I Married My Cousin's Rejected Fiancé

Night slipped away quick.

It wasn’t the pale morning light that stirred Morgan Myers awake—it was the insistent hammering on the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Each knock felt urgent. Accusatory.

“I know you’re in there! What’s the matter, too chicken to open up after sneaking around?” a voice shouted from outside.

Unmistakably Rhonda Williamson. Classic setup for a scandal-fueled showdown.

Morgan barely lifted her head from the pillow before the door flew open with a crack. Rhonda stormed in, dragging her daughter, Celeste Williamson. Their faces were twisted with fury.

“You little scheming slut! He’s supposed to be your future brother-in-law, and here you are, throwing yourself at him!” Rhonda’s slap came lightning fast.

Still dizzy with sleep, Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the blow. But it never landed. She opened her eyes to find Magnus Moore gripping Rhonda’s wrist tight.

“This is on me. She had nothing to do with it,” Magnus said, voice hard as steel.

“Fine! The deal was for you to marry my daughter. Morgan isn’t blood, but I’ve got legal guardianship over her. So the two of you will marry. Otherwise, the scandal follows you both!” Rhonda shot back, her tone a messy cocktail of rage and cold calculation.

“Celeste, do you actually want us to get married?” Magnus turned his stare on Celeste.

Tears pooled in Celeste’s eyes—pure performance, dripping with fake vulnerability. “You betrayed me first. Since you and Morgan already… did whatever, what choice do I have? I’ll… I’ll just let you two be together.”

“Fine. Then I’ll marry Morgan.” Magnus’s words carried the weight of a slammed door.

Driven by the unfolding circus, the pair soon found themselves at city hall, making it official.

“Now that you’re hitched, it wouldn’t be proper for Magnus to stay in the family home. He should move in with you—your apartment is closer to Moore Enterprises. Much more convenient for his commute as a security guard,” Rhonda proposed, desperate to scrub Magnus from their lives.

“Okay, we’ll pack and leave.” Morgan agreed. She couldn’t bear watching Rhonda and Celeste shove Magnus out the door. Otherwise, they might end up with nowhere to go.

As Morgan and Magnus gathered their things and left, Celeste watched them go, shooting her mother a worried look. “What if Grandpa finds out and makes trouble?”

“He’s overseas getting treatment. Won’t be back for three or four months. By then, you’ll have married Lucca Perez and locked into the filthy-rich Perez family. He won’t be able to do squat. You wanna let our golden future slip through our fingers?” Rhonda replied, oozing confidence.

“Then I’d better hurry up and marry Lucca!” Celeste decided, resolve hardening.

Morgan led Magnus to her rented apartment.

She’d originally leased a two-bedroom, planning to split it with a coworker who later shacked up with her boyfriend, leaving the second bedroom empty.

Morgan had meant to find a new roommate, but now that felt pointless.

“This is your room. Make yourself at home,” she said, showing him the space.

Magnus scanned the apartment. The building was old, but the place was clean and tidy. Potted plants lined the balcony, giving it a warm, cozy vibe.

Even with his slight neat-freak tendencies, Magnus found nothing to gripe about.

He wandered into the kitchen. The pots, pans, and utensils were spotless, looking barely used. The fridge held mostly fruit and a parade of ready-to-eat meals.

“You normally eat like this?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m a total disaster in the kitchen. It’s either these quick fixes or the company cafeteria for me,” Morgan admitted.

Magnus’s brow furrowed. He couldn't survive on that stuff. Did this mean he’d have to start cooking?

Back in his military days, he’d managed to fix his own meals—barely edible, sure, but clean, nutritious, and not drowning in oil or salt.

“Can you cook?” Morgan asked, voice laced with hope.

“A little.”

“There’s a market downstairs. Wanna give it a shot?” she suggested.

The idea of cooking their own meals to save cash appealed to her. Magnus’s father was still alive and needed meds, so pinching pennies was always smart.

With a snap decision, they headed to the market and soon returned loaded with groceries.

Magnus took over the kitchen.

Watching him bustle around with pots and pans felt surreal to Morgan. She was actually married.

Most guys avoided the kitchen like the plague. Magnus’s willingness to cook was a massive green flag in her book.

She pegged him as a solid match for a stable life—comforting in his quiet, no-nonsense way.

