Chapter 2: Our Husbands are Murderers
1616 Words
The door opened.
I stopped breathing.
Mira stopped breathing.
And apparently, neither of us had learned anything from the book because we both stared.
The man standing in the doorway was exactly as the novel had described him.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Black hair.
Sharp jaw.
Cold gray eyes.
He wore a black coat that fit his body far too well for my peace of mind.
Cassian Blackthorne.
My husband.
The man who would one day put a blade through my heart.
Behind him stood another man.
He was almost as tall, but where Cassian looked like death itself, this one looked like trouble dressed in expensive clothing.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
A lazy smile.
Adrian Blackthorne.
Mira's husband.
She looked at him.
Then at me.
Then back at him.
I could practically hear her thoughts.
Oh, come on.
I had the exact same thought.
The book had not exaggerated their appearances.
Unfortunately.
Cassian's gaze moved around the room before settling on me.
His expression didn't change.
“Lady Aria.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
I swallowed.
“Lord Blackthorne.”
Mira whispered beside me.
“That's your husband.”
“I know.”
“You're supposed to say something romantic.”
“Such as?”
“I don't know. Hello, darling?”
“I'd rather not die today.”
Adrian's mouth twitched.
He had heard her.
Of course he had.
His eyes moved to Mira.
“My wife seems disappointed to see me.”
Mira smiled brightly.
“I've only just woken up.”
“From what?”
“A very long nap.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
Cassian looked at me.
“You don't remember?”
I froze.
Remember what?
The accident?
The original Aria?
The marriage?
The book?
I couldn't possibly tell him any of that.
“I…”
I glanced at Mira.
She immediately understood.
“She's confused,” Mira said smoothly. “The physician said her memory may be hazy.”
Cassian's eyes remained on me.
He didn't look convinced.
That was the first problem.
The second problem was that I suddenly remembered exactly what happened in the original story.
Aria and Cassian had never loved each other.
Their marriage had been political.
Cold.
Distant.
Cassian had trusted Seraphina more than his own wife.
And Seraphina had made sure of it.
She had been his childhood friend.
His confidante.
The person he had protected since they were children.
She knew every weakness he had.
Every insecurity.
Every soft spot.
And she used every single one.
In the original story, she slowly convinced Cassian that Aria was selfish.
Then dishonest.
Then unfaithful.
The accusations became worse.
The arguments became crueler.
And eventually, Cassian stopped asking whether Aria was telling the truth.
He simply believed Seraphina.
The ending had been brutal.
I shivered.
Cassian noticed.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
His eyes narrowed.
I cursed internally.
“Yes,” I corrected. “A little.”
He turned toward the fireplace.
“Light it.”
A servant immediately obeyed.
I stared at him.
That wasn't in the book.
Or perhaps I simply didn't remember.
Cassian returned his attention to me.
“You were injured.”
“I know.”
“You've been unconscious for hours.”
I blinked.
“Hours?”
“Three days.”
My mouth fell open.
“Three days?”
Mira sat up straighter.
“We've been unconscious for three days?”
Adrian nodded.
“You both suffered head injuries.”
I exchanged a look with Mira.
Three days.
We had been here for three days.
And apparently, we had no idea what had happened during them.
Mira suddenly grabbed my hand.
Her fingers were freezing.
She whispered,
“We need to talk.”
I nodded.
“Immediately.”
Cassian heard her.
“You may speak privately.”
His voice was surprisingly calm.
Then he looked at me.
“I'll return later.”
I watched him leave.
The door closed.
I waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then I turned to Mira.
“We're screwed.”
She nodded solemnly.
“Completely.”
---
We waited until the servants left.
Then Mira threw herself onto the bed beside me.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“We need rules.”
“Yes.”
“Rule number one.”
“Don't die.”
“Excellent.”
“Rule number two.”
“Don't piss off our husbands.”
“Excellent.”
“Rule number three.”
“Don't let Seraphina anywhere near them.”
Mira went quiet.
There it was.
The name that made everything worse.
Seraphina Laurent.
I remembered her perfectly.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Sweet.
