Broken Promises
1152 Words
The days after the shooting blurred together, a storm of reporters flashing cameras, and whispered conversations that faded when Anika walked into the room.
The world called it a tragic accident.
She called it a betrayal.
She hadn’t eaten in two days. The taste of blood and smoke still clung to the back of her throat from that night, the way Liam’s shirt had felt in her hands, the way his eyes never opened again.
The O’Connell estate, once radiant with celebration, had turned into a mausoleum. White lilies lined the halls where gold chandeliers still burned, and the air smelled like grief wrapped in expensive perfume.
Anika stood by the window in the guest suite they’d given her, staring at the lake in the distance, the same lake where her world had ended.
Behind her, someone knocked softly.
She didn’t answer.
“Anika,” came the gentle voice of Rita, Liam’s mother. “Sweetheart, please… eat something.”
Anika didn’t move. “Did they release him?”
Rita hesitated. “Colby is… being questioned. The police are still investigating.”
“Investigating,” Anika repeated, the word bitter in her mouth. “He was there. He had a gun. What else do they need to ‘investigate’?”
Rita’s voice broke. “You know Colby loved his brother. He…”
“Loved him enough to shoot him?” Anika turned sharply, her eyes red but steady. “Don’t ask me to defend him.”
Rita flinched, tears filling her eyes. “We’re all hurting, Anika, but there are… other matters we need to discuss.”
Anika frowned. “Other matters?”
“The companies,” Rita whispered. “The merger. The press is circling. Investors are panicking. Your father is already…”
“My father can wait,” Anika snapped.
Rita sighed softly. “If the merger collapses now, both families lose everything. Liam wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Anika’s laugh was cold, hollow. “Liam didn’t want to die either.”
Rita’s eyes filled again, and for a moment, they just stood there, two grieving women bound by love and loss, staring at a future that neither wanted.
Later that evening the Morells arrived.
The atmosphere in the O’Connell mansion changed instantly, colder, heavier. Alexander Morell, Anika’s father, walked in flanked by his sons, their expressions carved from steel.
Colby was there too, pale, exhausted, still wearing the black suit from his brother’s funeral. His hands trembled slightly, but his face betrayed nothing.
When Anika entered the study, every conversation stopped.
Her father stood. “Anika,” he said. “Sit down.”
“I’ll stand,” she replied, voice flat.
Alexander exhaled through his nose. “You know what’s at stake. The companies can’t afford a scandal. The media is spinning stories, the board is nervous. That is why we think it’s best if you get married to Colby.”
“Then tell them to wait,” she cut in. “I won’t marry him. I won’t marry my fiancé’s killer.”
Across the room, Colby’s jaw tightened. “No one’s asking you to,” he said quietly. “I already told them it’s not right.”
Alexander’s gaze flicked between them, sharp and calculating. “Right or not, it’s necessary.”
Anika stared at him. “You think marrying him will save our reputation?”
Alexander’s tone hardened. “It will stabilize both empires. Your marriage to Liam was meant to symbolize unity. Without it, everything collapses, shareholders, contracts, investors. The vultures are waiting.”
“And what about what I want?” she demanded.
“What you want stopped mattering the moment Liam died,” her father said, voice cold. “This isn’t just about love anymore, Anika. It’s about survival.”
For a moment, silence filled the room, suffocating and sharp.
Rita reached out to her. “He’s right, dear. The board is threatening to withdraw funding. The press is tearing Colby apart. They need something to believe in.”
Anika looked at Colby, really looked at him. His face was drawn, eyes shadowed, guilt and grief fighting for space there.
She wanted to hate him. She needed to.
But there was something about his stillness, the kind of pain that couldn’t be faked.
“I didn’t kill him, Anika,” he said softly, meeting her eyes for the first time since that night. “I swear to you I didn’t.”
She looked away before the ache in her chest betrayed her. “Oh please, then who did?”
Colby hesitated. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll find out.”
Her father straightened. “Then you’ll find out as her husband.”
Anika’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“The wedding will go ahead with Colby,” Julian said firmly. “The date won’t change. The press will never know what truly happened. By the time the dust settles, everyone will see the O’Connells and Morells united.”
Colby stood abruptly. “Mr. Morell, that’s…”
“It’s business,” Alexander interrupted coldly. “And business doesn’t pause for grief.”
Anika’s hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms.
“This is madness.”
“Welcome to power, sweetheart,” Alexander murmured.
That night Anika sat alone in the guest room, the wedding dress still hanging in the corner, untouched, haunting. The world outside her window glimmered as if nothing had changed.
A soft knock came at the door.
Colby.
He stepped inside slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to talk them out of it. I swear I did.”
She turned toward him, her eyes hard. “And yet you’re still here.”
“I don’t want this any more than you do,” he said. “But if it keeps both families from tearing each other apart, maybe… maybe it’s worth it.”
“Worth what? Marrying your brother’s fiancée? Living a lie?”
He looked at her, pain etched deep in his face. “If that lie keeps them from destroying everything Liam built… then maybe.”
She stared at him for a long time, then said quietly, “owh, now I see. It's starting to make sense. You killed Liam so that I would marry you.”
“Come on now Anika, you don't know what you're talking about .”
“Oh I know exactly what I'm talking about, you are selfish and greedy.” Anika said angrily, “just leave me alone.”
Colby left quietly.
Outside, thunder rolled again, a cruel echo of the night that started it all.
And somewhere deep in the house, a man poured himself a drink, listening to the rain.
Uncle Richard O’Connell smiled faintly as he folded the anonymous letter he’d just sent to the police, the one that “proved” Colby’s fingerprints were on the gun.
The game had just begun.
- Writer
