll find something truly spectacular. Something that screams 'Allyson Cote.' We' ll postpone the wedding again, darling. Just until we find the absolutely perfect one."

My heart hammered in my chest.

He was canceling the wedding.

Again.

But this time… this time it was my escape.

He was doing my dirty work for me. My lips curved into a cold, inward smile.

He had no idea.

"Alright, Archer," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Whatever you think is best."

He looked surprised, then pleased.

"My sensible Allyson. Always so understanding." He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, feigning sleepiness.

"Seven days," I thought, "and I'll be free."

Just then, a soft knock on the door.

Kennedy's voice, sweet and childlike, floated in.

"Archer? Are you asleep? I had a nightmare. Can you come comfort me?"

Archer sighed, a theatrical display of patience.

"Of course, darling. I'll be right there." He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, "Sleep well, Allyson. I'll be back in a bit."

He left, the door clicking shut behind him. I could hear their muffled voices, then the soft creak of another door.

Then silence.

A chilling silence.

My countdown had begun.