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My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother Novel Cover

My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother

To the world, I was Delia Fitzgerald, the spoiled, vacuous daughter of the South's wealthiest family. But behind the practiced pout and expensive stilettos, I was a sleeper agent, a shadow trained for war. The mask cracked the night my fiancé, Ansel Gibson, dumped me in the rain. He didn't just break the engagement; he recoiled in physical disgust, claiming that the very sight of me made him physically ill. When I returned home, I expected my father to be furious about the failed business merger. Instead, I found him paralyzed by a primal terror I had never seen. It wasn't about the money; it was about a "blood debt" and a mysterious parchment that held our family's lives in the balance. "You will go to the Gibsons and beg for forgiveness," my father rasped, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "If this contract is broken, there will be blood." My own brothers, men who usually ruled the city, could only watch in grim silence. I realized then that I wasn't a daughter to them-I was currency, a lamb being led to the slaughter to pay for a secret I didn't even know existed. I didn't understand why the Gibsons were so obsessed with me, or why Killian Gibson-the family's true monster-was suddenly tracking my every move with a predatory smile. He traced the callouses on my hands, marks from thousands of rounds of gunfire that no debutante should have, and whispered that he wanted me where he could see me. If they wanted a pawn, they picked the wrong girl. I decided to stop running and walked straight into the lion's den, accepting a job as Killian's "Chief Special Assistant." I was going to find that parchment and tear their world apart from the inside. The game had officially begun, and this time, the "Baby Girl" was the one holding the knife.
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Chapter 7

Every light in the club swiveled upward. They focused on the VIP balcony overlooking the dance floor.

The crowd froze.

Killian Gibson stood at the railing.

He held a glass of amber liquid. He wasn't looking at the crowd. He wasn't looking at Luke.

He was looking directly at her.

Two men in black suits materialized behind Luke. They didn't speak. One of them kicked the back of Luke's knee.

Luke hit the floor with a crack.

"Hey! What the-"

"Mr. Gibson requires quiet," the bodyguard said. His voice was flat.

Luke looked up at the balcony. His face went white. "Mr. Gibson... I... I was just..."

The bodyguard grabbed Luke by the collar and dragged him backward. Luke's heels scraped across the floor. He didn't dare scream.

Killian didn't even blink.

The club was dead silent. Five hundred people, and you could hear a pin drop.

Elsie gripped Delia's arm. Her nails dug into her skin. "Oh my god. Delia. Look."

Delia looked up.

Killian raised his glass. He tilted it toward her. A toast.

I see you.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. It wasn't fear. It was... recognition.

She grabbed her tequila glass. She held his gaze. She raised her glass and downed the rest of the shot.

A slow smile spread across Killian's face.

The music blasted back on. The spell broke. But the air around her felt charged.

A bartender appeared at their table. He set down a glass filled with a dark, smoking liquid.

"Compliments of the gentleman upstairs," the bartender said. "It's called 'Dangerous Love'."

Elsie squealed. "He is totally into you!"

Delia stared at the drink. It was a trap. A beautiful, intoxicating trap.

"We need to go," she said.

"What? No! Stay!"

"Now, Elsie."

She dragged Elsie toward the exit.

They reached the doors. But a large figure blocked the way.

Dirk. Killian's assistant.

"Miss Fitzgerald," Dirk said. He wasn't smiling. "Mr. Gibson insists. It's raining. He will drive you home."

Delia looked past him. The rain was pouring again.

"I have a friend," she said.

"A car has been arranged for Miss Kidd," Dirk said. "You come with us."

It wasn't a request.

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