Ninety-Nine Engagements, One Betrayal

Dayna POV:

His men, silent and imposing, appeared almost immediately. They grabbed me, their hands firm, unyielding. I struggled, but their strength was overwhelming. A cold dread washed over me. The isolation room.

My mind, already fragile, snapped back to a childhood nightmare. Kidnapped. Blindfolded. Trapped in a dark, suffocating space. The crushing weight of the walls, the desperate scramble for air. Claustrophobia. My greatest fear.

He knew. Brooks knew. I had told him, in one of my endless monologues, about the terrifying experience, the years of therapy, the lingering fear of enclosed spaces. He had held me then, comforting me, promising to always protect me from my demons.

"I will never let anything hurt you again, Dayna," he had whispered, his voice a rare comfort. "Never. You're safe with me."

Lies. All of it. He wasn't protecting me. He was weaponizing my fear. For Everleigh. Always for Everleigh.

I was shoved into the room. It was small, windowless, the air thick and heavy. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, plunging me into absolute darkness. Panic seized me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath caught in my throat. I clawed at the walls, my nails tearing, desperate for an escape. The memories flooded back, suffocating me, drowning me in terror.

I curled into a ball on the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably, every nerve ending screaming in protest. But even in my terror, a stubborn defiance ignited within me. I would not break. Not for him. Not for Everleigh. Not when my sister's memory, her dignity, was at stake. I would endure. I would survive.

Three days and nights blurred into a hellish eternity. My throat was raw from screaming, my body weak from hunger and thirst. I was on the verge of collapse, my mind teetering on the edge of madness.

Then, a cold, disembodied voice echoed through the room. Brooks's voice. "Still stubborn, Dayna?"

I looked up, my eyes, weak from the darkness, straining to see. Tiny pinpricks of light. Cameras. Everywhere. He had been watching me. Watching my terror, my struggle, my complete breakdown. He had seen my claustrophobia, my deepest fear, unfold before his eyes, and he had done nothing. He had revelled in it.

The realization hit me harder than any physical blow. He wasn't just indifferent. He was cruel. He was a monster. The man I had loved, the man I had married, was capable of a calculated malevolence that chilled me to the bone.

A fresh wave of anger, cold and clear, washed over me, eclipsing the fear. I screamed, a primal, guttural sound of pure rage, and then, mercifully, the darkness consumed me.

I woke in a hospital bed, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the suffocating black of the isolation room. My head throbbed, my body ached, but my mind was clear. On the bedside table, a crisp, white note. Brooks's elegant handwriting.

Everleigh is fine. She's been released. Don't worry. Brooks.

No mention of my condition. No apology. Just a casual update on his precious sister. I ripped the note into tiny pieces, a dry, bitter laugh escaping my lips.

Then, a sudden realization sparked through me. The date. Today was the final day of the cooling-off period. And Everleigh's engagement party, the one that had been called off, was due to be re-announced this evening. A live-streamed charity gala.

I ripped the IV from my arm, the needle tearing a small wound. Ignoring the nurse's frantic cries, I grabbed my clothes and dressed, my movements fueled by a newfound purpose. I needed to get to the civil registry office. And then, I needed to make a very public statement.

The divorce papers were finalized in a blur. The clerk, a kind-faced woman, offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure about this, dear?"

"Never been surer," I said, my voice steady.

Just as I stepped out, my phone rang. Brooks.

"Dayna," his voice was annoyingly calm. "I hope you're feeling better. I'm glad you're not doing anything rash."

"Never better, Brooks," I said, a dangerous edge to my voice.

"Good. Look, about tonight's gala. It's important for the family's image, you understand. After everything with Everleigh, we need a united front. So, if you could just... make an appearance, stand by my side. For a little while. Just to reassure everyone that everything is fine."

I almost laughed. He wanted me to be his prop again. His smiling, talking prop. But this time, the words I would speak would not be for him.

"Of course, Brooks," I said, my voice sweet, cloying. "I'd be delighted."

He sounded relieved. "Excellent. I knew you'd understand. I'll see you there." He hung up.

I smiled. A cold, hard smile that didn't reach my eyes. I hailed a cab, not to the gala, but to the airport. I had a different kind of appearance to make.

As I sat in the airport lounge, waiting for my flight to Paris, my phone vibrated. A video call. Brooks. Live-streamed from the gala.

The host, a bubbly socialite, was gushing about the Preston family's resilience. "And here we have the lovely Mrs. Dayna Preston," she chirped, turning the camera towards me. "Looking absolutely radiant! And such a devoted sister-in-law, always supporting Everleigh!"

I looked into the camera, my face calm, my eyes clear. "Yes," I said, my voice resonating with a newfound strength. "Devoted. And I have a special message for Everleigh tonight." I looked directly at the camera, my gaze piercing. "Everleigh, darling, congratulations on your re-engagement. I'm so happy for you. And for Brooks. Because now, you can have him. I've already divorced him. He's all yours."