I Married His Brother For Revenge

The nurses went rigid. The doctor dropped his gaze to the floor. No one in that room wanted to be the one who challenged him.

One of the nurses finally turned toward me, her voice hesitant, almost remorseful. “Mrs. Ramirez… we need your permission to proceed.”

I looked straight at Vincent, tears slipping down my face one after another. “You’ve always said you wanted a child. And now that I’m carrying your twins, you’re willing to sacrifice them for Natalia and her fake illness?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “You were planning to get rid of them anyway.”

I shook my head slowly. “You just heard that I canceled the procedure.”

Vincent sighed like I was being unreasonable. “Althea, your pregnancy is unstable. The odds aren’t good. Natalia’s situation is safer. Her baby actually has a chance.”

My stomach sank. “So you’re choosing to kill mine for hers.”

He stepped closer, his tone softening as if that could justify it. “It’s not like that. Natalia’s condition is worsening. Yours…” He shrugged. “You might not even make it another month.”

I couldn’t find my voice. I could only stare at him and finally understand the truth—this wasn’t about saving a life. It was about choosing a woman. And he had never chosen me.

“You’ve already decided,” I whispered.

From the bed, Natalia let out a small, rehearsed cough. Vincent’s attention snapped to her immediately, as if I’d vanished from the room.

The nurse’s hand brushed my arm, gentle, sympathetic. “Mrs. Ramirez… please.”

Vincent never once looked back.

I swallowed, my throat burning. “Go ahead.”

The needle pierced my skin. I watched my blood flow into the tubing, my gaze fixed on the floor as I fought back sobs. My chest tightened, dizziness crashing over me in waves.

The nurse glanced at the monitor and gasped. “Her vitals are dropping!”

“Stop the transfusion,” the doctor ordered sharply.

Vincent shoved him aside. “Don’t you dare stop. Natalia needs it.”

“She’s stable,” the nurse argued.

“You’re blind if you think she’s fine,” Vincent barked.

Pain ripped through me. My vision swam, metallic taste filling my mouth. My body shook uncontrollably.

Somewhere through the haze, Percival crossed my mind—his voice, the way he’d said finally, as though he’d always known this moment would come. I’d asked him to wait. I’d never said yes.

The staff argued with Vincent, their voices overlapping. He never once looked at me. His eyes were only on Natalia.

With the last of my strength, I whispered, barely audible, “Please… save my babies.”

Then everything faded to black.

---

When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn’t.

My entire body screamed in pain, like I’d been thrown down stairs and crushed for good measure. There was an awful emptiness inside me, a hollow ache that felt like something essential had been ripped away.

“Oh, Mrs. Ramirez. You’re awake,” a female doctor said softly from beside my bed. “We were afraid we might lose you.”

My throat felt raw. My limbs were heavy, sore, bruised in places I didn’t even know could bruise. The harsh hospital lights burned my eyes as I blinked, confused for a brief second, hoping—desperately—that it had all been a nightmare.

Then it came rushing back.

Vincent. Natalia. The transfusion. The agony. The fear.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the doctor. Her expression was too careful. Too gentle. I already knew.

“My babies…” My voice broke. “Please… tell me they’re alive.”

She hesitated.

That pause shattered me more than any words could have.

Her eyes softened as she shook her head. “We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. The twins didn’t survive.”

The world stopped.

Then I broke apart.

I cried until my lungs burned, until my body shook violently, until pain ripped through my stitches and my vision blurred with tears. I mourned the two tiny lives I never got to hold, the soft kicks I’d never feel, the future Vincent had destroyed without hesitation.

If I had known it would end like this, maybe I wouldn’t have let myself love them. Maybe I would have ended it earlier—before hope took root.

When my sobs finally slowed, I wiped my face with trembling hands. My thoughts drifted back to Percival. To his offer. To his certainty.

“W-what day is it?” I asked weakly.

“It’s Thursday,” the doctor replied gently. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days.

Time was slipping away.

“Please… I need my phone.”

“It’s in the drawer beside you.”

I grabbed it, my fingers shaking as I typed out the message.

I accept your offer. Meet me at the airport.

The reply came almost instantly.

Finally. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind, little grapes.

I typed back without hesitation.

Never.