My Sister's Fiance Became My Husband But She Wants Him Back.

Emma POV

The silence that followed my words was thick enough to choke on. Sophie's face had gone from pale to bright red, her hands clenching the hospital sheets so hard her knuckles turned white.

"You think you can hold onto him?" Sophie's voice came out shrill, all pretense of sweetness completely gone now. "You're delusional! Dylan hates you. He can barely stand to look at you. The only reason you're still Mrs. Carter is because his grandfather forced him into it!"

"Maybe so," I said, meeting her furious gaze without flinching. "But I'm still his wife. And you're still the woman he had to give up. That must really eat at you, doesn't it?"

Mrs. Morgan lunged forward, but Mr. Bennett grabbed her arm, holding her back. His face was calculating now, the initial shock wearing off. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"You think you're so clever," he said slowly. "But who's going to believe you? It's your word against all three of ours. You have no proof of anything you heard here today."

He had a point, and we both knew it. My heart sank a little, but I kept my expression neutral.

"Besides," he continued, his confidence growing, "even if you did try to tell Dylan or his family, do you really think they'd take your side? The orphan girl nobody wanted? Against Sophie, who they've known for years? Against our family, who has connections throughout this entire city?"

The truth of his words stung, but I wasn't about to let him see that.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I don't have proof. And maybe nobody would believe me." I paused, letting the moment pass. "But I know the truth now. And that changes everything."

"It changes nothing!" Sophie practically screamed. "You're still the same pathetic, desperate girl you've always been. Clinging to a man who doesn't want you. Living in a house where you don't belong."

"At least I didn't have to drug someone and hire photographers to trap them into marriage," I shot back. "At least I didn't fake a suicide attempt for attention."

Sophie's face twisted with rage. She threw off her blankets and tried to get out of the bed, but her mother pushed her back down.

"Sophie, calm down. Don't let her get to you. She's not worth it."

"Not worth it?" Sophie laughed, but it sounded almost unhinged. "She's ruined everything! Everything I worked for! And now she stands there acting like she's better than me?"

"I never said I was better than you," I replied, and my voice came out tired suddenly. All the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright was starting to drain away. "I just said I wasn't going to make things easy for you anymore."

Mr. Bennett took a step toward me, and something in his expression made my skin crawl. It was too calm. Too controlled.

"You know, Emma, you're making a very big mistake right now. A mistake that could cost you more than you realize." His voice was soft, almost gentle, which somehow made it more threatening. "We've been very patient with you. Very tolerant. But that patience has limits."

"Is that a threat?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"It's a fact," he said simply. "You have no family besides us. No money of your own. No real education or skills. Everything you have, the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the roof over your head, it all comes from Dylan. And how long do you think that's going to last once Sophie asks him to divorce you?"

My hand tightened protectively over my stomach. The baby. I had to think about the baby.

"Dylan won't divorce me," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Won't he?" Sophie smiled now, and it was a cruel, satisfied smile. "Watch me. One phone call, Emma. That's all it'll take. One call to Dylan, crying about how you came here and attacked me while I was vulnerable. How you screamed at me and blamed me for trying to steal him away. How you made me so upset I tried to hurt myself again."

"He won't believe you," I said, but my voice wavered slightly.

"He will," Sophie said with absolute certainty. "Because he wants to believe me. He's looking for any excuse to get rid of you. And I'm going to give him one."

Mrs. Morgan pulled out her phone, holding it up so I could see. "Should I call him right now? Let him know what you've done?"

My mind was racing. I needed to get out of there. I needed time to think, to figure out what to do next. But my body felt heavy, exhausted. The baby. I had to protect the baby.

"Go ahead," I heard myself say. "Call him. Tell him whatever lies you want. But it won't change the fact that I'm his wife. Legally. Officially. And unless he divorces me, I'm not going anywhere."

I turned and walked toward the door, my legs somehow managing to carry me even though they felt like they might give out at any second.

"Emma!" Sophie's voice stopped me just as I reached the doorway. I looked back. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes glittering with malice. "You should know something. That night, the night you spent with Dylan, it wasn't an accident. I made sure you'd be at that party. I made sure you'd drink just enough to lower your guard. The only mistake was walking into the wrong room myself."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. She'd planned it. She'd deliberately put me in that situation, used me as a pawn in her scheme.

"Why?" The question came out barely above a whisper.

Sophie's smile widened. "Because I needed a backup plan, obviously. If something went wrong with my part of the setup, I needed someone to take the fall. Someone expendable. And who better than my pathetic little adoptive sister?"

The room spun. I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself.

"Oh, and Emma?" Sophie's voice followed me. "That bone marrow you gave me five years ago? I'm completely healthy now. Have been for almost three years. We just never told you because it was useful having you around, thinking we still needed you. Thinking you still had value to us."

I couldn't breathe. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too hot. I stumbled out of the room, barely making it a few steps before I had to lean against the wall.

Five years. Five years of believing I was part of their family. Five years of believing Sophie needed me, that I served a purpose. But I'd been useless to them for three years, and they'd just let me keep believing the lie.

I pressed both hands against my stomach, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. But I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not where they might see.

I needed to get home. Needed to lie down. My whole body ached from the beating earlier, and the stress was making everything worse. I forced myself to move, putting one foot in front of the other until I made it to the elevator.

The ride down felt like it took forever. When the doors finally opened to the ground floor, I stepped out and immediately collided with someone.