I Married My Cousin's Rejected Fiancé

Morgan Myers had put in a long, draining day at the office and was just about to head out when she found herself face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see.

"Morgan, hop in—I'll give you a ride home."

"Morgan, your boyfriend's back to pick you up. Ugh, so jealous. He's so dependable! When's the wedding? You better invite me!"

"Don't worry, it's coming up soon."

Jones Williamson eased out of his car, moving in to take Morgan's hand. She sidestepped him immediately, clearly uncomfortable.

"Morgan, what's going on?" Jones asked, his confusion utterly fake.

"There is no 'us,' Jones. Stop showing up to give me rides—I can get home on my own just fine."

They'd worked together on a project once, and Jones had been hounding her ever since. She'd told him straight up they weren't a match, but he just bulldozed right over her words like she hadn't spoken.

Even though they weren't a thing, their coworkers totally bought into the lie. Thanks to Jones's little performances, half of them thought a wedding was right around the corner.

As people filed out of the building, they couldn't help but watch the drama unfold. Jones tried to brush it off, forcing a tight smile.

"We're just having a little disagreement. She's mad at me," he said, all casual.

"Alright, just sort it out at home," a colleague suggested.

Jones reached for her again, but Morgan dodged him easily.

"My husband will be picking me up," she announced.

Jones's face fell. "Morgan, that's not even funny."

She ignored him and dialed Magnus Moore.

Across town, Magnus was in the middle of an international conference call. His phone cut through the room with an abrupt ring, snagging everyone's attention. He almost dismissed it, but the caller ID flashed "Wife"—so he picked up immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you done with work? Can you come pick me up? I've kind of got a situation."

"A situation?" There was the briefest pause before Magnus replied, "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

He ended the call and addressed the board members. "We'll pick this up tomorrow. Meeting adjourned."

Grabbing his coat, he tossed it to his assistant. "Find me a security guard's uniform."

Back at Morgan's office, she held up her phone screen for Jones to see. "My husband will be here soon. Leave me alone—or I'm calling the cops."

"You treacherous, two-faced woman! How could you do this to me?" Jones shouted, his accusation so ridiculous Morgan actually laughed out loud.

"Do we even have any kind of relationship? Did I ever agree to be your girlfriend? My husband is on his way, so I suggest you get lost."

"Fine. I want to see this so-called husband of yours!" Jones snapped, refusing to back down.

Morgan paid him no attention and let him stew.

Within twenty minutes, Magnus pulled up in a security guard uniform from Moore Enterprises. The same uniform that looked so bland on the guards at the front desk looked sharp and perfectly fitted on Magnus; with his good looks and athletic build, he could pull off anything.

Morgan rushed over and wrapped her arms around him happily. "Darling, you finally made it. I missed you so much today."

Magnus tensed at her sudden, warm embrace, suddenly very aware of the softness pressed against him. His mind couldn't help flashing back to the heat they'd shared.

He was only human, after all.

He turned his head slightly, trying to focus elsewhere.

Jones sauntered over and inspected Magnus's name tag. "So you're her husband? Just a security guard for Moore Enterprises?" he sneered.

"So what? You got a problem with that?" Morgan shot back.

Jones clenched his fists, rage simmering. As a manager with a decent salary and a BMW, he wasn't exactly struggling. He couldn't afford a place in the city, but he owned a nice, roomy apartment back home.

He'd gone after Morgan because she was young, gorgeous, and would look great on his arm. And yet she'd chosen a security guard over him!

Jones felt completely humiliated.

"Morgan, you could have had me—a respectable man—and instead you go for some guy who watches doors," Jones fumed.

"I happen to like men who watch doors. What's it to you? I already told you I'm not interested. Quit bothering me and leading our coworkers on. I'm married, and my husband and I are solid. If you keep it up, I will call the police."

"Fine! You're gonna regret this," Jones stormed off, rage in every step.

Morgan exhaled in relief.

