After My Husband and Son Betrayed Me, I Married My Stepbrother

The sharp sting of an IV needle anchored me to reality.

I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights. The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor filled the sterile room, steady and indifferent to my waking nightmare.

A tall figure sat beside the bed. Tailored charcoal suit. Sharp jawline. Eyes as cold as a winter storm.

"Alexander." My voice cracked, dry as ash.

My stepbrother leaned forward. I hadn't seen him in five years, not since the day I walked out of our family estate.

I didn't care why he was here. Panic seized my chest. I threw my hand out, gripping his wrist.

"My baby," I choked out. "Alexander, where is my baby?"

He stared at my trembling fingers. His jaw tightened. He didn't pull away.

"Tell me!" I demanded, my voice rising to a frantic pitch.

"Gone, Catherine." His tone was flat, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. "The doctors couldn't save it."

The monitor beside me spiked into a high, rapid trill.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, they're wrong. Get another doctor. Please."

"If Martha hadn't forgotten her coat and come back to the house, you'd be in a morgue right now," Alexander stated, ignoring my pleas. "You nearly bled to death on your own living room floor."

I let go of his arm. My hands drifted down, pressing flat against the hospital gown over my lower abdomen.

Empty.

A hollow ache ripped through my chest. I doubled over, burying my face in my knees. The sob tore from my throat, raw and ugly. I clutched my stomach, rocking back and forth.

Alexander stood. His chair scraped violently against the linoleum tile.

"How long?" he demanded.

I shook my head, unable to form words through the tears.

"How long has that pathetic excuse for a man been treating you like garbage?" Alexander shouted. He paced to the foot of the bed, gripping the plastic railing until his knuckles turned white. "You let him walk all over you. You let him parade a mistress in your home. Why didn't you call us?"

"You don't understand," I wept, curling tighter into a ball.

"I understand perfectly," he fired back. "The man you built from nothing doesn't even know who you are. Does Ryan have any idea he married the only daughter of the Sinclair family? The sole heiress to an empire?"

"Keep your voice down," I panicked, glancing toward the closed door.

"Why?" Alexander challenged, crossing his arms. "Are you still protecting him? After he left you bleeding out?"

I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. "I made a promise to Richard."

"Our father told you not to marry that parasite," Alexander scoffed.

"And when I refused to listen, he gave me one condition," I argued, sitting up slightly. The pain in my core flared, a sharp reminder of my loss. "He made me swear never to reveal my identity to Ryan. I promised I would never use the Sinclair name or our family's wealth to help him."

"Yet you did," Alexander accused, his eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb, Catherine. I saw the financial reports. You secretly funneled the Peterson contract to his startup. You handled his PR crises from the shadows. You think he secured that downtown zoning permit on his own? I had my team call the mayor's office twice just to fix his amateur mistakes because you begged me to."

I looked away, staring at the blank white wall.

"You even sold your mother's ruby necklace," Alexander pressed, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "You sold family heirlooms to keep his sinking company afloat, all while letting him believe he was a self-made genius. You built his entire kingdom."

"He was my husband," I defended weakly. "I wanted our family to succeed. I thought if I just supported him, he would finally look at me the way he used to."

"And look where that got you." Alexander gestured to the blood-transfusion bag hanging beside my bed. "He replaced you the second he felt powerful enough."

The image of Ryan turning his back flashed in my mind. The cold lock of the front door clicking shut.

Then, the memory of tiny hands shoving my knees.

Noah.

"I have to go back," I said, throwing the thin cotton blanket off my legs.

Alexander stepped directly into my path. "Excuse me?"

"Noah is still with them," I insisted, planting my bare feet on the cold floor. My legs wobbled instantly. "He's just a little boy. Vanessa is manipulating him. I can't leave my son with that woman."

Alexander grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to sit back on the mattress.

"Your son?" Alexander laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "The same son who pushed you down?"

"He didn't know what he was doing!" I yelled, fighting against his grip. "He's only seven!"

"He knew exactly what he was doing," Alexander corrected, leaning in close. "Martha told me everything. Noah stood there and watched you bleed. He called you a liar."

"He's confused," I cried out, tears spilling over my lashes again. "I'm his mother. I raised him. I have to save him from her."

"Save him?" Alexander released my shoulders and took a step back, looking at me with pure disgust. "He doesn't want to be saved. He made his choice."

"He's a child!" I screamed, slamming my fist against the mattress. "He doesn't understand choices!"

"He understood enough to kick you while you were bleeding," Alexander snapped. "Right now, he's eating burgers with his father and the woman who replaced you."

I froze.

"They are celebrating, Catherine," Alexander continued, driving the knife deeper. "They are laughing in a restaurant. Buying toys. Toasting to their new life while you lay here grieving a dead child."

The fight drained out of me. I slumped against the pillows, the horrific truth settling over me like a suffocating blanket.

"Nobody cares if you live or die in that house," Alexander said, his tone turning ruthlessly calm. "Stop being so damn soft-hearted."

"He's my child," I whispered, staring at my empty hands.

"A child who chose a stranger over his bleeding mother," Alexander countered. "Those who don't care about you—whether it's the husband you bought success for, or the son who threw you away—have no right to keep hurting you."

The blood on the rug.

Ryan's disgusted sneer.

Noah's furious little face.

They had walked out. They left me to die.

"You're right," I murmured. The words tasted like ash, but a tiny spark of something cold ignited in my chest.

"What did you say?" Alexander asked, tilting his head.

I lifted my chin and met his storm-gray eyes. "I said you're right. I'm done protecting them."

Alexander's lips twitched into a terrifying, predatory smile. "Good. Because I didn't come here just to hold your hand."

He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope, tossing it onto my lap.

"What is this?" I asked, tracing the edge of the paper.

"Everything you need to end him," Alexander replied. "Bank statements. Photos. The real reason Vanessa targeted your family."

Before I could break the seal, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The hospital door swung open with a violent crash.

I flinched, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Two police officers stepped into the room.

"Catherine Sinclair?" the taller officer asked, resting his hand on his utility belt.

"Yes?" I answered, my voice shaking.

"You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Vanessa Palmer."