My Aunt Refused the Billionaire, So They Made Me His Bride

For a moment, Aria felt like the bracelets were burning into her wrists. She wanted to break free, but Silas’s big hand locked around her wrist in an unyielding grip. His deep, menacing voice rolled over them again.

“So, Mother, who do you think should take them?”

“Well, I...”

Eloise looked ready to answer—then froze, her eyes wide with horror. She was Silas’s biological mother. So why was she staring at him like he was the Grim Reaper himself?

It wasn’t just her. Seth shot to his feet too, like he was trying to put distance between himself and the disaster about to hit.

Aria followed their gaze and saw Silas’s cold, obsidian eyes. The whites were slowly streaking red, swirling in a way that made her stomach drop. Panic shot through her chest. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d seen this before—in her professor’s notes. Some kind of poisoning.

For a second, she couldn’t remember the details. Dazed, she heard Eloise’s soothing voice cut through the tension. “Silas, you’re exhausted. Why not go rest in your room?”

Silas seemed to realize something was wrong. He blinked hard, then released Aria’s hand and strode away with purpose. Jericho turned to Aria at once. “We’ll have dinner in the back garden later. Come with me to the garden, my dear.”

“Jericho, your health isn’t good. Let me help you up first,” Eloise said, already guiding him away and ordering the staff to clean up. The group hurried outside.

Aria watched them scramble, as if something monumental was about to happen.

Seth came over, his expression grim. “Miss Aria, you’d better hide in the garden. Silas... he’s not himself right now. Just go—quick!” He grabbed his jacket and rushed outside.

Aria followed, but as she reached the front door, a maid hurried up to her. “Miss Aria, Mr. Collins’s emergency medication was left in the second room on the left on the third floor. Could you fetch it for me? I’m swamped right now.”

The maid was gone before Aria could answer. Something about it felt off. Eloise might be meddling again. Aria took the stairs, the loose cuffs of her guest shirt brushing her hands. She found a sealed emergency case on a nightstand, labeled with Silas’s name. Whoever had sent her here had lied about what she was collecting.

Just as she was about to head back down, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, followed by a guttural roar of agony—like a wounded beast. Terrified, she clutched the medication and raced for the stairs, only to find a heavy iron gate blocking her escape. She was trapped in the corridor.

Behind her, the sounds of chaos kept growing.

Sweat trickled down her back as she carefully retreated toward the room. She’d barely moved when a deafening crash rang out—the heavy, dark wood door splintered under a powerful kick. In the shadow, a pair of blood-red eyes locked onto her.

Panic-stricken, Aria turned to flee. But the figure moved faster, clamping a hand around her throat with an iron grip.

“Cough...”

Aria nearly heard her bones crack. Her breath cut off. She flailed, struggling desperately, the pain medication slipping from her fingers. The crimson eyes drew closer until his breath brushed her face.

Finally, she recognized him: Silas Collins.

His sculpted features were sharp and defined, his dark eyes red as blood, prominent veins pulsing at his temples. Clarity struck her all at once—he was poisoned.

The pattern resembled Kranz neurotoxicity, an obscure plant-derived poisoning described in her mentor’s research. Severe episodes could cause delirium and dangerous agitation. It was an illness, not evidence that he was less than human.

Her breath grew scarce. She drove the heel of her hand against his grip and twisted sideways. His balance failed, and she stumbled free as he collapsed against the doorframe. Aria backed away, gasping. He had not been brought down by a miraculous pressure point; he was exhausted and dangerously ill.

Barefoot, Aria rushed to the iron gate at the stairs and pounded on it desperately. “Help! Is anyone there? Silas is sick—he needs help!” No one answered.

What could she do? Aria glanced back at Silas, sprawled just inside the door—the once-feared leader now looked like a trapped beast, tormented by toxins in the dim corridor.

Despite being the Collins heir—admired, feared—he looked pitiful to her now.

She remembered the emergency plan in her professor’s case notes. Then she opened the labeled case and found Silas’s prescribed rescue medication, instructions, and the number for his on-call physician.

A wall intercom beside the door connected her to the house manager. “Call his doctor. Now. And unlock this gate.”

Aria followed the physician’s instructions while keeping a safe distance whenever Silas became agitated. Staff finally reached the corridor with the medical team. Only when his breathing and pulse had steadied did the physician allow her to remain beside him.

The crisis eased gradually. It was not a cure. For now, it was enough that he could recognize the room again.

Aria breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile breaking across her face.

As she checked the blanket over him, his hand caught hers. She lost her balance and braced herself against the mattress beside his chest.

Silas’s eyes snapped open—no longer red, just icy calm.

“What did you give me?” he demanded.

The closeness was stifling. His heartbeat was loud and steady beneath her. Aria felt a wave of nerves, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to put some distance between them.

“Medicine...”

Silas shifted toward her, then stopped when she pulled back. His gaze remained sharp, but he let go of her hand.

Yesterday had been a blur. Today was different—now she was acutely aware of being in this man’s arms. Her face flushed crimson, hotter than before.

Silas leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. “Why are you getting close to me? What’s your real agenda?”