Engaged To A Coldhearted Murderer

My fiancée smiled as she showed me the "intruder" she had dealt with in the ER.

I looked past her to see my mother beaten unconscious on the floor.

And on the gurney next to her lay my seven-year-old brother, cold, blue, and dead.

Brittnie clung to my arm, beaming with pride.

"I handled it, Cannon," she chirped.

"That gold digger tried to claim this bastard was your son. But I made sure they wouldn't bother us again."

My blood turned to ice.

She was holding my mother' s emerald brooch, a family heirloom, convinced it was her engagement ring.

Because of her delusion, she had refused to give my brother his EpiPen.

She had watched him suffocate to death, thinking she was winning my heart.

I looked at Gabe' s lifeless body, then at the woman I was planning to marry.

I pulled out my phone and shoved a family photo in her face.

"That gold digger is my mother," I whispered, my voice trembling with lethal rage.

"And you just murdered my brother."

Chapter 1

Eleanora Bryan POV:

The world narrowed to a tunnel of fear. Gabe' s small body convulsed in my arms, his face swelling, lips turning blue. Every breath was a rasping battle he was losing, and I knew, with a mother's chilling certainty, that this was it. Anaphylaxis. Again.

"Gabe! Stay with me, baby, stay with me!" My voice was a frantic whisper against the roar of the engine as I sped towards the hospital.

My hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The emergency kit was empty. I' d given him the last EpiPen minutes ago, but it wasn't enough. His throat was closing.

I tried Cannon's number again. Straight to voicemail. "The neurosurgery wing doesn't allow phones," a cold voice reminded me. Of course. His life-saving work, always more important.

My jaw ached from clenching. I had to focus. Gabe. Just Gabe.

The emergency room entrance of Bryan Medical loomed, a beacon of stark white light against the oppressive night. This was Cannon's hospital, the one he practically lived in. It had to save my son.

I burst through the automatic doors, Gabe a dead weight in my arms, his once bright eyes now glazed and unfocused. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a desperate plea.

"Help! My son needs help! Anaphylactic shock!" I yelled, my voice raw.

A woman with impeccably styled blonde hair and a crisp white nursing uniform approached, a strained smile on her face. Her name tag read 'Brittnie Snow, Head Nurse'. She looked efficient, almost too polished for the chaos of an ER.

"Ma'am, please calm down. What happened?" Her voice was smooth, but her eyes held a strange, assessing quality.

"Peanuts," I gasped, holding Gabe tighter. "Severe peanut allergy. He can't breathe."

She nodded, her gaze briefly flicking to Gabe's struggling form. "Bring him this way. We'll get him stabilized." Her words offered a flicker of hope, a false promise.

I followed her, my legs feeling like lead. She gestured to a gurney. I gently laid Gabe down, his chest heaving, his struggle weakening.

"He needs epinephrine. Immediately," I pleaded, my voice cracking.

Brittnie hummed, her fingers tracing the air near a sterile tray. "Of course. Standard protocol."

My eyes blurred with tears, fear and exhaustion battling within me. I just wanted my son to be okay. I just needed him to breathe.

Brittnie' s movements were slow, almost deliberate. She picked up a syringe, but then paused. Her eyes, a startling shade of blue, fixated on something. Not Gabe. Not me.

They were on my coat.

Specifically, on the emerald brooch pinned to my lapel. My mother-in-law's brooch. Cannon's gift.

A cold dread began to creep through my veins. The air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing down on me.

"Is there a problem?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Brittnie didn't answer. Her gaze was locked on the brooch, a strange, possessive glint in her eyes. It was like she was seeing a ghost, or a thief.

Then, slowly, she put the syringe back down. The click echoed in the suddenly silent room.

"Who are you to Dr. Bryan?" she asked, her voice now devoid of any warmth. Her eyes narrowed, cutting through me.

"I'm Eleanora. His mother," I said, trying to stand taller, trying to project some authority. "And this is Gabe, his brother. My son. He's dying, Nurse. He needs that shot now!"

Brittnie's lips curled into a sneer. "His mother? Funny, Cannon never mentioned he had a 'mother' who looked like she just stepped out of a luxury car ad, flaunting his engagement gift."

Before I could even process her words, her hand shot out. It connected with my cheek with a sharp, stinging slap that snapped my head to the side. The force of it almost knocked me off my feet.

My vision swam. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. My cheek burned.

"What was that for?!" I yelled, clutching my face, my mind reeling.

Brittnie stepped closer, her face contorted in a mask of pure fury. "I'm Brittnie Snow, Head Nurse of this VIP wing. And soon," she paused, a venomous smile spreading across her lips, "I'll be Mrs. Cannon Bryan."

Her eyes, cold and hard, swept over Gabe's gasping form. "You won't be needing that brooch anymore, 'Eleanora'."