Author's note: Here's my latest Brucas. Everything that has happened on the show has happened in this story, I haven't changed anything. A huge thanks to Jess for helping me get this chapter to where it is! Also, thanks to Cath and the other girls for helping me come up with the title. Cath, I couldn't go without putting Brooke in the DKNY dress! Also, thanks to Cari for being my beta. And Mary, for the most perfect banner ever! I love it. So here it is…Shattered Illusion…enjoy!

Chapter 1- Just Another Day

"Devon, I'm home," Brooke called out, her voice echoing throughout the mansion. She awaited a response, but none came. The only sound she could hear were the stiletto heels of her new red strappy Manolos, clicking against the marble of the vast entryway.

Brooke entered her Tuscan style kitchen hoping to find a note, but as usual, there wasn't one. Devon worked late most nights, or at least claimed to.

Some might think that Brooke Davis-Nilson was a typical trophy wife, and that as long as there was money to spend, nothing else mattered. That was far from the truth though. She knew what her husband was really up to all those nights he claimed to be working late. She knew that he was with his secretary on the leather couch in his office, or at some sleazy motel with a faceless waitress. Trash, that's all those girls were. They looked at Devon and all they could see were dollar signs.

Brooke met Devon in her senior year of college. They had both attended NYU; Brooke was there pursuing a career in fashion, and Devon was studying for a degree in business. In reality though, it hadn't mattered what Devon decided to study. His father owned one of the largest investment firms in North Carolina, and Devon was going to take that over some day, no matter what he decided to study in college. Lucky for Brooke, or at least she thought at the time, Devon put most of his energy into pursuing her.

There were sparks from the moment they met. It was at some bar, Brooke couldn't remember exactly what one, but she'd been on the dance floor and Devon had been trying to squeeze by while carrying a pitcher of beer. Someone had knocked into him and he spilled the pitcher all over Brooke's shoes. Granted, they were only some Steve Madden sandals, but they were her favorite pair of dancing shoes because they were the only ones that didn't hurt her feet.

"Hey, these are my favorite shoes," she'd called out at him, pointing down at her feet.

She had to resist the urge to smile as she looked him over. Tall, dark, and handsome, just what she liked. She guessed he was just about six feet tall, which was perfect because Brooke rarely left the house in anything but heels. His hair was dark and spiky, messy spiky, and that look just drove Brooke wild. He had hazel eyes, but all of that paled in comparison to how perfectly he was dressed.

Brooke liked a guy who could dress. Devon wore jeans, but clearly knew the importance of wearing jeans that actually fit, unlike most guys who just grabbed the first thing off the rack. He had on a pink striped button-down shirt, and over it, a black blazer which she guessed was Kenneth Cole. It was all perfect, right down to his black loafers.

Devon had sheepishly looked up at her, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as he attempted to pick up the mess. Brooke had stormed off, looking to find the ladies room to clean the beer off her feet, acting as though she wasn't going to give him a second thought. In reality, she hoped that when she came out of the bathroom he'd still be there. It was just her luck to find he'd gone, though. Brooke continued on with her night, pushing the memory of him far into the back of her mind.

The next day when Brooke went to leave her apartment for class, she was shocked at the sight of a shoe box outside her front door.

I hope these can replace the ones I ruined last night. If not, call me, I'll take you out to dinner and then shoe shopping. If they do replace them, call me anyway. Devon

Brooke remembered standing there, fingering the piece of paper that held his phone number. She wasn't sure how he'd gotten her address, but that didn't matter. She was impressed. Not only by the note, but by the Jimmy Choo's lying in the shoe box.

Two nights later, they'd had dinner. They hit it off right away. Devon made Brooke laugh, and after all the drama she'd had with her high school boyfriend Lucas Scott, that was what she wanted. Someone fun. Devon was fun, and rich, which made having a good time a lot easier. He'd take her to ridiculously expensive restaurants for dinner and then they'd spend the night out on the town, all courtesy of his father's credit card. Devon could always get into all the best clubs. Brooke couldn't have been happier.

Six months later, he'd proposed. Two months after that, they'd gotten married on a beach in North Carolina where, coincidentally, they'd both grown up, only a couple of hours away from each other. They were married at sunset with just their closest friends and family present. Brooke wore a simple, strapless Vera Wang gown. It was exactly as Brooke had always imagined her wedding would be.

