He Married Me Because My Adopted Sister Needed a Match

My mother stepped closer, her voice sharp. “Liza has stem cell treatment coming up. If she goes to jail, it will ruin everything. You’ll just say it was you. Joaquin will get you out anyway.”

My throat went dry.

“I’m not going,” I said. My voice cracked anyway. “Elizabeth is your daughter, but what about me? Am I nothing to you?”

“Smack.”

Her hand hit my face so hard my head snapped to the side.

“You will go,” she said coldly. “Whether you want to or not.”

My father didn’t even hesitate. He struck the back of my neck.

Pain exploded. My vision blurred instantly.

And the last thing I heard was them comforting her.

“Don’t be afraid, Liza. When the police come, just say your sister is unstable. Say she has violent tendencies.”

Then everything went black.

…

Cold. That was the first thing I felt when I woke up.

Damp air clung to my skin, and I was lying on a hard bed beneath a ceiling stained with dark patches I didn’t recognize at first.

“Awake?”

A police officer stood outside the bars, arms folded, voice flat.

“Your parents reported you,” he said. “You admitted to hitting a pedestrian with intent. Evidence matches. You’re under arrest.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My throat was too dry.

So they really did it.

For her… they actually did it.

…

Days blurred after that. I couldn’t even tell how many passed, only that time stopped meaning anything inside that place.

On the first night, another inmate shoved me hard into the wall and took my coat.

“New girl, huh?” she sneered. “You think you’re better than us?”

She grabbed my hair and slammed my head against concrete.

“Try crying again and I’ll make you wish you didn’t.”

I didn’t have the strength to fight back properly, only to breathe through the pain.

On the second night, they moved me into a mixed holding cell because of overcrowding.

A man laughed the moment he saw me.

“Fresh meat?” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

I backed away, nails digging into my palm until I felt blood. Someone grabbed me anyway. I fought back, scratched, anything I could manage.

They hit me until my body stopped responding the way I wanted it to.

A guard finally came in and pulled them off, shouting something I barely registered.

On the third night, I just curled up in a corner with a fever burning through my body.

Voices moved around me like I wasn’t even there.

“I heard her husband is some big CEO…”

“Then why is she here? That doesn’t make sense.”

I almost laughed.

Husband.

Where was he when I was here?

Where was anyone?

I pressed my forehead to my knees and stayed still.

…

On the fourth morning, the door finally opened.

“Laureen. You’re being released.”

The light outside hurt my eyes, so I squinted as I stepped out, unsteady.

And then I saw him.

Joaquin.

Standing there in a suit like nothing had ever touched him.

“Laureen.” He rushed forward and pulled me into his arms. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

His hands were warm, his scent clean, too clean compared to everything I had just come from.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, holding my face. “It’s all taken care of now.”

I didn’t move.

His hand dropped instinctively to my stomach, checking, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

How pathetic.

I almost died in there, and he’s checking that.

“With me here, this won’t happen again,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”

I stared at him. “Really?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

“If you had to choose between me and Elizabeth… who would you protect?”

Silence followed. Not even a flicker of doubt this time.

After a long moment, he said, “I would protect you. You and the baby are everything to me.”

I smiled faintly, but my eyes burned, so I turned away.

…

The first thing I did when I got home was shower.

Water hit my skin, and I just stood there under it, unmoving, like I was trying to wash off something that had already sunk too deep to leave.

When I finally stepped out, I stood in front of the mirror and slowly pulled out the fake pillow stuffed under my clothes. My hands trembled slightly as it fell to the floor.

My stomach was flat again. No baby. No future I could hold onto. Only silence and old scars.

“Ding.”

My phone lit up. A video from Elizabeth.

I didn’t want to open it, but I did anyway.

…

Elizabeth lay in bed, soft and perfectly composed, as if nothing had ever happened.

My parents were beside her, tending to her gently, my mother peeling fruit while my father adjusted her blanket, both acting like she was the only child that mattered.

“Dad, Mom, should we visit my sister?” Elizabeth asked sweetly, tilting her head. “I heard prison is really bad…”

My mother scoffed. “Why would we? She’s tough. A little hardship won’t break her.”

My father nodded. “She always exaggerates anyway.”

The video shifted.

Joaquin walked in holding a bowl of warm food, then sat beside Elizabeth’s bed and carefully blew on it.

“Eat while it’s hot,” he said gently.

Elizabeth smiled at him. “You came straight to me after hearing I wasn’t feeling well. It’s just a small fever… you should probably check on Laureen instead and help her get out.”

Joaquin didn’t even look up. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of it later. Right now, you are more important than her.”

After. Always after.

Elizabeth leaned closer to the camera, smiling like she had already won.

The phone slipped from my hand.

“Bang.”

It hit the floor hard.

And something inside me broke completely.

I sank down slowly, knees hitting the tiles, and then it all came out before I could stop it. Not quite crying. Something emptier, something raw and broken that didn’t feel like it belonged to a living person anymore.

I curled up there, shaking, tears mixing with the dampness still on my skin from the shower.

So this is it…

I almost died in prison, and none of them even looked back.

Not my parents. Not him. Not anyone.

…

Days after that, Joaquin noticed something was off.

Elizabeth finally moved out of the villa, but nothing really changed. He just stayed closer to me, like I was something fragile he needed to monitor.

Gentle. Careful. Always watching.

But I knew it wasn’t me he was watching.

It was the baby.

Then one evening, my parents called and invited us to dinner.