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Married to My Wife's Aunt After She Tried to Kill Me Novel Cover

Married to My Wife's Aunt After She Tried to Kill Me

After a severe accident, ten years of my life are completely erased. My last memory is of my bitter feud with my sworn enemy, Hannah Swanson. Yet, my best friend insists that Hannah and I have spent the last six years as a happily married, elite couple. The illusion shatters when I return home to find her fiercely shielding another man in our living room. Accusing me of faking my injuries, her cold hostility confirms my deepest suspicion: we were never meant to be partners, but adversaries.
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Chapter 4

Satisfaction only settled in after I confirmed I still held significant assets. Dragging a plaster-heavy left leg and a right arm encased in a cast, I hobbled out the door, intent on inspecting my domain.

But peace was a luxury I apparently couldn't afford.

Hannah's call came through, her voice cutting like a serrated blade, skipping all pleasantries. "What did you do to Dominic? I'm warning you, Joel—if anything happens to him, I will destroy you."

I frowned, genuinely confused. "I'm at the company drinking coffee. You're the one who took him on a cruise. If your pet is missing, shouldn't you look in the mirror before interrogating me?"

Her tone dropped, gloomier than the ocean depths. "Don't play dumb. Even if Mr. Swanson isn't physically present, he has a hundred ways to orchestrate a murder, doesn't he?"

Before I could retort, the office door crashed open. Thugs stormed in, and before I could raise my good arm, a burlap sack was shoved over my head. Darkness swallowed me as they hauled me away.

When the hood was finally ripped off, salty sea breeze stung my face. I was on the cruise ship deck.

Dominic lay collapsed against Hannah, his skin marred with bruises, playing the fragile survivor to perfection.

"Hannah, I was terrified," he whimpered, burying his face in her neck. "They tied my hands and feet... attached weights... just threw me overboard. If you hadn't come back for me, I'd be dead."

I pieced it together quickly. He'd been "kidnapped" and thrown into the sea, only for Hannah to rescue him just in time. Naturally, I was the designated villain in this little play.

"I already explained why I couldn't be there for your birthday," Hannah said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage as she looked at me. "Why couldn't you just let him be? He's never been on a cruise before. He's been looking forward to this since we were children."

She glared at me, her gaze a turbulent mix of disappointment and fury.

I met her stare head-on. "It wasn't me. What evidence do you have?"

"If not you, who else?" She stepped closer, her presence suffocating. "We bought this ship together. Only you and I have the master keys. Are you suggesting Dominic opened the gates to his own murderers?"

I stared at her accusatory face. The logic was flawed, but her bias was absolute.

A cold, dark amusement bubbled up in my chest. If she wanted a monster, I'd give her one.

I laughed. "You're right. It was me."

The admission hung in the air, freezing both Hannah and Dominic in place.

"After all, I'm a jealous man," I drawled, leaning back against the railing despite my restraints. "It bothers me that he crawled into your bed. What if he gets ambitious and tries to replace me entirely? As long as I hold the title of your husband, he's fair game."

I let my gaze slide over Dominic's terrified face. My voice dropped, gentle yet laced with ice. "Consider this a warning. Next time, I won't rely on the ocean. I guarantee a single strike will be fatal."

Hannah's eyes widened. "You lunatic."

I sneered. "A cheap boy toy thinking he can ascend the throne just because he warmed your bed? I have plenty of methods left to dispose of trash. Just wait."

Hannah surged forward. Her hand cut through the air, connecting with my cheek in a vicious slap. The crack echoed across the deck. She grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her. My face burned, but I didn't flinch.

Yes, I thought. This is how it should be between enemies.

She shoved a document against my chest. "Sign it."

A divorce agreement.

My brow arched. The woman who had declared just this morning that there was "only widowhood, no divorce" had certainly changed her tune.

I didn't hesitate. I signed my name with a flourish.

Yet as the pen lifted, a phantom pain struck my chest—a bitter, suffocating ache rising from somewhere deep. Muscle memory of love I no longer recalled.

The emotion flickered and died, replaced by relief.

Clutching the signed agreement, I turned to leave. But Hannah's hand clamped around my wrist.

"You think it's that easy?"

"We're divorced," I said flatly. "What more do you want?"

"Didn't you say you had plenty of methods left?" Her lips curved, but her eyes remained dead. "How about you try one of mine first?"

She turned to her men. "Throw him into the sea."

My blood ran cold. "Are you insane? With these casts, I'll sink like a stone."

She didn't answer. She simply walked into the cabin, ignoring my existence.

A curse died in my throat. My limbs were encased in plaster—swimming was impossible.

The guards grabbed me, binding my hands and feet. As if the casts weren't enough, they tied a heavy stone to my ankle.

Dominic approached slowly. The helplessness was gone from his face, replaced by a triumphant smirk. He leaned in close, his voice a poisonous whisper.

"Brother Joel, you've occupied the spot by Hannah's side for far too long. It's my turn now." He chuckled. "I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to get rid of you. Never expected you to deliver yourself right to my doorstep."

Then he shoved me.

"Do I have a grudge against you?"

He didn't answer. A brutal shove was his only reply.

Water surged into my mouth and nose, flooding my lungs. Salt stung the open wound on my arm like liquid fire. I thrashed against the current, but the rock dragged me down, anchoring me to the abyss. Darkness swallowed the light. Oxygen thinned to nothing.

As my consciousness frayed, a graceful silhouette cut through the gloom. In the dim underwater haze, soft, cold lips pressed against mine, breathing life back into my dying chest.

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