His Brother's Bride

I shoved Marco off me with all my strength and ran to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet.

Marco, still playing his part, sounded annoyed. "What's wrong? Still mad? Rose, I didn't realize you were such a brat."

I had no energy to respond, just knelt there, my stomach churning.

"You're no fun," I heard him mutter. Then, he was on the phone. "Bro, Rose just started throwing up. You think she could be pregnant?"

I collapsed onto the cold tile floor.

"Pregnant?" I heard Isabella's sickly-sweet voice on the other end. "Marco, don't you think this is a bit much? Rose will be so hurt if she finds out."

Dante's voice was gentle, and I could almost picture him holding her. "You don't need to worry about her. If she really is pregnant..."

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

"If she's pregnant," Dante's voice came back, cold as ice, "then clean it up. I don't need any loose ends. Neither do you, right, Marco?"

For some reason, Marco hesitated. "Yeah... of course. I don't want her kid."

The call ended.

I knelt on the bathroom floor, my hand on my flat stomach, tears streaming silently down my face.

Fine. This just made it easier to get rid of a child nobody wanted.

The next morning, I went to the hospital alone.

The procedure was quick. The doctor said I was lucky; it was early, so the physical damage was minimal. But I knew the real damage wasn't to my body. It was to the part of my heart that was now completely dead.

I only rested for half a day before Dante announced he was taking me to a dinner party—to make up for the last "unpleasant" gathering.

When I said I wasn't feeling well and wanted to rest, Dante just stared at me coldly. "Rose, don't be difficult."

So I nodded.

At 7 PM, I was in a private room at The Ritz-Carlton. The three of them were already there, laughing and talking.

"Rose! You're here!" Isabella stood to hug me. "You look so much better today."

"Thanks for your concern," I said, sitting next to Dante. He didn't even look at me.

The entire dinner felt like a well-rehearsed play. Isabella constantly showed off how well she knew the brothers—she knew what Dante liked to eat, the details of Marco's work, even stories from their childhood.

I was an outsider, sitting there silently, listening to her perfectly insert herself into their family.

"Oh, Rose," Isabella said, handing me a glass of juice. "I haven't congratulated you yet. You're about to marry Dante and become part of the Blackwood family. I truly hope you two will be happy together."

Her smile was flawless, but I saw the familiar flash of malice in her eyes.

I took the juice. The first sip told me something was wrong—it had mango in it. I'm allergic to mangoes.

Soon, red hives broke out all over my body, and it became hard to breathe.

Thankfully, I always carried an EpiPen. But just as I was about to use it, Isabella clutched her chest, her face turning pale.

"I... I don't feel so good..." She staggered to her feet, then collapsed onto the floor.