Betrayed, Then Claimed by Fate

Chapter5 Look at how she f***s my fiancé!

Two Days Later

"That's the last box." Hannah seals the shipping label with efficient movements, lawyer's precision evident even in mundane tasks. "Everything should arrive at your new place by Friday."

My living room looks hollow now, stripped of personal touches that made it feel like home. Just furniture and emptiness—a perfect metaphor for my relationship with Charles.

"I can't thank you enough for this." I hand her coffee in one of the few mugs I haven't packed, settling into my usual spot on the couch one last time.

"Are you kidding? After what that piece of s**t did to you?" Hannah's green eyes flash with protective fury. "I just wish we could nail him right now."

I pull out the folder she prepared—bank statements, transaction records, evidence of theft spanning three years. My attorney's thoroughness would impress me if it weren't documenting my own financial devastation.

"You're sure this will hold up in court?"

"Absolutely. Unauthorized use of your accounts, forged signatures on bigger purchases." She points to a highlighted section with perfectly manicured nails. "This jewelry store receipt alone is worth fifteen thousand. Amy's engagement ring, purchased with your money."

The words hit like physical blows. He bought my sister an engagement ring with my money while planning to marry me for my inheritance.

"Everything's ready to send." Hannah's laptop sits open on the coffee table, cursor hovering over the email that will destroy Charles's life. "One click, and Charles Parker gets hit with fraud charges, theft accusations, and a demand for full restitution."

My finger hovers over the keyboard. It would be so easy—one click to unleash legal hell.

"Not yet." I close the laptop gently. "Let him think he's safe a little longer."

Hannah nods, understanding the predator's patience in my voice. "Your call. But Lynn? When you're ready, we're going to f*****g bury him."

My parents' house feels smaller than I remember, the floral wallpaper too bright, the air thick with Mom's cloying perfume. Dad opens the door with his familiar warm smile, pulling me into an embrace that reminds me of safety, of unconditional love.

"There's my successful daughter." He holds me at arm's length, detective's eyes studying my face with concern. "You look tired, sweetheart."

"Work's been intense." The lie comes easily now—I've become quite the accomplished liar these past few days. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you both about."

Mom appears from the kitchen, flour dusting her apron, silver hair perfectly styled despite an afternoon of cooking. "Lynn, honey. Just in time for dinner." Her smile seems brittle somehow, distracted. "Set the table, would you? Amy's running late."

'Of course she is. Probably too busy f*****g my fiancé.'

We gather around the familiar dining table, pot roast and mashed potatoes steaming between us like a Norman Rockwell painting of family dysfunction. Dad asks about work, about Charles, about wedding plans. I deflect with practiced ease.

"I got offered a position in Los Angeles," I say over dessert, keeping my voice light. "Senior partnership track. Huge opportunity."

Dad's face lights up with genuine pride. "Lynn, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you."

Mom's fork clatters against her plate like a gunshot. "Los Angeles? That's three thousand miles away."

"It's a career move, Mom. The kind that sets up my entire future."

"What about Charles?" Her voice sharpens with familiar disapproval. "What about your wedding? Your family?"

I meet her critical gaze across the table. "It's temporary. A few months to establish myself."

"Months?" Mom stands abruptly, pacing to the window with jerky movements. "Lynn, this is selfish. You can't just abandon your responsibilities."

'Responsibilities. Like being a human ATM for my sister's boyfriend.'

"You've always been like this," she continues, whirling around with her face flushed red. "Never thinking about anyone but yourself. Amy would never do something so thoughtless."

The comparison hits exactly as intended—it always does. Sweet, thoughtful Amy who never causes problems, never disappoints, never makes Mom's life difficult.

"Amy calls me every week. Amy remembers birthdays and anniversaries. Amy doesn't run off across the country when her family needs her."

Dad shifts uncomfortably. "Jenny, maybe—"

"No, David. Someone needs to say it." Mom's eyes burn with righteous maternal fury. "Charles is a good man. He loves her, wants to marry her, build a life together. And she's throwing it away for what? Money? Career advancement?"

The irony is suffocating. If she only knew what her precious Charles really wanted.

"You're getting married in one month, Lynn. For your future husband's sake, if not for your family's, you should stay here where you belong."

The words hang in the air like a challenge. For your future husband's sake. The same future husband currently planning my murder with her favorite daughter.

I stand slowly, chair scraping against hardwood. Rage builds in my chest, hot and lethal.

"Actually, Mom, about that wedding..." My voice is ice-cold, perfectly steady. "Your precious daughter Amy has been f*****g my fiancé behind my back."

Mom's face goes white, then red. "How dare you slander your sister's innocence like this!"

"How dare I?" I pull out my phone, fingers steady despite the fury coursing through me. "You want to know what your perfect daughter does? Let me show you."

I open the video file—the one I've watched, burning every detail into my memory. Charles's naked body. Amy's red hair fanned across my leather seats. Their moans filling the silence.

I turn the screen toward Mom, volume up.

"You look at what your favorite daughter does!" My voice cracks with rage and pain. "Look at how she f***s my fiancé!"