"Finally, it's over. Hopefully he'll leave me alone now. Thanks for coming to my rescue," she said, genuine gratitude in her voice.

"You're not worried I might have embarrassed you?" Magnus asked, his expression unreadable.

His job was something Celeste Williamson had always looked down on, something she found beneath her. But Morgan didn't seem fazed at all; to her, it was just a regular job with no shame attached.

"You earn an honest living with your own two hands. What's embarrassing about that? We both work for a living—there's no shame in it. I'm in design, basically I sew clothes for a living," Morgan said, completely unfazed.

"Let's go. I'm starving and need to get dinner started," she added, heading toward her scooter.

Magnus, thoughtful and intrigued, followed after her.

The next day at work, Morgan picked up on a weird vibe right away. Daleyza Watson pulled her into the break room.

"What's the real deal with you and Jones?"

"There is no deal."

"Don't give me that! Everyone's buzzing about it. Jones told everyone you're a flirt who leads guys on—says you were playing him while seeing someone else. He claims he caught you being two-faced."

Morgan's brows drew together at the blatant lies.

"Daleyza, there is absolutely nothing between us. He just won't take no for an answer."

She laid out the whole story from her side.

"Jones is shameless—a sore loser who can't handle being rejected. The company he works for sponsored a sports event, and we ordered all the gear through them. Jones was our point person, but now he's refusing to cooperate, and the boss is livid. You should probably expect to be called in any second."

Right on cue, someone called out, "Morgan, the boss wants you in his office."

Daleyza gave her a look full of sympathy.

Morgan braced herself and walked into the boss's office to face a barrage of accusations.

"The deal was locked in, and now it's fallen apart because of you! You need to track down Jones and fix this, or your whole team suffers the consequences!"

She walked out of that office under the weight of her teammates' bitter, resentful stares.

"Just our luck to be on her team. What a mess—totally shameless."

"Always dragging us down. Couldn't be worse if we tried."

Morgan heard every word but forced herself to ignore it. She needed to confront Jones; the terms they'd already negotiated gave them the best price. If Jones took his business elsewhere, it would drive up costs and hurt his own interests too.

She hoped he'd see reason when it came to his career.

When she dialed his number, he was surprisingly agreeable.

"Meet me at Soho Bar at eight tonight," he said, and hung up immediately.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Magnus stirred, pulling her small frame into his arms. He was slightly buzzed, his gaze unfocused, but there was a tender depth in his eyes.

Morgan couldn't resist his pull. She slipped a hand under his shirt, exploring with playful curiosity.

Magnus's eyes darkened, his voice turning rough.

“Not now.”

“I know now's not a good time—that's exactly why I'm doing it,” Morgan said with a cheeky grin, itching to see Magnus lose control.

Magnus looked helpless, letting her carry on with her little game.

His skin was burning up, whether from the alcohol or something else, he couldn't tell.

A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, his breathing ragged.

“I’m struggling…”

In his drunk state, Magnus's lips were dangerously tempting—slightly parted, filled with unspoken hunger.

"I can't stand it, Morgan."

Magnus guided her hand lower, and Morgan's cheeks flushed at the not-so-subtle hint.

She'd pushed him too far.

Magnus looked at her silently, his eyes begging, tugging at her sympathy. He seemed so vulnerable—breathless, chest rising and falling fast.

His big hands gripped her waist tightly, refusing to let go.

Morgan sighed inwardly, mentally kicking herself for being so bold.

She wasn't in any condition for full-on intimacy right now, but she could help elsewhere.

"Magnus, I'm struggling..." he repeated, and it was like his voice cast a spell, making Morgan's ears tingle.

Against her better judgment, she nodded.

Magnus didn't waste a second—he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

A few hours later, Magnus lay there, fully satisfied, holding her close.

Morgan's hands and mouth were sore; she was completely spent.

"I don't want to play anymore," she mumbled, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

Magnus let out a low chuckle and tweaked her nose. "You started it, remember? Acting all innocent now."

"You could've handled it yourself—why'd you have to drag me into it?" Morgan protested.

