The Fiancé Who Stole My Life

Elna POV:

The mansion looked the same, yet everything felt different. My old room was still mine, but Katia's presence was everywhere. Her new things were already placed in the guest suite, a splash of vibrant colors against the muted tones I preferred. Her perfume lingered in the air, a cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn.

Garrison seemed lighter, happier. His business ventures were flourishing, his deals closing left and right. His face, once strained with worry for Corliss, now held a relaxed confidence. He often left early and returned late, his phone buzzing with calls and messages. He was always smiling, always laughing, especially when Katia was around.

One evening, he announced a grand celebration. "A victory party," he called it, his eyes shining. "For Corliss's progress, for my latest deal, for… everything good that's happening." He didn' t mention me. He didn' t mention the "correction facility."

A few days before the party, a package arrived in my room. Inside was a dress. A beautiful, emerald-green gown, shimmering silk. It was stunning. Garrison had left a note with it. Wear this. Come alone. Be on time. No endearment. No explanation. Just an order.

On the night of the party, I dressed slowly, my fingers tracing the delicate fabric. It felt heavy, like a costume. I arrived at the grand ballroom alone, just as instructed. The place was already buzzing with guests, a sea of glittering gowns and sharp suits. I felt like a ghost, drifting through the opulent crowd, invisible.

Then, the murmurs started. A hush fell over the room as the main doors swung open. Garrison stood there, radiant in a tailored suit, a dazzling smile on his face. And beside him, her arm linked proudly through his, was Katia.

She was wearing the exact same emerald-green gown.

My breath caught in my throat. My hands clenched, crumpling the silk of my dress. It wasn't a mistake. It was a deliberate, calculated humiliation. Her eyes met mine across the crowded room, a flash of malicious triumph in their depths.

The whispers grew louder, rising like a tide. "Oh, my god, they're wearing the same dress!" "How embarrassing for Elna!" "Is that Garrison's new girlfriend? She's stunning!"

Garrison and Katia swept into the room, a power couple, bathed in the spotlight. They didn't even glance my way. I was a mere shadow, a poorly executed duplicate. The humiliation washed over me, hot and stinging.

I heard snippets of conversation as people passed. "She always was a bit… off," one woman murmured. "Emotionally stunted, you know." Another chuckled. "Poor Garrison, he deserves someone vibrant, not a blank slate."

A wave of nausea hit me. I felt my face flush, a rare heat consuming my cheeks. An unknown emotion, sharp and painful, pierced through my usual numbness. It felt like… deep, profound shame. And a searing rage. For the first time in a long time, I felt something akin to true anger.

I needed to leave. I had to get out. I pushed through the throng of guests, my eyes scanning for an exit. But the doors were blocked, people jostling for a glimpse of the celebrated couple. I couldn' t move. I was trapped.

The ballroom was too warm, the air thick with perfume and chatter. I spotted a small, secluded terrace door and slipped outside, needing a breath of fresh air. The night was cold, the wind biting through the thin silk of my gown. I shivered, but the chill was a welcome distraction from the burning humiliation inside.

After a few minutes, the cold became too much. I re-entered the ballroom, seeking refuge in a quiet corner, trying to blend into the shadows. From my vantage point, I watched Garrison and Katia at the main table, holding court. They looked every inch the perfect couple.

A reporter approached their table, microphone in hand. "Mr. Crawford, rumors are swirling. Who is this beautiful woman by your side tonight?"

Garrison chuckled, a smooth, practiced sound. He glanced at Katia, who smiled demurely. "Katia is… very important to me. To my family. She's been a rock, a source of incredible strength." He evaded the direct question, leaving her status ambiguously elevated.

"She fills out that dress wonderfully," another guest whispered nearby, a woman I didn't recognize. "Not like… the other one. Always so stiff, so cold."

The words were like daggers. I felt small, insignificant. My past, my entire being, reduced to a whisper. This was my life now, wasn't it? A discarded thing, watching the man I loved build a new, shinier world with someone else. A world where I was the inconvenient, unfeeling ghost.

