The scapegoat

"I have to be in Greece right now."

What? Greece?

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause.

Greece?

My mind couldn't quite process what he'd just said. We had just caused the biggest scandal imaginable, and now he was telling me he needed to leave the country?

Tomorrow's headlines were already going to be worse than anything I'd ever experienced. I had no doubt about that. The whispers would be relentless, the judgments harsher than when the world first discovered I wasn't really a Callisto. At least then, I hadn't done anything that could be construed as erroneous. But this? I may have played along, but this was all Christian's doing.

I knew they would delude their self into believing that I orchestrated everything, after all, it would be easier to serve me on a platter than The Christian Gulf. The tabloids were sure to spin it in ways that would paint me as the villain. It was almost cruel, knowing he wasn't going to be by my side when the consequences of his actions came crashing down on me.

I didn't expect Christian to hold my hand through the storm. I would never ask him to. But to leave me to face this alone? To throw me to the wolves while he fled to Greece? That was beyond heartless.

I couldn't stop shaking during the wedding procession, and Christian knew it. He had seen the way my hands trembled, how my breath came in short, uneven gasps. There was no escaping the eyes that followed me, the whispers that seemed to echo in the air. I could feel them judging me, condemning me as if I were the one who had orchestrated this entire mess.

The eyes of the crowd were suffocating, their gazes weighing down on me with every step I took. It was overwhelming. But Christian had been my anchor. Even in the midst of all the chaos, he had been the one to keep me grounded. His voice, a quiet whisper in my ear, had been the only thing that had kept me from losing my mind.

"This isn't on you," he'd told me, and it was the only thing that made sense in that moment. I knew it wasn't my fault. But knowing didn't stop the hurt, the guilt, the shame. His words had been everything I needed to hear. They were the lifeline that kept me from drowning in the suffocating weight of it all.

"You did nothing wrong. Don't let it get to you."

His voice had been soothing, like a balm to my raw emotions, but it didn't erase the sting.

The moment the priest asked for my vows, I could barely hear him. The muttering of the crowd grew louder, more insistent in my mind. They were already condemning me, even before I had spoken the words that would bind me to this man.

"I do." The words slipped from my lips, and they felt like a betrayal. Not of Christian, but of myself. When Christian kissed me, there was nothing. No sparks. No butterflies. Just emptiness. I couldn't even feel him, couldn't feel the connection that I had once hoped would be there.

I watched as the Callisto's stood and walked out. My father's gaze lingered on me for what felt like an eternity. I wanted to run to him, to explain, to beg for his forgiveness, but I couldn't. A small part of me, the part that had been abandoned by them, didn't want to. They had helped their daughter hide my parents.

So, I did the only thing I could: I steeled my heart. I chose to be the villain, the bad guy in this story. I told myself it was a sacrifice, a necessary one, but even now, a small part of me wished I had made a different choice.

The reporters swarmed us, their questions pointed and cruel, disguising their insults as inquiries. But Joshua and another security guard kept them at bay, their large frames acting as shields between me and the vultures. Still, their words found a way through. The sting of their cruelty was inescapable.

By the time Christian and I arrived at his house, my nerves were a wreck. The Gulf mansion loomed ahead of me, imposing and foreign. It was meant to be my new home, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't belong here.

Christian's assistant was waiting inside. Vera, with her blonde hair and perfectly manicured nails, gave me a look that screamed contempt. The moment she saw me, I could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

"You're leaving?" I couldn't hold back my shock.

Christian didn't even look up from the stack of documents Vera had been thrusting at him. "I'll be back in a few weeks," he said without emotion.

"A few weeks?" My voice pitched higher in disbelief. "It's our wedding night, Christian. What the fuck do you think people are going to say when they find out you left me here alone?"

His response was cold, indifferent. "No one will know." He returned to his work without another word, as if the matter were settled.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Christian's lack of concern was as sharp as a knife. But it was Vera's actions that really began to eat at me. She stood just a little too close to him, her hand grazing his in a way that felt… too familiar. And Christian? He didn't seem to care at all. Was he that wrapped up in his work, or was this normal?

The thought made my skin crawl.

"So you're just gonna leave me here, in this huge house with your parents who are probably furious with me. God. Who knows what they'll do to me?"

I wasn't afraid of his parents anymore than I was afraid of him. And knowing the architecture of the house, I was sure they wouldn't come over to our side. 

"You think my parents will hurt you?" He almost sounded angry, "you don't have to worry about that."

"So you're really just going to leave me? Just like that?" I heard the almost pleading in my voice too late. 

I cursed under my breath, and hoped he didn't read anything to it.

If he did, he didn't show it. Christian didn't move. He didn't even come close. Instead, he spoke from his spot across the room, his voice flat. "It's important business."

He didn't apologize. He didn't even seem to care that I was alone in a house full of people who probably hated me.

Before he left, he called over Clara, the house manager, a stunning woman in her early thirties, and gave her a simple instruction: "Help her settle in." He turned and walked out of the room without another glance in my direction.

I was left standing there, the weight of my new reality crashing down on me. The Gulf mansion was now my home. For the next five years.

Clara led me through the house, showing me to my room. The space was impressive—stately and grand in every way. The living room alone could have swallowed me whole. Yet, despite its size, there was something comforting about it. The wooden beams, the warm tones, the plants that decorated the room, all of it created a sense of… home? It was strange, considering everything that had happened. But the softness of the room, the cozy fireplace, and the vintage feel of the mahogany furniture almost made me feel at peace. Almost.

My bags were already unpacked by the time I made my way upstairs. The room was perfect. Clara's smile was genuine when she said, "If you need anything, Mrs. Gulf, don't hesitate to ask."

I smiled back, grateful for the small kindness. She was the only one in the mansion who seemed to care, and in that moment, it was a small relief.

***

The headlines the next morning didn't surprise me, though they still hurt.

"Switched at birth, switched on wedding day."

"The ungrateful girl who stole the Callisto's son-in-law."

"Raising someone else's child always comes back to bite."

The insults were relentless, but the one that cut the deepest was the silence surrounding Christian.

Not a single article questioned him. Not a single word about the man who had orchestrated this entire disaster.

What was it? Fear? Or was this just the power of Christian Gulf? The power I needed to get my revenge.

I was furious when my phone rang. I was hesitant to take it at first, but after a few rings, I answered.

"What?" I bit out, my voice more hostile than I intended. But I felt unapologetic.

"Nice to hear your voice, wifey." His tone was too casual, too carefree.

I could feel my anger rising. "Why are you calling, Christian? What do you want?"

"I can't check up on my wife?"

"Are you serious? Have you seen the headlines? You made me the villain, and this wasn't even my idea!" My voice broke slightly, but I didn't care.

"Alora, chill. It's just talk. No one's going to hurt you."

Just talk. The words tasted like poison.

I almost asked him if he didn't care. Who was I kidding. He obviously didn't.

"You have any idea what they're saying about me? I can't deal with you right now." My disappointment was etched in every word, and I truly hoped he had heard it.

Without waiting for him to respond, I hung up.

My phone chimed almost immediately. Christian's name popped up. 

What did he want now?