Abandoned Heiress: Married to My Brother-in-Law
Adela stood outside the private room, holding the obsidian necklace she had spent three months hand-crafting for her boyfriend.
But through the cracked door, she heard Juston laughing with his friends, calling her a stupid, obedient pawn and her art "garbage."
After she shattered the necklace and walked out into the freezing rain, Juston texted her a far more horrifying truth.
Her own family didn't just hate her-they had actively tried to kill her.
Two years ago, her brother Kayden intentionally slipped deadly shellfish into her food at a gala, sending her into anaphylactic shock.
Worse, her parents had covered up the attempted murder as a simple kitchen mistake, all to protect the family name and elevate her adopted sister, Kara.
Adela collapsed on the wet pavement, suffocating under the weight of the ultimate betrayal.
She had spent her entire life begging for their love, secretly working as the anonymous designer keeping their failing company afloat, only to realize she was nothing but a disposable tool.
She had absolutely no one, and nowhere to go.
Just as the storm threatened to swallow her whole, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
Harmon Holland, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire she was originally arranged to marry, stepped out into the rain.
He didn't offer her pity. Instead, he handed her a legal document.
"Marry me, Adela. For one year."
She took the pen. This time, she wouldn't be an obedient pawn; she would be their executioner.
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Chapter 6
The words "Richmond villa" hit Adela like a physical strike.
Her body jerked under Harmon's heavy suit jacket. The phantom feeling of her throat swelling shut returned. She saw Kayden's mocking smile. She saw her father's dismissive wave.
That house wasn't a home. It was a slaughterhouse.
Adela slowly lifted her head. She turned to look at Harmon. Her eyes were red and swollen, but the tears had stopped. A terrifying, dead calm had settled over her features.
"Yes," Adela said. Her voice was hoarse, but it didn't shake. "Take me to the villa. I need to get my things."
Harmon didn't ask questions. He didn't offer fake sympathy. He simply held her gaze for a second, a flicker of approval flashing in his cold blue eyes.
He tapped the glass partition. Donovan adjusted the route immediately.
The drive to the Upper East Side was suffocatingly silent. Adela stared out the window at the blurred neon lights, her fingers gripping the edge of Harmon's jacket so tightly her knuckles ached.
When the Maybach pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Richmond estate, the house was blazing with lights.
Adela opened the car door before Donovan could get out. She slipped Harmon's jacket off her shoulders and placed it neatly on the leather seat.
"Thank you," she said softly, not looking back at him.
"Keep it," Harmon said from the shadows of the car. "It's cold. I'll wait here."
Adela paused. Why would he wait? She didn't have the energy to argue. She shut the door and walked up the long, wet driveway toward the massive oak front doors.
She pushed the doors open.
The grand foyer was dead quiet, but voices echoed from the main living room.
Adela walked in.
Her entire family was gathered in the living room. Her father, Warren, stood by the fireplace. Her mother, Beatrice, was pacing. Her eldest brother, Alexzander, sat on the sofa checking his phone. And Kara, her adopted sister, was sitting gracefully in an armchair, sipping tea.
The moment Adela stepped into the room, all eyes snapped to her.
Warren's face instantly twisted in fury. "You finally decided to show up!" he barked, pointing a thick finger at her.
Beatrice rushed forward, grabbing Adela's cold, wet arm. "Addie, you look like a mess. Go upstairs, fix your makeup. The PR team has a statement ready. You are going to call Juston right now and apologize. We will spin this as a lover's quarrel."
Adela stared at her mother's manicured hand on her arm. She felt physically sick.
She violently yanked her arm out of Beatrice's grip.
Alexzander sighed loudly, rubbing his temples. "Adela, stop being so dramatic. Your little stunt tonight jeopardized the real estate merger with the Bond family. You are being incredibly selfish."
"Selfish?" Adela whispered. The word tasted like bile.
Kara set her teacup down. She stood up, smoothing her perfect silk dress, and walked over with a sickeningly sweet look of concern on her face.
"Sister, please don't be mad at Mom and Dad," Kara said, reaching out to touch the center of her own chest as if she were the one in pain. "They just want what's best for you. Juston is a good match. You'll be taken care of."
Adela looked at Kara's perfect, innocent face. It was a mask. It was all a mask.
Warren slammed his hand against the mantle. "You will marry Juston Bond, Adela! We have already initiated contact with the Holland trust's legal advisors tonight. We will be formally petitioning them to allow Kara to fulfill the marriage clause instead of you."
Warren puffed out his chest, asserting his absolute authority. "So you will marry Juston, and you will clear the path for your sister. That is your final duty to this family!"
Beatrice nodded frantically. "Yes, Addie. Kara and Harmon are a much better fit. You... you just need to settle down."
Adela looked at the four of them.
They didn't care that Juston had humiliated her. They didn't care that she was soaked to the bone. They just wanted her out of the way so Kara could have the billionaire, and they could keep the Bond real estate deal.
A laugh bubbled up in Adela's throat.
It started small, but it quickly grew into a loud, sharp, humorless sound that echoed off the high ceilings.
Warren's face turned purple. "Are you insane? Stop laughing!"
Adela stopped. The smile vanished from her face instantly.
"Clear the path?" Adela asked, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. She took a step toward her father. "Before I clear anything, I have a few questions."
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8.5
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In her final moments, she realized those years were a sacrifice made to protect a bunch of leeches.
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9.8
When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future.
For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me.
But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed.
Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone.
I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back.
But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours.
When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along.
"What's in your pocket, Felicie?"
This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.
9.3
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8.7
I woke up in a luxury penthouse with a blinding headache and bruises on my thighs, staring at the man who was about to ruin my life. Cullen Hunter, the most dangerous billionaire in Los Angeles, was stepping out of the shower, ready to discard me with a signed check and a cold look of disdain.
Then the memories hit me like a physical blow. I realized I had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene of a script—this was the exact morning Avery Hall was supposed to be kicked out, humiliated, and started her downward spiral into a tragic death.
The nightmare escalated within minutes. My own brother, Ernest, called to tell me I was no longer a member of the family, freezing my trust fund and evicting me from my apartment. He believed the lies of our "perfect" adopted sister, Cheslie, who had leaked her own private photos and framed me for it just to gain sympathy. Even my fiancé, Preston, couldn't wait to dump me in public, calling me a "crazy bitch" before running straight into Cheslie’s waiting arms.
I was suddenly homeless, bankrupt, and the most hated woman in the city. My family wanted me to crawl back and apologize on my knees for a crime I didn't commit, while the man I had just spent the night with watched my destruction with boredom.
I didn't understand how they could all turn on me so fast, or how I was expected to survive in a world where the script was literally written for my failure.
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