His Girl Bro Killed Our Wedding

But my fiancé had legally married someone else yesterday.

I don't know how long I cried. Then my phone started buzzing like crazy in my bag.

The screen lit up—the hospital.

I answered. A nurse's voice came fast and tight. "Is this Joey Jensen? Your grandmother just went into heart failure. She needs bypass surgery now. Please come sign the consent forms and make the payment right away."

***

Grandma was my only family.

My parents died young. She raised me collecting recyclables.

I ran to the street like I'd lost it, hands shaking so bad I could barely open a car door.

By the time I got to the hospital, they'd already rushed her into the ER.

A doctor came up, face tight, holding a critical notice. "She's in extremely critical condition. We need surgery now. With ICU after, it'll be about $300,000. Make the payment and we'll start immediately."

Three hundred thousand.

Everything I had—savings, years of wages—sat in a joint account under Peter's name.

Back then, I called it trust. Said it was for our wedding. I gave it all to him.

My fingers shook as I dialed Peter.

It rang forever before someone picked up. Gina.

"Hello? Joey? Peter can't talk right now. We're at the police station."

Her voice was casual. Almost smug.

I bit my lip, forced myself steady. "Put Peter on. My grandma's in the ER. I need the money from our joint account."

Gina laughed, soft and mocking. "Wow, that's a stretch. You were fine canceling the wedding earlier. Now your grandma's in the ER? Peter's busy helping me deal with a fight. Don't bother him with nonsense."

I cut her off. "Gina Draper. This is life or death. I'm not joking. Put him on."

Maybe it was something in my voice. A few seconds later, Peter came on, impatient.

"Joey, what are you trying to pull now? Gina got into it with some guys at a street stall and cracked someone's head. I'm negotiating with the family."

I leaned against the hospital wall, tears slipping down. "My grandma went into heart failure. She needs $300,000 for surgery. Please transfer the money."

Peter let out a cold laugh. "So now you're cursing your own grandma just to make me come back and apologize? I saw her yesterday. She was fine. How would she suddenly have heart failure?"

I was so desperate I was basically begging. "I'm not lying! The doctor's right here. If you don't believe me, talk to him!"

I shoved the phone at the doctor. He'd just opened his mouth—

The line went dead.

Peter hung up.

I called back. His phone was already off.

Despair hit like a tidal wave.

I stared at the red light over the ER doors, my whole body going numb.

Three years ago, when Grandma got sick, Peter sold his motorcycle without a second thought to cover her bills.

He'd said, "Joey, your family is my family. I'd give everything to save your grandma."

That one line kept me with him for five years.

Now he was cleaning up his girl bro's street fight—and hung up on the call that could've saved her.

The doctor sighed and shoved the payment notice into my hand. "You need to hurry. She doesn't have time."

***

I flipped through my contacts like I was scrambling blind, calling every classmate and coworker I could think of.

After begging everywhere, I barely scraped together $50,000.

Still nowhere near $300,000.

I clenched my teeth, flagged a cab, and went straight to the police station where Gina was.