Engaged To A Coldhearted Murderer

Eleanora Bryan POV:

The room spun. My cheek throbbed. I tried to push past her, to reach Gabe, to scream for another nurse, but my body felt heavy, rooted to the spot.

"He's my son, Brittnie. Please, he's just a child," I pleaded, extending a trembling hand towards her, trying to bridge the chasm of her sudden, irrational rage. "I can explain everything. I'm Eleanora Bryan, Cannon's mother. Gabe is his younger brother."

Brittnie laughed, a harsh, grating sound that clawed at my ears. Her hand lashed out again, a backhand this time, catching me across the mouth. My head reeled, stars exploded behind my eyes, and I stumbled backward, falling hard against the cold, sterile wall.

Pain shot through my hip. My lip split, and I tasted more blood. My vision was blurry, but I could still see Gabe, struggling, gasping for air on the gurney. He was fading.

"Don't you dare," Brittnie hissed, her voice low and menacing, "try to play the innocent victim with me. You think I don't know who you are? You think I don't know what you're doing here, bringing your... your love child into my hospital?"

Love child? My mind struggled to comprehend her words through the haze of pain and fear. Gabe?

I looked at Gabe, then back at Brittnie. Cannon's features, so strong in his older brother, were softened in Gabe. The same dark hair, the same deep-set eyes. He was undeniably a Bryan. Cannon's brother. My son.

"He's not-" I started, desperate to explain, to clarify this insane misunderstanding. But she cut me off.

"Don't lie to me!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing my eyes to meet hers. "That boy looks just like him! And you, you tramp, parading around with my engagement gift!"

She released my hair with a violent shove, sending me sprawling to the floor. My head hit the tiles with a sickening thud. The room swam again.

Brittnie stood over me, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a possessive fire I'd never witnessed before. She was no longer the composed head nurse. She was a madwoman.

She glanced at Gabe, a flicker of something cold and calculating in her eyes. "He doesn't look so good, does he?" she drawled, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Almost like he's... dying."

Then, with a dismissive flick of her hand, she turned to a group of nurses who had gathered, wide-eyed and terrified, at the periphery of the room. "Leave us," she commanded, her voice regaining its authoritative edge. "This woman is obstructing patient care. I'll handle it personally."

The nurses, clearly intimidated, exchanged nervous glances but quickly dispersed, their footsteps fading down the hall. I was alone with her. And Gabe.

A cold wave of despair washed over me. I had to get help. I had to save Gabe.

My hand fumbled for my phone, a desperate, shaky search. Cannon. I just needed to reach Cannon. He would fix this. He always did.

But my trembling fingers couldn't unlock the screen. My head throbbed, my vision blurred. I could feel Gabe's weak gasps for air, a terrifying rhythm that haunted every beat of my heart.

"He... he's getting worse," I choked out, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the blood from my lip. "Please... the epinephrine."

Brittnie watched Gabe, her expression unreadable. Then she smirked. "Oh, he is, isn't he? Peanut allergies are truly dreadful."

"You... you monster!" I whispered, my voice thick with despair. "He's just a child. What kind of person are you?"

"What kind of person am I?" Brittnie stepped closer, her shadow falling over me. "I'm the woman who's going to marry Cannon Bryan. And you, little lady, are the pathetic side piece trying to ruin it."

She bent down, her face inches from mine, her breath smelling faintly of coffee and mint. "And you know what happens to side pieces who try to steal what's mine?"

I tried to scramble away, to put distance between us, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Fear, cold and absolute, gripped me.

"Cannon doesn't even know this... this thing exists, does he?" Brittnie sneered, her eyes raking over Gabe's small, vulnerable body. "A little bastard, trying to worm his way into our perfect family."

No. She couldn't believe this. Cannon had posted pictures of Gabe on social media, proud of his little brother. But then, Cannon mostly used social media for medical conferences, or photos of him and Brittnie. He wasn' t the type to detail his entire family history in every post. A sharp, dreadful thought pierced through my panic: Brittnie must have seen the photo of the emerald brooch, and assumed it was for her. She saw the receipt. She knew the brooch.

I had to tell her. I had to make her understand. "Brittnie, no! This isn't what you think! That brooch... Cannon gave it to me for my birthday. It's a family heirloom. Gabe is his brother! My son with my late husband. Cannon' s half-brother."

Brittnie just stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief, then a flicker of something else-anger, then dawning comprehension. But it wasn't the kind of comprehension that brought reason. It was the kind that twisted facts into a new, more horrifying narrative.

"A family heirloom?" she scoffed, her gaze dropping to the brooch again, then back to my face. "Cannon told me he was getting it restored for me. For my engagement ring! He showed me photos of it, talking about our future." Her voice cracked with a twisted blend of hurt and rage. "You stole it. You stole my future!"

With a sudden, violent movement, she ripped the brooch from my coat. The fabric tore, a sharp sound in the sterile silence. She held it up, the emerald glinting under the harsh hospital lights, then clutched it tight in her fist, her knuckles white.

"You're a liar!" she screamed, her face contorted. "A desperate old woman trying to trap my Cannon. And this... this little prop of yours..." She gestured towards Gabe with her free hand, a look of pure loathing on her face. "He's just part of your pathetic scheme!"