I Have Three Brides, and One Will Kill Me

The night before my engagement, my billionaire grandfather asked me to pick from the three women raised to be mine.

Bernice Dombey was my childhood dream. Everyone assumed she’d be the perfect wife for me.

But I looked past her. Geraldine Godwin—my aunt—was outside the room, squatting on the floor and poking at a cat.

In my past life, I didn’t hesitate to marry Bernice.

By day, she played the perfect wife.

But by night, she cried herself to sleep.

I didn’t know why until one day, in her second trimester, I saw her blushing like a teenager secretly having an affair with Phineas Yates—our driver’s son.

The truth killed me: I was never Bernice’s choice.

Later, a fire broke out at home, burning her lover alive.

Like a madwoman, Bernice shouted and blamed me for her loss.

“Phineas is the only one I love! Even the baby in me... It’s his! I was his five years before I ever set foot into this damn family and met you! You took him from me, Cyril! So once I kill you, I’ll burn all your fortune—as payment!”

She drove a knife straight to my heart, and before I bled out, she cried, “I’m begging you! If there’s a next life, don’t force me to marry you again!”

I died… only to find myself back on the day I had to choose between the three women.

Grandpa’s eyes were expectant until I said, “Grandpa, I don’t want any of them.”

Under his stunned gaze, I gave a confident smile and a woman’s name. “Aunt Geraldine. She’ll be my bride.”

——

“What?!”

Grandpa choked, spit his tea halfway across the room.

“She raised you, boy! After your parents died, she pulled you out of that orphanage! Fed you! Educated you!

“You may not be blood relatives, but still… That, my boy, is completely out of line!”

I didn’t say anything, but my fists clenched.

In my past life, after I married Bernice, Geraldine left the city. She never married.

She only returned when she heard I’d died—only to hold my corpse, wailing like her heart had been torn out.

“Cyril… I loved you,” she said, “and not like an aunt. I loved you like a woman. If there’s a next life… give me the courage. Just a little. I swear—I’ll never let anyone hurt you again!”

Then in that cold, godforsaken morgue, she stabbed herself and died beside me.

Back in the present, I looked out the window at her.

The sun lit up her side profile—radiant and gentle. For a moment, the world faded around her.

My heart stirred, but I forced myself to stay composed.

“So what?” I said.

“Those girls—those engagement promises—that was orphanage nonsense.

“But Grandpa, what if those three don’t actually love me?

“What if they just want our family’s name and power?

“What if they want to secretly take over this family?

“Wouldn’t that be a disaster?”

Grandpa slammed the table so hard it rattled, and his beard puffed up like a cat about to pounce.

“They wouldn’t dare!”

‘Oh,’ I thought, ‘but Bernice did.’

I drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Please, Grandpa. Let me choose who I love.”

His expression shifted. He followed my gaze out the window… to Geraldine.

Then finally, Grandpa gave in. “Fine. After the ceremony, send the others away. They’re done here.”

Once our agreement was settled, I walked from the garden back into the living room.

Unexpectedly, my three so-called potential fiancées—who all secretly wanted me gone—were there, sitting in the hallway, glaring and waiting.

Bernice lifted her eyes from her phone—from a picture of Phineas—and sneered at me.

“Oh, come on, Cyril. I know you want to force me to marry you,” she said confidently. “You know what, I don’t mind... as long as you buy Phineas a riverside villa. Standalone.”