And, hello, the man was drop-dead gorgeous!

Soon, the meal was ready. Simple but satisfying. Just enough for the two of them.

Magnus tasted his own cooking. Not gourmet, but healthy—low on salt.

Morgan, on the other hand, was full of praise. “This is amazing! Way healthier than takeout. And there’s enough left for lunch tomorrow. You rock—guys who cook deserve serious props.”

As a self-confessed kitchen disaster, she wasn’t about to criticize. Having someone cook for her was happiness enough.

After dinner, Morgan offered to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, leaving it sparkling.

Clear division of labor. Smooth.

Afterward, they retreated to their separate rooms, quietly marking their first night as newlyweds.

The next morning, Magnus hopped on Morgan’s scooter for a ride to Moore Enterprises.

“Hop on. It’s just two blocks away. The subway would mean switching lines, and during rush hour, you might not even get a spot.”

“Make sure you wear the helmet, or the cops will ticket us!”

“Hold tight!”

The scooter zipped forward, and Magnus felt that familiar backward yank.

Morgan dropped him off in front of the building and then sped off.

Across the street, Dariel Freeman sat in his convertible, eyes blown wide with disbelief.

He rubbed his eyes—again and again.

Was he hallucinating? Had he seriously just witnessed the filthy-rich, all-powerful Magnus Moore rolling up on a scooter?

The second Magnus stepped into the executive office, Dariel rushed over.

“So, how’s the scooter stack up against your Bentley? Way more fun?” Dariel teased.

“Knock it off!” Magnus shot back, exasperated.

Pretending to be poor was freaking exhausting.

“Come on! What the hell is going on?” Dariel was practically drooling for the story.

Magnus filled him in.

Dariel slapped his knee, howling with laughter. “So Celeste dumped you for your nephew, thinking he’d inherit Moore Enterprises, and kicked the actual boss to the curb?”

“This is the funniest joke I’ve heard all year. She’d be kicking herself so hard if she knew the truth!”

“But what about Morgan? She didn’t judge you or bail. She’s a rare find.”

“In a family like hers, I doubt she’s any different from Celeste. Celeste looked down on me, and I bet Morgan does too. The only reason this marriage happened is that someone saved my grandfather’s life. If I turned my back on that, the family name would take a hit.”

“So, as soon as Morgan files for divorce, this mess is settled.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Dariel probed.

“Maybe not now, but eventually, she will. I’d bet my life on it. She can enjoy the good times but won’t stick around for the bad,” Magnus said, flat-out sure.

“Miss Myers… she’s tired. She went to rest,” Dakota Miller said, voice shaky with hesitation.

Magnus had just woken, still crazy weak. Dakota didn’t dare spill the whole truth, terrified it’d wreck Magnus, so he danced around it.

Hearing that, Magnus’s forehead creased. He imagined Morgan must’ve run herself ragged looking after him.

Her eyes were probably all puffy from crying!

His injuries must’ve scared her senseless.

If it weren’t for him, the clash with Celeste wouldn’t have blown up like this.

Determined, he tried to get up, which sent Dakota into a panic.

“Sir, you’ve got to stay in bed. Rest is critical for healing.”

“I need to see her.”

“Sir, she’ll come see you when she wakes.”

“Just a brief glimpse, and I’d feel better…” Magnus insisted, stubborn as a mule, as Dakota struggled to hold him back.

“What actually happened to Morgan? Did something happen to her? Spit it out!” Magnus’s voice cut sharp with urgency.

“Sir, truth is, while you were out cold, Miss Myers didn’t call, didn’t text, let alone visit. It’s like she vanished. She’s heartless. Doesn’t deserve your concern!” Dakota couldn’t hold back any longer.

Magnus’s frown deepened, his expression darkening like a thundercloud.

“She said nothing at all?”

“She said she’s not a doctor, so visiting’s pointless. Said it was enough that I was here. Can you believe that? You nearly got yourself killed for her!” Dakota kept going, then fell silent under Magnus’s icy, razor-sharp glare.

“I’m going to see her.”

“Miss Myers?”

“Back home.”

Magnus wasn’t buying a word of it until he heard it straight from Morgan’s mouth.

Dakota, scared of the fallout, swore he’d drag Morgan back by force if he had to.

