Marrying My Sister’s Husband

I watched them walk back inside, their silhouettes warm and close. My chest ached.

The boy I raised, the one I poured every ounce of my heart into, couldn’t see a thing I’d done for him. Instead, he clung to a hostess Nick brought home just because she looked a little like Gianna.

It was too late to find a cab and the rain kept getting heavier. I curled up in the corner by the gate like some stray dog, trying to shield myself from the downpour.

Just when I thought I’d have to sit there all night, the door opened. The housekeeper stepped out with an umbrella.

“Madam, Mr. Fusco said you can come in.”

My mind was half-frozen, but I managed a nod and dragged myself inside.

The first thing I saw was Jayden curled up in Valentina’s lap, watching TV, while Nick peeled fruit beside them. They looked like the picture-perfect family.

I ignored them and headed upstairs—but Nick stopped me.

“You know Jayden’s stomach can only handle food you make. From now on, don’t stay out for more than an hour.”

I gave a cold, tired smile and said calmly, “Then you better hire a professional nutritionist soon. Or maybe have Miss Byrnes learn the recipes, I’ve got them written down. We’ll be divorced soon remember?”

A sharp clang rang out. Nick had slammed the fruit knife onto the plate, the sound grating.

“Aria! Have I been too soft with you? Is that why you think you can talk to me like this?” He pushed back his chair and marched over to me, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip.

“You throw the word ‘divorce’ around like it means nothing. You really think I won’t go through with it?”

Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he? He never loved me. Not really. The only reason he hadn’t divorced me already was because of Jayden. He wanted his son to believe he still had a perfect little family.

I stayed calm, looked him dead in the eye. “Then maybe you should just ask Jayden if he even wants me around. Ask him if he cares whether we stay together.”

Right on cue, Jayden’s voice cut through the room, dripping with disdain.

“Dad, I’ve been wanting you to divorce her for years. I hate her. I like Aunt Vee better.”

Valentina hurriedly covered his mouth.

“Jayden, honey, you can’t say things like that—it’ll hurt your mom.”

She said the right words, sure—but the sparkle of excitement in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

“She’s not my mom! I don’t want a murderer as my mother!” Jayden shouted, glaring at me with hatred.

I shrugged at Nick and said dryly, “There, you heard him. He doesn’t want me around. Can we finally get divorced now?”

Nick’s brows furrowed. He turned to Valentina.

“Valentina, take Jayden downstairs.”

Valentina hesitated, disappointment flashing in her eyes, but she nodded and led Jayden away.

I looked at her retreating figure and said again, “You and Jayden both like her. Why don’t you make her Mrs. Fusco instead? I’m done with the title.”

“You’re really that eager to throw me at another woman?” His voice was low, dangerous.

I stared at him, genuinely confused. What did he even mean by that?

He loved Gianna. Everyone knew it. Even after five years since her death, he never moved on. He’d never looked at me with affection. I was just a stand-in—someone he used when his body needed something, nothing more. And now, he’d finally found Valentina, someone who looked so much like Gianna it was eerie. Shouldn’t he be thrilled?

But instead of answering, his expression darkened. He turned abruptly and barked over his shoulder. “Valentina, come back.”

She peeked back in, surprised. Before she could ask anything, Nick grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall.

“You want to see us together, Aria?” he snapped. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

And with that, he yanked her into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Not long after, the sounds of moaning slipped through the walls.

I felt nothing.

I’d never come to this house for love. I came to repay a debt. That was it. I never let my heart get involved, never expected anything more than cold indifference. Nick had always loved Gianna and now he’d found someone who mirrored her so perfectly it was almost grotesque. Valentina was his second chance, a living, breathing shadow of the woman he’d never stopped grieving.

He should be happy.

I checked the time—my flight was leaving soon.

Quietly, I slid the divorce agreement under his door, picked up my suitcase and headed downstairs.

But just as I reached the front door, Jayden stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

With one sharp kick, he knocked over my suitcase. 

“What, a couple harsh words and now you’re storming out?” His voice was dripping with contempt. “You think this little act will get my dad’s attention? That he’ll come chasing after you like some movie scene? You’re pathetic.”

I didn’t say a word. I just bent down, calmly picked up my suitcase and started walking around him.

Then, out of nowhere, Jayden grabbed the fruit knife from the table.

And lunged.

He came at me fast—knife angled right toward my chest, his face twisted with anger.