“It’s not the same,” Magnus replied with a playful smile.

Morgan decided not to push that topic any further, noticing his gaze was starting to shift in a way that spelled trouble.

She quickly changed the subject, remembering something important.

"Is helping Zechariah Kennedy actually going to work?"

Magnus's expression turned serious at the question.

“I don’t know.”

"You think Clementine Silva would really never go back to him, no matter what we do?"

Morgan had gotten good at reading Magnus.

Magnus had agreed to help Zechariah by faking his own disappearance and then rejecting Clementine firmly, making it crystal clear that even if Morgan were out of the picture, there was no future for the two of them.

But despite all that, Clementine wasn't the type to give up easily.

Zechariah was probably fighting a losing battle.

"If Clementine were still the person she used to be, I could understand why you both loved her—she was genuinely kind. But she's changed. Poor Zechariah, he's so devoted. The debt from saving his life, all those childhood memories—they're powerful enough to drive him to do things he never would otherwise."

“I won’t let anything harm you.”

Magnus looked at her with unwavering resolve, his voice gentle but weighted with conviction.

Morgan nodded, trusting him to keep them both safe.

That night, Magnus held her close as they slept peacefully.

The next morning, soft knocking woke Morgan.

"Sir, Miss Silva is here."

Morgan nudged Magnus. "You deal with it. I need more sleep."

Magnus hesitated, comfortable beneath the covers, but eventually dragged himself up, rubbing his aching temples.

Downstairs, Clementine was waiting.

"I made you breakfast. It'll help with the hangover."

"But you can't keep coming here."

"I need to take care of you now."

"Clementine Silva, let me be clear: even if Morgan weren't in the picture, you and I would never be together. I love one person in this life—accept it and move on."

"And me? Do I mean nothing?"

"When we were young, yeah, I liked you. But that's done."

"Then forget Morgan. Start fresh with me."

"Why did you choose Zechariah back then? You think I don't know? Look, I'd rather not spell it out, but you took the safe bet the moment you realized being with me might actually require sacrifices. You latched onto Zechariah real quick."

"You had feelings for both of us—so why keep Zechariah on the hook? Was he just your backup plan in case things with me didn't work out?"

Clementine went pale, completely exposed.

"I get wanting a comfortable life, but taking advantage of people who honestly care about you, especially Zechariah—that's not right. You're married now. Stop torturing him. You're only going to hurt the ones who genuinely love you."

"I don't need you to look after me anymore. Don't come back. I don't want to see you. Don't push away the last bit of good there is between us. Whatever happens next is on you."

Magnus's voice was ice-cold, not a shred of wiggle room left.

"Show her out."

Clementine instinctively reached for his sleeve, but Magnus pulled away without a backward glance.

She stood there, completely crushed.

"Miss Silva, please go. And don't return."

Clementine didn't want to, but what could she do? Under the watchful eye of the staff, she dragged herself away.

A staff member handed her the breakfast container. "Our master won't be needing this. Please leave, Miss Silva."

Standing outside the wrought iron gate, the cold wind biting at her skin, Clementine felt utterly defeated.

Suddenly, a warmth wrapped around her as Zechariah Kennedy draped his coat over her shoulders.

"Come home with me," Zechariah said, looking just as drained as she felt.

Watching Clementine chase after Magnus over and over again burned him up inside, like flames licking at his heart.

Why couldn't she choose him?

"I'm not going back. Magnus is still stuck on Morgan—he wants to find her. Once he hears the news that Morgan is dead, he'll finally let her go."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Then it's just a matter of time. In time, he'll forget Morgan…"

"And for you? Time's already passed. He missed his shot with you, and that's how Morgan came along. If Morgan dies, someone else will fill her spot—it won't be you. Don't you get it? He might glance back, but he'll never walk the same road again!"

Slap—a sharp crack echoed.

Zechariah's face snapped to the side from the blow, and whatever small hope he'd been clinging to flickered out completely.