After a whirlwind honeymoon in Europe, Devon brought Brooke to Durham, North Carolina, where he'd grown up, and showed her the house his parents were giving to them as a wedding present. 'House' didn't seem to be a fitting description, though. Houses didn't have more bedrooms than you could count on one hand, they didn't have tennis courts, swimming pools, and hot tubs. Mansion almost seemed to be a more fitting word. It had been perfect. All of it. Devon, the house, their future together, it was everything Brooke had ever wanted.

Devon had begun working for his father, and Brooke threw herself into decorating their new home. She wanted to do it all herself, so she put starting her career on hold. Her days were packed with fabric swatches and paint samples, but she never got overwhelmed. A big part of that was due to the help of her best friend, Peyton Sawyer.

Peyton and Brooke had been best friends for just about as long as they could remember. They had been separated by hundreds of miles throughout college, but their bond never weakened. It was just plain luck for Brooke that Peyton also lived in Durham. She'd studied art at North Carolina Central University and decided to stay in Durham after she graduated.

Peyton was also married. She'd married her high school sweetheart, Jake Jagielski, and she, Jake and his daughter Jenny were quite the happy family. They'd hit their fair share of bumps in the road, but they somehow managed to always come out on top.

Once the decorating was done, Brooke began looking for a job. She had little luck at first, but that was mostly because she didn't know where to look. For a blossoming fashion designer, North Carolina really wasn't the ideal location. So, Brooke sucked it up, reminded herself that marriage sometimes involved sacrifice, and she began working for a small boutique in downtown Durham.

After about two years she'd finally had the confidence to open up her own boutique. Thankfully, Devon had the funds to back her dream, and before she knew it she had her own little business. It was quite the hit with high school and college girls, and that was the way Brooke wanted it, as those were the tastes she could best cater to.

It didn't take long before the shop took off, and Brooke was flying high. There she was, 25, married to an incredibly handsome and wealthy man, running her own boutique. She had everything she'd ever dreamed of; love, success, money, and a future that seemed to be set in stone.

Then suddenly something changed. She and Devon began to see each other less and less. They both worked long hours, and were rarely home at the same time. Whenever they were, they were usually sleeping, or arguing. They argued about everything, but mostly about money.

Brooke had always thought that when you had a lot of money you didn't need to fight about it. She now knew that that was far from the truth. They had more money than they knew what to do with, yet they still argued about it tirelessly.

When they weren't fighting about money they were fighting about having children. Brooke had never thought herself to be the mother type, but now that she was married and her career was a success, she was ready for something new.

She'd broached the subject of having children to Devon many times. He always responded with a quick rejection of the idea. After a while, he began to get angry with Brooke whenever she brought up the subject. That was when the trust issues began.

Devon always seemed to be skeptical that Brooke was going to mess with her birth control, or stop taking it, in order to get pregnant "by mistake." It hurt Brooke that he thought she would be so deceptive with him. Finally, she got tired of arguing about it, so they stopped having sex altogether.

It was right about then that Devon started "working late" almost every night. It didn't take Brooke long to realize what was really going on. He wasn't getting what he needed from her, so he was getting it somewhere else. It sickened Brooke, but it just wasn't worth the fight anymore.

That's the day that it all started to get almost intolerable, the day that Brooke decided it wasn't worth the fight anymore. She'd almost resigned herself to being unhappy. She'd come home night after night to this huge empty house all alone. She'd pop a Lean Cuisine in the microwave and then lose herself in whatever television show was on that night. Brooke had actually come to welcome working late, it provided the necessary distraction.

Brooke had everything she'd ever thought she'd wanted and she was more miserable than she'd ever been. There were nights she longed for her the life she had in high school.

When Brooke had started college, she was relieved to finally escape the hold her childhood home of Tree Hill, North Carolina had on her. Everyone knew her in Tree Hill, or at least thought they did, and she couldn't wait to get as far away from there as possible. She wanted to start over. Become the person she always thought she'd wanted to be. Moving to New York City had afforded her that chance, and she'd relished it.

She didn't look back often. The people and things she had valued most from her childhood and high school days she kept close to her. She remained close with Peyton through the years, and also Haley, her other best friend and roommate for most of their senior year of high school.

