I Married the Man who Killed my Fiancé

The fever gripped me like chains, burning from the inside out. My body trembled beneath the blankets, sweat soaking through the thin fabric, but the worst part wasn’t the heat—it was the dream that came with it.

Jackson.

He was smiling at me the way he used to, that mischievous grin lighting his whole face. We were on the mountain trails again, his hand tugging mine as we chased the sun. “Come on, Ysabel!” he laughed. “Don’t be scared. I’ll always catch you.”

I laughed in the dream, carefree, the way I hadn’t been in years. He kissed my forehead, his lips warm, his eyes full of promises that never broke. Marry me when we come back down, he had said once, teasing, but I knew he meant it.

And then the image twisted—Jackson slipping, falling, his hand out of reach, his voice lost in the wind.

I screamed in my dream, cried until my throat tore, calling his name over and over. “Jackson! Jackson!”

My own scream dragged me awake. I jolted upright, chest heaving, tears streaming.

But instead of Jackson, it was Joseph. Sitting in the chair beside my bed, arms crossed, his expression cold.

“So that’s it,” he mocked, his lips curling. “Still Jackson, even now. You scream his name like a widow mourning her lover. I’m right here, Ysabel, and yet it’s always him.”

My heart stopped. I wiped at my tears, shaking my head. “Joseph, I—”

He cut me off, his voice sharp. “This is exactly why I don’t want to marry you. Why should I tie myself to a woman still haunted by another man’s ghost?” He stood, towering over me. “Never mind. Forget about marriage. It’s pointless anyway.”

I flinched at his words, but he wasn’t finished.

“Hannah will stay here with us from now on,” he announced flatly. “She needs care. She’s pregnant.”

My blood froze. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes bored into mine, merciless. “So you should cook for her. She needs proper meals.”

A bitter laugh escaped me, though my lips trembled. “I’m not your maid, Joseph.”

His gaze hardened. “You are to me. Because you’re useless otherwise. If you don’t want to, then leave.”

I felt the tears burn but swallowed them back. “So that’s it? You’re dating her now, marrying her? And what am I, Joseph? What was I ever to you?”

His hand cracked across my cheek before I could take another breath. My head snapped to the side, my skin stinging with fire.

“You dare say that to me?” he roared. “When you’re the one who can’t even move on from Jackson? Don’t think I don’t know—you went to his grave, cried there after whispering to me that you loved me. Hypocrite!”

My heart shattered as he sneered. “You used me, Ysabel. All this time. So what if I use you too? That’s all this is—use. Nothing more.”

“I don’t want this—” I whispered, my voice weak, trembling.

“I’m not asking,” he snapped. “I’m ordering.”

The door opened then, and Hannah stepped in. Her face was pale, her voice soft. “Are you fighting because of me? I’m sorry, Joseph. I didn’t mean—”

He cut her off immediately, wrapping an arm around her. “No, Hannah. Don’t apologize. She’ll cook for you. It’s time she earns everything she’s taken from me.”

I couldn’t even argue anymore. My body shook, my cheek throbbed, my heart bled. So I lowered my head and went to the kitchen.

I forced my trembling hands to chop vegetables, my vision blurry from tears. The knife slipped once, almost cutting me, but I pressed on. Anything to get this over with.

Then Hannah appeared at the counter, hesitating. “Ysabel… let me help.”

I shook my head, my voice barely steady. “No. It’s fine. No need for that.”

She lingered, wringing her hands. I turned back to the board, but my fever-weakened grip faltered. The knife slipped again—and this time, it nicked Hannah’s skin as she reached for the plate.

She gasped, blood welling up on her finger.

Before I could explain, Joseph stormed in. His eyes blazed with fury. Without a word, his palm slammed against my face again, harder this time, knocking me back.

“You dare hurt her?” he shouted, shoving me into the counter. “Are you serious now?”

My chest ached, my voice cracking. “I didn’t mean—she reached—”

But Hannah, even in her pain, whispered, “I-It’s not her fault, Joseph. Please, don’t—”

Her words were drowned out by his rage. He hit me again. Once. Twice. Again and again until I lost count, until the sting turned into numbness, until I could barely stand.

“Apologize!” he barked.

“No,” I croaked, blood on my lips. “It wasn’t my fault—”

His eyes turned to ice. Then his hands shoved me with brutal force. My body flew backward, crashing into the sliding doors that opened to the pool.

The cold water swallowed me instantly. I gasped, thrashing, but my arms and legs were weak. Panic surged—I didn’t know how to swim. Not since the cruise. Water was terror. Water was death.

I clawed at the surface, begging, choking. “Joseph! Please! Help me!”

“Joseph!” Hannah cried, her voice sharp with panic. “She’s drowning—help her!”

But Joseph only stood there, his jaw clenched, his hand gripping Hannah’s arm as if to hold her back. His voice was flat, merciless. “No. Let her. She chose this. She deserves it.”

I coughed, swallowed water, my body convulsing. My vision blurred as I saw Hannah clutch Joseph’s sleeve, shaking her head. “No, Joseph, please—don’t let her die.” Her tone dripped with concern, her eyes glassy as though she might cry.

But when his gaze shifted away for a heartbeat, I caught it—the curl of her lips. The smirk. Cold. Satisfied. Triumphant.

She wanted this. She wanted me gone.

The last of my strength slipped away, and the water dragged me under.