Becoming His Brother's Fiancée

When I was pulled from the wreckage of the twisted luxury sports car, my fiancé, Blake Caldwell, looked devastated. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

So, on a whim, I decided to mess with him.

"I… I don't think I remember anything. Where is this?" I asked, looking at him with a deliberately blank expression.

He froze, then shoved his notoriously cold older brother, Julian Caldwell, in front of me.

"Julian," he said, the word 'fiancée' drawn out with a chilling slowness. "Take her to the private hospital. Now."

The smile on my face froze solid.

Julian swept me into his arms, his deep voice a low murmur against my ear.

"Sarah, I'm your fiancé. Have you forgotten?"

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1

After a battery of tests, the doctor delivered a diagnosis: my "amnesia" was a side effect of the concussion. It was so convincing, it sent a chill down my spine.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

A flash of joy crossed Blake's eyes—he didn't even try to hide it.

So, he wasn't worried about me at all.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, a cold dread spreading through my veins.

Meanwhile, Julian carefully draped a blanket over my shoulders, his movements deliberate and gentle.

"Wait here. I'll go handle the paperwork."

I stared at his sharp profile and nodded numbly.

After he left, I slipped out of the room and followed him.

Blake's gleeful voice drifted from the end of the hall. "Julian, you have to help me out. I can finally be free of Sarah. She's as dull as a statue. It drives me mad watching her fiddle with those cameras while I have to pretend I'm head-over-heels. You have no idea how much I've suffered."

Julian's voice was like a shard of ice. "She's your fiancée. If she remembers, this will be a massive problem."

A moment of silence. Then, Blake's voice, practically begging.

"You know I've always been into Chloe. But she's just the adopted daughter; the family is insisting I marry Sarah. Now that she's 'forgotten,' just give me and Chloe some time together. You're my brother. I trust you. Just… don't get too attached. I still have to marry Sarah in the end."

I choked back a gasp and stumbled back to the waiting room, my entire body shaking.

The man who'd followed me on my photographic journeys—from Scottish castles to the Moroccan desert—constantly whispering how much he loved me, had just pawned me off on his brother without a second thought.

I was done with his lies.

Since Chloe was the one he truly wanted…

Fine. Let them have their "happiness."

When Julian returned, he steadied me with a hand on my arm, as if I were made of glass.

In the car, he leaned over me, the scent of his cologne subtle and clean, as he carefully fastened my seatbelt.

We arrived at his penthouse duplex overlooking Central Park. Standing on the plush carpet of his bedroom, I felt completely out of place.

Black, white, and grey.

No photos, no trinkets. Even the pillows on the bed looked cold and severe.

The whole place felt like a pristine, luxurious model home that had never been lived in.

There wasn't a single feminine touch anywhere.

I clutched my clothes, still damp from the rain and flecked with glass, standing there in a daze.

Julian didn't even bat an eye.

"Go get changed. You can wear my pajamas."

He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead as if checking for a fever. He let out a soft sigh of relief. "Good, no fever. Get some rest. I'll make you some hot mulled wine."

I'd only ever known him to be untouchable.

Cold. Aloof.

No one dared get close.

I'd even heard a rumor that some socialite had tried to drug his drink, and he'd broken her arm for it.

And now?

But the way he looked at me now… his gaze was so gentle I felt I could drown in it.

This man, who was ice to every other woman, was ignoring his own brother's warning, holding me, kissing my forehead.

I watched Julian's broad back as he moved about the open-plan kitchen.

He must have sensed my gaze, because he glanced over his shoulder, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Just a little longer. It's almost ready."

I bit my lip, forcing myself out of the daze. "I don't want to be a bother."

His smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "You're not. I'm your fiancé. It's my pleasure to take care of you."

Julian was a man of discipline, of restraint. A man with zero tolerance for deceit.

And yet, here he was, being the first to lie.