My Sister's Fiancé is Jealous that She Chooses Me First

Scarface looked curious, but Blade raised his iron rod again—and slammed it across my mouth.

The pain exploded so fast I couldn’t even scream.

I could only clutch my face, blood pooling under my tongue.

“He’s the pretty boy I told you about,” Blade sneered. “Probably overheard you guys when you walked in.”

Scarface shook his head slowly.

“Something’s not right. I think… he said his name is Luca. That’s the young master’s name. No way an outsider would know that.”

He stepped closer and grabbed my face, squinting at me.

“This face doesn’t look anything like the young master’s though…”

My heart sank.

Of course he didn’t recognize me. He’d never seen my face after the surgeries.

Then something clicked for him.

“Wait a minute… the young master was sent abroad for reconstructive surgery. Your face—did you have work done?”

I nodded desperately, my eyes brimming with hope.

‘Yes. Yes, I’m the one! I’m your young master!’

But Blade scoffed from the side.

“What, a pretty boy getting plastic surgery is news? That’s half their job description.”

Scarface raised a hand to shut him up.

“Faces can lie. IDs don’t. Search him.”

Two of the goons stepped forward, grabbing me as I struggled.

Blade smacked me across the face. “Quit moving. Tie him up.”

They pinned me down, tying me up tight, and started patting me down while I seethed with humiliation.

Scarface glanced over warily.

“You beat the crap out of him. What if he is the young master?”

Blade just chuckled and offered him a cigarette.

“So what? I’m about to marry Dixie. Even if I hit her little brother a few times by mistake, it just proves how much I care about her. She’ll forgive me.”

Scarface puffed and nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

They soon found my ID. Blade snatched it and burst out laughing.

“See? Told you he was faking.”

Scarface leaned in, reading aloud, “Eli Hale.” Then he flipped open my diploma. “Damn.”

“Definitely fake,” he confirmed. “The young master’s name is Luca, and he didn’t go to Argentina—he went to London.”

Just like that, I felt the ground vanish under me.

After the kidnapping years ago, my sister had removed me from the family registry. Changed my name. I took our mother’s surname.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Scarface.

All to keep me safe.

‘She hid everything so well. Now, it’s going to… it’s going to get me killed!’

I could feel my heart race faster as Scarface’s expression turned cold.

“This bastard dared pretend to be the young master! Beat the hell out of him!”

To his words, the other men threw me to the floor and started kicking and punching me.

My phone fell from my pocket and landed screen-up.

As the display lit up, Scarface caught a glimpse—and froze.

“Wait!”

He snatched it off the ground, his face pale.

The wallpaper was a photo of me and my sister, arms around each other and smiling.

His hands trembled as he held it up.

“This phone… Is it yours?”

I nodded frantically.

On the side, Blade sneered.

“Come on, Scarface. It’s just a photo. He probably Photoshopped it!”

I jerked my head, signaling Scarface to open the phone and see for himself.

He got the hint, held it up to my face to unlock it, and started scrolling.

Then he saw it.

My messages with my sister.

“He calls her ‘Big Sis’ in his contacts. It’s real,” Scarface gasped.

But Blade snatched the phone from him.

“Don’t fall for it! That’s exactly what gold-digging little leeches like him do—call rich women ‘Big sis’ so they can cozy up to them!”

He scrolled up once, twice—then stopped cold, his face twisting with rage.

“Oh, really? She gave you a whole villa? She calls you baby? Says she never wants to be apart from you again?”