99 Apologies: My Fiancé Cheated with My Stepsister

My stepsister spent ten years fighting me for my pilot fiancé, Marcus Sinclair—but his eyes were always on me.

Until six months ago, when he somehow ended up in bed with her.

After his ninety-ninth apology, I caved.

He swore he'd never let me down again.

Then the call came from the police station.

The officer shifted uncomfortably:

"During a routine check last night, your fiancé's car was illegally parked on Park Lane. He was fully undressed with your stepsister… engaged in sexual activity."

"When asked to move the vehicle and present ID, he refused to cooperate and verbally abused our officers."

I paid the bail and signed the paperwork on autopilot.

All I could see was him on his knees, swearing:

"If I, Marcus Sinclair, ever wrong you again—may God strike me dead."

I hurled his clothes at him.

He pulled my stepsister into his arms, shielding her:

"It's my fault—I'm despicable. I couldn't control myself. She's fragile. Don't take it out on her."

In that moment, everything clicked.

A stone pulled from a sewer will always stink, no matter how hard you scrub it.

........

Chloe's eyes were red-rimmed, her body trembling in his arms.

My chest felt packed with wet cotton—I couldn't draw a single breath.

Marcus's slender fingers wiped the tears from Chloe's face.

His voice held the tenderness I'd once craved more than anything—yet his words cut the deepest:

"It's not Chloe's fault. I was the one who led her astray…"

"I never meant to hurt you. At first, I just wanted to take her out to cheer her up,"

"but whenever I see Chloe, I… I can't control myself. I'm sorry."

These apologies—I'd lost count of how many times he'd fed them to me.

This time, I was truly done listening.

I didn't smash anything. Didn't shed a tear. Just flung a shirt at him to cover that lying face.

That look of his—as if losing me meant losing the whole world—hadn't changed one bit.

But the fierce protectiveness that once belonged only to me now belonged entirely to another woman.

"So you lied to me again. You've been seeing her this whole time, haven't you?"

I didn't know until I read their statements today.

Marcus hadn't changed at all. He'd never given up his obsession with Chloe.

He'd simply gotten better at hiding her in places I'd never think to look.

Picturing the two of them tangled together, half-undressed—I couldn't help but replay all ninety-nine of his seemingly heartfelt apologies.

He'd certainly gone to great lengths to win my forgiveness.

He'd never believed in God or fate, yet somehow dragged himself to a temple, bowing with every step, praying I'd forgive him.

*"Viv, I climbed 1,001 steps on my knees and got the Destiny Stone for us. Give me one more chance—I swear I won't let you down."*

So I swallowed my pain and forgave him.

Once again handing him my whole heart.

But today, his actions showed me exactly how foolish I'd been.

"Viv, you know Chloe's always been delicate. She's barely started her career—if this gets out, it'll ruin her."

"But you're different. You're her sister. Can't you just help her ride this out?"

Marcus actually had the nerve to ask me to take the fall for Chloe.

It reminded me of our very first fight—which was also about Chloe.

He'd accused me of knowing Chloe was frail, yet deliberately taking her swimming, causing her to spike a fever afterward—and called me malicious for it.

He even threatened to break up with me if I didn't go apologize to Chloe.

I was devastated. It was Chloe who'd invited me in the first place.

My father—who always favored my stepsister—punished me by making me kneel for an entire day without food or water.

And Marcus didn't care. He just kept yelling at me.

"You wore Chloe out on purpose, then demanded I take you to a concert right away. What about her!"

"She already has poor circulation, and now look what happened! Viv, how can you be so heartless!"

Whenever anyone so much as scratched Chloe, he turned into a snarling beast.

As my mind snapped back, the Marcus standing before me blurred into that old memory.

His choice had never changed. Not from the very beginning.

"Fine."

I swallowed the bitterness, clinging to my last shred of dignity.

A flash of spite crossed Chloe's eyes. She snatched her high heel off the floor and hurled it at me.

"Vivian Lawson, drop the act! I don't need your fake kindness!"

"So what if I'm 'fragile'? Marcus still chose me over you!"

I stared coldly at my stepsister's unhinged display. Before I could speak—

Marcus had already pulled her into his arms, murmuring comfort.

That's right. Ever since Marcus met my so-called fragile stepsister,

our relationship had gained a permanent third wheel.

He stood me up on my birthday, on our anniversary—always the same excuse:

Chloe was sick, and he needed to take care of her.

Even his excuse for the last affair was laughably absurd:

If any man other than Marcus touched her, she'd die.

One excuse about poor health, and because I was the older sister, I had to hand over everything precious to her.

The same scenario. The same excuse.

It made me want to suffocate.

I let out a hollow laugh and kicked the broken shoe out of my path.

"Yeah. He likes you more."

I touched my brow and winced—tears slipping down before I could stop them.

I never imagined the girl who once called me "sister"

would keep tearing my life apart.

Even less did I expect the man I'd loved for years to turn his heart away.