Perfect.
At least, that was what everyone thought.
She was the woman who had eventually destroyed both marriages.
She had manipulated Adrian too.
Except Adrian's story had been even messier.
She'd convinced him that Mira didn't love him.
That Mira had married him for money.
That Mira wanted another man.
Adrian had believed her.
And when Mira confronted him, he'd chosen Seraphina.
Everything had fallen apart after that.
Mira had died first.
Then Aria.
Then the brothers had realized too late what Seraphina had done.
By then, the damage was irreversible.
I looked at Mira.
“She isn't the heroine.”
Mira frowned.
“I know.”
“She isn't a rival we need to compete with.”
“I know.”
“She is worse.”
Mira nodded slowly.
“She knows them.”
“Since childhood.”
“She knows exactly how to manipulate them.”
“Exactly.”
“And we're strangers.”
I looked toward the door.
“Wives they're barely attached to.”
Mira sighed.
“So what do we do?”
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then the answer became obvious.
“We change the story.”
Mira's eyes narrowed.
“How?”
I smiled.
It was probably the first genuinely confident smile I'd given since waking up.
“We make them fall in love with us.”
Mira stared.
“You're serious.”
“Very.”
“You've been awake for approximately twenty minutes.”
“Twenty-three.”
“And you're already planning to seduce your murderous husband?”
“He isn't murderous yet.”
“That's your argument?”
“Yes.”
Mira groaned.
“You're insane.”
“I prefer proactive.”
She thought about it.
Then slowly smiled.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I like it.”
We clasped hands.
Two best friends.
Two doomed wives.
Two husbands who were supposed to kill us.
And one woman who thought she controlled the entire story.
We had an advantage she didn't.
We knew exactly what was coming.
---
That evening, I learned something even more alarming.
The original story began much earlier than I'd remembered.
The book had skipped over certain details.
It had focused on the romance.
The scandal.
The betrayal.
The dramatic deaths.
It hadn't bothered explaining the small things.
Like the fact that Cassian apparently visited my room every evening.
Or that he asked the servants about my meals.
Or that he remembered which tea I preferred.
Or that he had ordered the physician to remain in the estate until I fully recovered.
I sat at the dinner table staring at him.
He was eating quietly.
Perfect posture.
No wasted movements.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
I immediately looked away.
A moment later—
“Why are you staring?”
I nearly choked on my water.
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
His fork stopped.
Mira kicked my ankle beneath the table.
Hard.
I ignored her.
Cassian's eyes remained fixed on me.
“Why?”
I smiled.
Because apparently, survival required insanity.
“Because you're my husband.”
Silence.
Adrian looked between us.
Then he laughed.
Cassian didn't.
But something shifted in his eyes.
Something almost imperceptible.
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
“No.”
I lifted my chin.
“I'm simply getting used to it.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then returned to my eyes.
My heart stumbled.
Oh.
That wasn't in the book.
Or perhaps it was.
Perhaps I'd simply never noticed.
Cassian leaned back.
“You have changed.”
I forced myself to smile.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He studied me.
“You're looking at me differently.”
I froze.
Mira's eyes widened.
Adrian's smile disappeared.
For the first time, Cassian looked genuinely curious.
I couldn't tell him the truth.
So I gave him another.
“Maybe I finally decided to look at my husband properly.”
His jaw tightened.
I couldn't tell whether he'd been offended.
Or intrigued.
Then, very slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted.
Barely.
Almost nothing.
But it was there.
And somehow, that tiny smile was more dangerous than his cold expression.
Because the man in the book had never smiled at Aria like that.
Not once.
Cassian rose from his chair.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
He walked away.
I watched him leave.
Mira leaned toward me.
“Aria.”
“Yes?”
“You're staring again.”
“I know.”
She grinned.
“You like him.”
I whispered,
“That's not the problem.”
“What is?”
I looked toward the doorway where Cassian had disappeared.
“The problem is…”
I touched my lips.
“…I think he might already like me.”
And somewhere down the corridor, behind a closed door, Cassian Blackthorne stood completely still.
Because he had realized the same thing.
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