The Bride He Never Chose: Married to my Dead Sister's Husband

Brianna’s POV

Chaos erupted outside. Cars zoomed out of the gate, maids scurried around with a sense of urgency and on everyone's face was a look of confusion.

Nikolas's grandfather stood at a corner, speaking with one of the guests. Judging from his expression and the clench around his walking stick, there was no point wondering what the subject of discussion was.

I drew away from the curtain. My legs wobbled, this close to sending me to the floor. I couldn't head out and apologise to everyone. I couldn't even think straight or cry.

Sliding to the floor with my arms around my knees, I stared into space. Silence settled within me, but only for a while.

What on earth had happened? What on earth had happened to the meal I'd painstakingly prepared?

I'd have written off the event as accidental, perhaps a mistake on my part, but I had tasted the food just before the guests showed up. None of this made any sense, except of course someone had purposely done this.

But who? Alice? The other maids? What would they gain though?

A possible explanation flashed in my mind. No way…

A harsh knock on the door sprang up before I could continue my line of thought. The door swung open before I could answer it.

I scrambled to my feet, brows jumping towards my hairline. “Father?”

He stood still. His eyes, grey and cold, burrowed into mine. What my gaze caught next pushed me to take some steps backwards.

His fists were clenched and bore thick, angry-looking veins.

Was he going to slap me? Or worse, hit me?

Forcing saliva past my tight throat, I looked away, anticipating the burn on my cheeks. With several seconds passing and no sensation whatsoever, I risked opening my eyes.

To my surprise, Father had moved past me. He had his hands clasped behind as he inspected my room.

“Mulberry silk.” He fiddled with a piece of the curtain. “Do you know how expensive this is?”

Next, he walked up to the vanity and traced every cosmetic product with the tip of his fingers. He picked up a lotion, stared at it for a while; then discarded it.

Father could be unpredictable at times. However, this was the strangest I'd seen of him.

“Nice bed, terrific closet.” He gestured around, now facing me. “Do you know the word for a place like this? Magical. Otherworldly, certainly the dream of every young woman. But here you are determined to ruin it all.”

“I…”

“Shut up. I'm not finished.”

I swallowed the hurt attempting to spill over. His mean nature wasn't new to me. What rather crushed me was the fact he was here to mount blame.

“A laxative. That's what you cooked?” He scoffed. “Laxative is even to sugarcoat it. You made a concoction, a horrific portion. Is that what you spent those years learning in Paris?”

I lowered my gaze to my toes, awaiting more backlash.

“I was right all along. You're a horrible person. You knew I was going to come here. That's why you decided to—”

“No, Father. That's—”

“Don't make me lose my temper!” The windows rattled from the loudness of his voice. I wouldn't be surprised if it’d caught everyone's attention, and all eyes now looked in the direction of my room. “Your foolish stunt just landed someone in the hospital. And not just anybody, a governor's wife. Do you know the damage you've caused?”

I couldn't meet his eyes. Not really because of fear but tears. Looking at him would create a dam.

As if reading my mind, he said, “Look. At. Me.” He'd drawn close..

Knowing better than disobey, I glanced his way. Those pesky tears I'd kept at bay streamed down my face.

He snorted and brandished his finger like he always did when furious. “Now, get this. You'd be crying blood if you sabotage this marriage. I've worked so hard to build my relationship with the Contis. I won't let you ruin it.”

He let those warning words sink in and took his leave. Just like that. Although I hadn't expected him to defend me, his scolding left a throbbing sore in my heart.

I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering when another knock disrupted my peace.

“Ma’am?” It was Alice. “Dinner is ready.”

Hell no. There was no way in the world I'd step out of here, let alone sit at the dining room with Nikolas's family.

“Ma’am?”

“It's okay, Alice. I'm not hungry.”

She knocked again, likely because she hadn't heard me.

Blowing out a loud breath, I went answering the door.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Sigñor wants everyone in the dining room,” she replied with pity shimmering in her eyes.

“Sigñor?”

She nodded. “Mr. Giovanni.”

I fought the urge to swallow. “Oh, okay. I'll be there shortly.”

By the time I was out of my room, goosebumps broke out on my skin. I had to grab a sweater, even though I was aware the cold came from anxiety.

I managed to climb down the stairs. Upon reaching the dining room, a powerful urge to make a U-turn fell on me.

Nikolas's grandfather sat at the end of the table. Mrs. Conti at his left and Nikolas at his right. The maids and guards formed a semi-circle. .

Mustering up courage, I went for a seat, the one directly opposite Nikolas's grandfather.

“There's a seat beside your husband,” the family patriarch said, spotting a soft smile.

Managing a smile, I moved towards Nikolas, doing everything in my power not to look at him. I didn't want to see the frown, the clear show of disappointment. I'd had enough for the day from my father.

Nikolas's grandfather cleared his throat. “I'm sure we all know why we're here. It's past my time for dinner, but I can't help but put that on the sideline to get to the root of what took place this evening.”

He glanced at each and every one of us. “This is the first of its kind to happen here. I don't want to believe there's a deranged individual here. No, this is all one big misunderstanding. The floor is open now for you to come forward and confirm this is nothing more than a misunderstanding.”

Silence stretched. Deafening and ominous till Mr. Giovanni’s gravelly voice tore through.

“Nessuno? Nobody?”

Nikolas's mother eyed the workers. Her pursed lips were all the signal I needed to speak.

“I have something to say.”

All eyes fell on me. The workers’ attentive ones, Mr. Giovanni's which were filled with concern, Mrs Conti’s that gleamed with hostility.

I raised my chin and hid my anxiety by clenching my fist. I could do this.

“The food was intentionally tampered with.” I steadied my gaze on Nikolas's mother. Pressure built with every second that passed. “I believe the person responsible is…”