XSTORIES4U: Tales of Love, Lies, and Betrayal - Book 2

Part 21 Engagement Toast Reveals Shocking Truth!

I never imagined a simple dinner would unravel my life. Sitting across from my boyfriend and his so-called "work buddy," the woman I'd heard so much about, I expected a casual evening. But when she toasted to "our engagement," confusion turned to horror as her eyes met mine, and she froze. Her smile faltered as she explained to me, "He told me you were just his close friend." My heart pounded, the room spinning, as he stammered excuses, trying to juggle the truth between us. She looked at him with betrayal, a mirror of my own expression. Two years of my life, a web of deceit, unraveled in minutes. She stormed out, and I followed, leaving him to wallow in his mess. On the street, she and I exchanged stories, realizing the extent of his lies. We both walked away, a silent pact forming between us: never again would we let someone else define our worth. The real revelation came two weeks later. I thought the nightmare was behind me — just a bad chapter closed. But as I tried to move on, strange things began to happen.

It started small: my phone buzzed with anonymous messages. At first, I dismissed them as spam—random texts like "I know what he told you" and "Be careful who you trust." Then, it escalated. My social media accounts were hacked, cryptic posts appearing that I had no memory of writing: "Sometimes, the truth is worse than the lie" and "You can't run from what you don't understand."

I blocked numbers, changed passwords, and even switched my SIM card. But the messages didn't stop. Whoever was behind them seemed to know too much—where I went, who I spoke to, and what I thought. I began questioning if it was my ex or the other woman, twisted revenge from one of them.

Then came the email that froze the blood in my veins. It was from him. Or at least, it looked that way—his name in the "From" field, though I knew it couldn't be him. The subject line was simple: "Did you really think you knew me?"

The email was filled with pictures. Pictures of me. Some from years ago, others from just days earlier, all taken without my knowledge. At the end of the message was a video file. Against my better judgment, I clicked. The video was shaky, filmed inside what appeared to be a dimly lit apartment. But then I saw it—her. The woman from the dinner, tied to a chair, gagged, her mascara running from tears.

Before I could react, text flashed on the screen:
"This could've been you."

I slammed the laptop shut, heart hammering in my chest. Panic set in, and I tried to call the police, but something felt off. When I went to grab my phone, the same email had already appeared there too. As if someone was watching me, knowing my every move.

I thought I had escaped the nightmare by walking away from him that night—but now, I was caught in something far more sinister. The more I tried to make sense of it, the more tangled everything became. I tried reaching out to the woman—if she was still alive—but her number was disconnected, her social media wiped. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth.

And then, three days later, a knock came at my door.

I peeked through the peephole, and there she was. The woman from the dinner. No bruises, no tears—just a perfect smile, as if the night of horror had never happened. My heart raced as I opened the door, my mind spinning with questions.

"You're... alive," I whispered, disbelief dripping from my voice.

Her smile widened. "Of course I am," she said softly, stepping inside uninvited. "But now... we need to talk."

Before I could say anything, she pulled out her phone and pressed play on another video. This time, it showed me—asleep in my bed, filmed from the corner of my room. I staggered back, my breath catching in my throat.

She leaned in, her voice a low whisper. "You were never just his girlfriend. You were part of the plan."

I stared at her, confused and terrified. "What do you mean? What plan?"

Her eyes gleamed with something between amusement and pity. "You think this started at dinner? No, sweetie. He was only the bait. You and I... we've been connected from the beginning. And now, it's time you remember."

The room spun again, this time not from shock but from something deeper—like memories I couldn't quite grasp but that lurked just beneath the surface. Flashes of faces, places, emotions I couldn't explain. I tried to hold onto reality, but it was slipping through my fingers.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice shaking.

She tilted her head and gave me a smile that chilled me to my core.

"I'm your sister."