Claimed by my husband's brother

The drums did not stop. They echoed through the village like a warning. A chief had fallen. Inside the compound, silence was heavier than grief. Men stood with lowered heads. Women whispered behind trembling hands. And at the center of it all… she sat. Still. Unmoving. The widow. Her eyes were dry, but her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, as though holding herself together. Across from her stood the man who would change her life forever. The new chief. Tall. Cold. Untouchable. He did not look at her. Not once. “By tradition,” one of the elders spoke, voice steady but heavy, “the widow must not remain alone.” The room tightened. Everyone knew what was coming. She slowly lifted her gaze. And for the first time… their eyes met. His were dark. Hard. Unreadable. “From this day forward,” the elder continued, “she will become the wife of the chief.” A sharp inhale echoed through the room. But the loudest reaction came from the doorway. “No.” All heads turned. The first wife stood there—eyes blazing with fury. “You will not take another wife while I still live.”