The party finally reached its crescendo. Garrison raised a toast, acknowledging his family, his success, and "the bright future ahead." He didn' t look at me. He didn' t once acknowledge my existence.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the ballroom. A massive crystal chandelier, hanging precariously from the high ceiling, swayed. People looked up, murmuring nervously. A few crystals detached, clinking to the marble floor.

Then, with a terrifying groan, the entire structure began to fall.

It happened so fast. Pure instinct, a primal surge I hadn't known I possessed, took over. Garrison was standing directly beneath it, his back to the descending danger. Katia was next to him, her eyes wide with terror. Without thinking, I lunged forward, pushing Garrison with all my might.

He stumbled, falling away from the direct path of the chandelier. Katia screamed, pulling him further back. I felt a tremendous impact, a blinding flash of white pain. The world went black.

The last thing I saw, before the darkness consumed me, was Garrison's face. He was looking at Katia, his eyes filled with fear and concern, not for me, but for her.

I woke up to the sterile smell of antiseptic. My head throbbed, my body ached. I blinked, disoriented. Hospital. I was in a hospital. The room was stark white, silent. No one was there. No Garrison. No family. Just me. Alone.

My throat was parched. My tongue felt like sandpaper. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain lanced through my side. I gasped, falling back against the pillows. Finally, with a monumental effort, I managed to reach the glass of water on the bedside table. My hand shook so violently, half of it spilled before I could bring it to my lips.

The door creaked open. Garrison stood there, his face grim. My heart gave a strange lurch. He was here. He remembered me.

But then, he threw something onto my bed. A crumpled piece of paper, a small, intricate spring, and a tiny, almost invisible wire. His eyes were cold, hard as chips of ice.

"What is this, Elna?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "What were you trying to do?"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, confused and weak. My head was still fuzzy.

"Don't play innocent!" he snarled, taking a step closer. "The security footage. It shows you, Elna. Right before the chandelier fell. Messing with the wiring. Trying to sabotage it."

Sabotage? My blood ran cold. "No! I didn't! I pushed you out of the way, Garrison! I saved you!"

He laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Saved me? You tried to kill Katia! You were jealous, weren't you? You wanted to hurt her, to get rid of her. Because she's important. Her family. Her connections. Everything."

"That's not true!" I cried, tears welling up in my eyes. "Katia… she's the one who hurt me! She wore the same dress, she humiliated me!"

"And what a tragic coincidence that everything you claimed she did can't be proven, while your actions are crystal clear," Garrison sneered. "We found this near the chandelier. The wiring was tampered with, Elna. And your fingerprints are all over it."

He held up a tablet. A grainy video played. It showed a figure, indistinct but clearly me, standing on a chair near the chandelier, her hands reaching up. It was a perfect, damning frame.

"This is impossible," I whispered, shaking my head. "I didn't… I wouldn't…"

"You always were an enigma, Elna," Garrison said, his voice laced with disgust. "Always so quiet, so devoid of emotion. But underneath that calm exterior, you're a viper, aren't you? A jealous, manipulative viper."

"I am not!" I pleaded, the unfairness of it all a searing pain in my chest. "Katia is the manipulative one! She lied to you! She's cruel!"

"Enough!" he roared, slamming his hand on the bedside table. The glass of water jumped, rattling. "You will not speak ill of Katia! She is a kind, selfless woman who has helped my family immensely. She is innocent! You, Elna, are the one consumed by bitterness and envy."

He stared at me, his eyes filled with a loathing that twisted my insides. "You will pay for this, Elna. You will apologize to Katia, and you will understand your place. You will learn to control yourself. Or believe me, the consequences will be far worse than a few weeks in a facility."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "You know, Elna," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "I used to think that beneath your… unusual nature, there was a good heart. A pure one. But I was wrong. You're just empty. A void. And frankly, I'm tired of trying to fill it."

His words hit me harder than any physical blow. Empty. A void. He saw me as nothing. The tears I had been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. My body shook with silent sobs. It felt like my chest was being ripped open.

I watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound was final. Irrevocable.

Empty. A void.

He was right. I was empty. Empty of hope, empty of love, empty of everything I thought we had. But also, empty of him. And with that realization, a cold, hard resolve settled deep within me.

I would leave him. I would leave this life. I would leave it all behind.