His Brother's Bride

Two days later, the basement door finally opened.

Dante stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light. I was huddled in the corner, my legs numb, my throat too hoarse to make a sound.

"Out," he said, his tone flat, like he was calling a pet.

I used the wall to pull myself up, my legs so weak I almost fell. Two days without food or water had left me completely drained.

"We're going to try on wedding dresses today," he said, handing me a bottle of water. "Get ready. We leave in an hour."

Trying on wedding dresses. As if nothing had happened.

I mechanically washed up and changed. The woman in the mirror was pale and hollow-eyed, a ghost.

An hour later, we were at the most exclusive bridal shop in the city. The staff greeted us warmly, and then I saw them—Isabella and Marco, already sitting on a sofa, sipping champagne.

"Rose! You're here!" Isabella chirped, jumping up with a brilliant smile. "I'm so excited! It's such an honor to be part of your wedding prep!"

Part of it?

"Isabella has a great eye for fashion. She wanted to help you choose," Dante explained. "And Marco's here to give the man's opinion."

A sales associate led me to the VIP section. The walls were lined with gowns, each one costing a fortune.

I pointed to a simple, elegant lace dress. "That one."

"Oh, that's gorgeous!" Isabella immediately walked over to it. "Let me try it on first, just so I can see how it looks and give you some advice."

Before I could answer, she had already signaled for the associate to take it down.

Twenty minutes later, Isabella emerged from the fitting room in the dress I had chosen. The white lace clung to her body perfectly. She looked like a fairy-tale princess.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling so the skirt flared out.

"Stunning," Dante said, his eyes shining with a light I hadn't seen in a long time.

My stomach turned.

The next two hours were a nightmare. Every dress I picked, Isabella had to "try it on for me to see the effect." She paraded in front of Dante in every single one of my choices, and he showered her with compliments.

Worse, Isabella started asking Dante to come into the fitting room to "help with the zipper." Through the crack in the door, I saw her press her half-naked back against him, his hand lingering on her skin for far too long.

I touched my chest. The spot that used to ache for Dante felt nothing now. Only disgust.

"Rose, aren't you going to try anything?" Isabella asked, emerging for the fifth time, now in a classic, regal gown.

"I..."

"Of course you are," Dante finally remembered I was there. "Go on. That one would suit you."

But it was another one of Isabella's hand-me-downs.

I went into the fitting room. An assistant helped me into the gown. In the mirror, my pale, exhausted face was a stark contrast to the magnificent dress.

When I pushed the door open, the showroom was empty.

"The gentleman and ladies went upstairs to look at jewelry," the associate explained awkwardly. "They told me to tell you to just pick whichever one you like. The bill has been settled."

I stood alone in the empty showroom, wearing a hundred-thousand-dollar wedding dress, feeling colder than I ever had in my life.

They'd left me. Like a tool that was no longer needed.

I went home alone. It wasn't until late that night that Dante returned, holding a fancy jewelry box.

"Sorry, I had an important call." He sat next to me and opened the box. "This is to make it up to you."

Inside was a diamond ring, at least three carats, sparkling brilliantly. But with my part-time experience at a jewelry store, I could tell at a glance it was a fake. A good one, maybe, but still just a fifty-dollar piece of cubic zirconia.

"Okay," I said calmly, holding out my hand for him to put it on me. "I do."

Three more days, I counted silently in my head. Then I can escape this man, this whole nightmare.

He froze for a second, clearly not used to me being so compliant. In the past, I would have pouted or acted upset when he neglected me for work. This time, I was abnormally obedient.

"You're really not mad?"

I put on a perfect, mask-like smile. "I'm about to become part of the Blackwood family. Of course, I have to understand."

Dante smiled, satisfied. He kissed the back of my hand. "I knew you'd understand. Isabella's a good girl, she just wanted to help. I'm sure you'll grow to like her."

"I understand," I nodded, my expression docile.

He talked more about the wedding plans, but I didn't hear a word. My heart was already dead, as lifeless as it had been during those two days in the basement.

At 11:30, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the bedroom door open. The footsteps were light, heavy with the smell of alcohol. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. The mattress dipped, and a warm body pressed against mine.

"Rose..." a deep voice whispered in my ear, his hand starting to unbutton my pajamas.

But it wasn't Dante's voice.

I snapped my eyes open. Moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the face of the man on top of me.

Marco.