Haley James-Scott and Brooke Davis certainly were a mismatched pair. Tutor Girl and Tigger. No one understood their friendship, but it worked and that was all that mattered. They'd met junior year when Lucas Scott had first entered Brooke's life. Haley and Lucas had been best friends for years. Haley was sweet and naïve, the exact opposite of Brooke. Less than a year later, they were roommates, bonded by their common feeling of abandonment, Brooke from her parents and Haley from her estranged husband, Nathan Scott, half-brother to Lucas.

Haley and Nathan met junior year of high school. It all started out as some big scheme by Nathan to annoy Lucas. Nathan figured if he could screw with Lucas' best friend, he could screw with Lucas. Little did Nathan know, Haley was it for him, his one and only. The relationship was rocky at first, but as soon as Nathan opened up to it and let it happen, it took them both by storm. By the middle of junior year they were married. Everyone was shocked at first, but quickly accepted it when they saw just how in love the pair were.

Then, one day, it all fell apart. Haley met Chris Keller, arrogant musician, he helped develop her singing, and then he helped her hop a tour bus to follow her dreams, breaking Nathan's heart in the process.

A few short months later, Haley appeared on Nathan's doorstep, tears flowing down her cheeks, pleading for him to take her back. It had taken a while, but they eventually became the couple they once had been, disgustingly in love. It was crazy to think how it had all started with trying to get on Lucas' nerves.

Lucas Scott. Brooke's first love and first heartbreak. Truth be told, what she had been running from in Tree Hill had been him.

They'd met junior year when Lucas joined the Tree Hill Ravens varsity basketball team. They were soon dating, and almost as soon, broke up. Then she learned the truth, Lucas had been hooking up with her best friend, Peyton. It took a long time for Brooke to bounce back from that, but she did. Peyton and Brooke rediscovered their friendship, and Brooke and Lucas realized their love for one another and spent one unbelievable year sharing that love.

Then his secret came out. He had HCM, Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, a genetic heart mutation. He'd hidden it from her for months. He had a life threatening illness and he had never told her. That was a violation of trust; one Brooke couldn't come back from. Shortly after his secret came out, she ended the relationship.

No one could ever say it was lack of love that had split them up. It killed Brooke to walk away from him, but she couldn't be in a relationship were they didn't fully trust one another. It pained her to see him in the months that followed and it was impossible to get over him when she saw him almost everyday. When she'd finally boarded that plane to go to New York City, she knew that it was just what she needed.

Each day she thought about him less and less, until one day she didn't think about him at all. Coincidentally, that day had been the same day she met Devon. Peyton always said it was because Devon distracted her. Brooke denied it until she was blue in the face. But now, sitting there all alone in her huge house, she knew Peyton was right. She knew it because every night, Lucas Scott somehow managed to creep back into her mind.

That was the worst part of the loneliness, the endless hours she had to herself to think. She thought about everything, her successes, her regrets, but mostly, how her life was nothing like she'd ever dreamed of.

After choking down her low calorie meal of chicken parmesan, at least that was what she box claimed it to be Brooke in fact thought it to be cardboard covered in tomato paste, she climbed down the stairs to the wine cellar. She selected a bottle of 1962 Pinot Grigio and headed up back up to the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass and headed up the stairs, the bottle of wine in tow. Brooke drew herself a nice hot bath, complete with lavender bath bubbles. After slipping out of her new red floral DKNY dress she climbed into the bath, exhaling with relief as the hot water enveloped her body. She soaked for a long time, as if she hoped to soak away her pain. Finally, after seeing how pruned her fingers had become; she pulled herself out of the bath. As she stepped out, she knocked over the wine bottle with her foot.

'Good thing it's almost gone,' she thought as she examined the floor to see if any had spilled. She scooped up the bottle and wine glass and brought them both into the bedroom with her.

She rifled through her dresser, finally selecting a pair of deep blue La Perla satin pajamas. After slipping into them she poured the last of the wine into the glass and climbed into bed. Slipping underneath the Egyptian cotton sheet, she reached for her book and began to read, but it wasn't long before the full effects of the wine hit her and she was dead to the world.

It was just another typical night for Brooke-Davis Nilson.