Dakota set out searching, but came up empty.

Morgan had completely ghosted the estate.

Dakota’s gut screamed trouble. He dug deeper and discovered Morgan’s last known location was from a few days ago.

She’d flown all the way here—so why hadn’t she shown up at the hospital?

More digging revealed she’d actually come, only to be blocked by Willa Perez. Then Morgan disappeared without a trace.

Dakota’s heart shuddered. He’d been so damn blind, assuming Morgan was cold and indifferent.

The gut-punch realization that Morgan was in danger hit hard. With every passing day, whether she was dead or alive grew more uncertain.

Dakota knew he couldn't bury this, no matter how much heat he'd take from Magnus.

Magnus listened, his face draining of color, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. The thought that Morgan might’ve been in danger for days crushed his chest with a heavy, suffocating pain.

“Get Willa here. And trace Morgan’s phone! If she messaged you, there’s a way to pinpoint her!” Magnus commanded, voice urgent.

Dakota had already tried. The calls now went straight to voicemail—Morgan’s phone was off.

But tracing would take time, maybe an hour or more.

Just then, Willa arrived, having already heard from the hospital that Magnus was awake.

She’d dressed with extra care, strolling in all smug delight.

“Uncle Magnus! Finally! I’ve been worried sick about you,” Willa gushed.

Her thin frame was proof of sleepless nights spent on anxious vigils by his bedside. Her dedication couldn’t be questioned.

Willa had often camped out by his side, trading shifts with Dakota.

“Have you seen Morgan?” Magnus asked.

“Huh? Uncle, you just woke up and you’re asking about her? What about everything I’ve been through?”

“Answer.”

Magnus had zero patience for skirting the question.

“Yeah, I saw Morgan. I was so furious she got you hurt, I gave her a piece of my mind and slapped her. Why wouldn’t I? She put you in danger—everyone knows how critical you are to this family, but she doesn't give a damn! I had security toss her out. Did she tattle to you? Doesn’t matter—I don’t regret it one bit,” Willa declared, perfectly playing the righteous victim.

Magnus pulled up the security footage. It showed Morgan trying to push past Willa, only to be thrown out. After stepping into a blind spot, Morgan vanished from view.

“Do you know where she went after that?”

“How would I know? I rushed back to take care of you! I figured, if she really cared, she’d come back persistently, and maybe I’d give in. Guess she wasn’t as sincere as I thought!” Willa stomped her foot, oozing frustration.

With that performance, nobody could even link her to Morgan’s disappearance.

“Uncle, why obsess over Morgan? You’re awake now, and she hasn't even bothered to show. So where is she?” Willa glanced around, faking confusion.

“She’s missing.” Magnus’s voice was ice, his eyes drilling into Willa.

“Missing? How?” Willa feigned shock. “This isn’t Europe—there are dangers here, and in your condition, a missing person shouldn’t even be on your radar.”

“Uncle, I might not like her, but we can’t just let something happen to her. You need to have Dakota search seriously,” Willa urged, clutching Magnus’s arm, all fake urgency.

“Rest assured, anyone who harms Morgan will pay,” Magnus said, locking eyes with Willa.

Willa felt an icy shiver skitter down her spine, but she kept her composure.

She’d grown up in the Perez family—she knew exactly how to wear a mask.

These were skills Uncle Magnus himself had drilled into her.

She wasn’t like Clementine Silva, easily fooled by pretty faces. But family constraints…

Those damned constraints!

If not for them, Clementine and Morgan would be nobody, and she’d have claimed Magnus for herself.

If Uncle Magnus had no kids, no partner, then every scrap of his love would be hers alone.

“Uncle, you’ve just woken up. Don’t tire yourself out. Let Dakota handle it—I’ll take care of you. You have no clue how terrified I was when you collapsed. You raised me; if anything happened to you, I couldn’t go on…” Willa cooed, playing the devoted caregiver.

At that moment, Dakota’s phone buzzed. He answered, and when he hung up, he spun toward Magnus, eyes lit with excitement.

“Sir, we’ve tracked Miss Myers’s last phone signal!”

Willa’s heart lurched. Panic shot through her for a split second as she perked up, eavesdropping with laser focus.

“Sir, the last known location is…”