Book Trk
They lied to us
Avery’s hands trembled on the steering wheel, each breathing a shallow gasp as she navigated the familiar streets through a veil of tears. Her mind reeled with the overwhelming impossibility-Cathleen had taken her place at the altar-Cathleen, who was supposed to be nothing more than a footnote in Avery’s grand life plan. The sting of betrayal burned hot within her, like salt rubbed vigorously into an open wound. Avery’s heart pounded in her chest in a frantic attempt to escape the suffocating weight of it all. She’d fled from the restaurant, the taste of humiliation heavy on her tongue and threatening to choke her with every swallow.
The gravel driveway echoed under her tires as she raced back to the house. Each pebble seemed to mock her, a cruel reminder of the shattered illusions that awaited her inside. Her fingers trembled as she yanked out the keys, snatched her purse, and carelessly flung off her high heels, discarding them near the car. The shoes felt like shackles, symbols of the false life she had been leading.
Inside, Dora lounged with William, wrapped up in the latest reality TV drama, their own lives an echo of the on-screen theatrics. But at the sight of Avery’s tear-streaked face, Dora surged to action, her maternal instinct sharpened by the scent of a potential scandal. “Darling, why are you crying?” she demanded, her voice edged with a mixture of concern and calculation.
“Mo-Mo,” Avery’s voice hitched, choked out by sobs she couldn’t hold back. She felt like a marionette with its strings cut, her body collapsing in on itself as the truth clawed its way up her throat. It felt like a force beyond her control, a primal urge to let the truth be known despite her attempts to keep it hidden. The tears rushed down her cheeks, hot and sticky against her skin. Each gasp for breath was a struggle, as if her lungs were filled with shards of glass. The weight of the truth hung heavy around her neck, threatening to suffocate her as she struggled to find the words to reveal it all.Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.
“Mo-Mo, what?” Impatience laced Dora’s tone, her eyes scanning Avery for visible signs of trauma, something she could use or fix.
William, from his post on the couch, rolled his eyes at the performance unfolding before him. Another day, another crisis. He reached for his whiskey, the amber liquid that promised oblivion from the petty concerns of the women in his life. His hand grasped the smooth neck of the bottle; it was his lifeline, his escape.
“Don’t you dare walk away; can’t you see she’s hurt?” Dora’s voice rose, tinged with accusation, as she blocked his path.
“Hurt?” William’s response was laced with derision, his gaze sweeping over Avery’s crumpled form, looking for evidence of physical injury. “Where is the blood?” he scoffed, continuing his march toward the sanctuary of his study, where the walls were lined with books instead of family portraits.
Dora’s attention snapped back to her daughter, the air thick with tension as Avery struggled to piece together her broken narrative. Each word was a struggle, and every tear was a testament to the depth of her devastation. The once-proud lioness of New York’s social scene was reduced to a whimpering cub, lost and alone in the jungle that had promised her supremacy.
“Baby, talk to me.” Dora’s voice had an edge of urgency as she hovered over Avery’s crumpled figure on the plush carpet.
In a dramatic display, Avery collapsed further, her body limping like a marionette with cut strings. She lay motionless, a false repose that might have fooled any other mother but Dora.
“Don’t you dare do that to me; it’s just the two of us here. Wake up!” Dora’s command was a whip-crack in the silence of the room, and Avery’s eyes fluttered open, a deluge of tears spilling over her lashes.
“Mother, Mother, I am finished.” Avery’s gasps came in ragged bursts, her chest heaving with the weight of despair. Each breath felt like it was being pulled from her body, a physical representation of the overwhelming emotion consuming her. Tears streamed down her face, leaving wet trails on her cheeks and chin. She could feel the aching pain in her heart, as if it were physically breaking at the seams. The sound of her sobs echoed through the empty room, a mournful symphony that seemed to amplify her pain. In that moment, she felt completely alone and lost in her own sea of emotions.
“Finished? What nonsense are you spouting now?” Dora’s frown etched deep lines into her once flawless face.
“Mother, go and tell old Mr. Knight that I will get married; it was supposed to be me that day, not Cathleen.” Avery’s words were a plea, a last grasp at a future that had slipped through her fingers.
Dora’s expression soured further as she stood upright, leaving Avery to collide with the floorboards beneath the carpet, her fall unbroken. “You are a fool,” Dora spat out, the venom in her voice unmistakable. “You want to marry that good-for-nothing man; I’d rather let you marry Finn than that farm useless boy.”
Avery’s response was visceral, a scream clawing its way up from her gut, raw and accusing. “Mother, they lied to us; that useless farm boy is the president of Knight Group.”
The revelation left Dora motionless, her body rigid as if the air itself had solidified around her. “What did you just say?” The question was hushed, disbelieving, her finger jabbing her ear as though she could physically shake loose the lie.
“Mother, that man-his name is Xavier Alexander Knight, the youngest son of old Mr. Knight. They fooled us, and Cathleen is now married to him!” Avery’s declaration was a shattered mirror, reflecting their broken schemes back at them.
Weakness crept into Dora’s knees; betrayal seeped into her very bones, causing her to collapse alongside her daughter. “How could that be?” The whisper barely escaped her lips; a mix of dread and disbelief carried on the stale air of the opulent room.
In that moment, the truth laid bare the violence of their ambitions and the abuse of their dreams. Family, love, betrayal-all twisted into a single, painful knot that neither woman knew how to untie.