Married To My Dead Husband Brother

Five

The veil felt like a noose.

I stood at the altar in a simple white gown that somehow still managed to cling to every curve, my hands trembling around a bouquet of deep red roses. Lucian was beside me, tall and imposing in his black tuxedo, looking every bit the mafia king the rumors painted him as. The priest’s words blurred together, something about love and honor and till death do us part. I almost laughed at that last part. Death had already tried to claim me once through Adrian. Now it wore a different face.

“I do,” Lucian said, his voice steady and low, sending a ripple through the small crowd gathered in the private chapel on his estate.

All eyes turned to me. My throat tightened. For a second, I considered running. But where would I go? The guards outside, the iron gates, the world that had already sold me twice, there was no escape. I swallowed hard.

“I do,” I whispered.

The ring slid onto my finger, heavy and cold. Lucian’s hand was warm as he held mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in what might have been reassurance or possession. I couldn’t tell. When he leaned in to kiss me, it was brief, firm, and left my lips tingling. The small gathering clapped politely. Business associates, a few of Lucian’s inner circle, and some distant relatives who’d shown up out of fear more than loyalty.

As we turned to face them, congratulations poured in like cheap wine. Men in expensive suits shook Lucian’s hand, clapping him on the back with wary respect. Women offered tight smiles and air kisses near my cheek. I just stared straight ahead, nodding vaguely when someone spoke to me directly. Words wouldn’t come. What was there to say? *Thank you for attending my second forced wedding in less than a month?*

Sophia and Margaret stood off to one side, near the tall stained glass windows. They weren’t clapping. Margaret’s face was a mask of pure venom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Sophia glared daggers at me, whispering something to her mother that made them both scowl deeper. They hated this. Hated that Lucian had taken me. Hated that I was now officially part of the family again, but under his name instead of Adrian’s.

I didn’t care. Their hatred felt distant compared to the storm raging inside my chest.

Lucian’s hand rested on the small of my back as he guided me out of the chapel and into the waiting car. No reception. No dancing. No fake smiles for photos. Just business, as always. The drive back to the mansion was quiet. He didn’t push me to talk, and I was grateful for it. My new husband.....God, that word still felt wrong, stared out the window, jaw set, fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee.

When we arrived, the guards nodded respectfully as we passed. Maids melted into the background. Lucian led me upstairs, not to the guest room I’d stayed in for the past week, but down a different hallway to the master suite at the end.

He pushed open the double doors and stepped aside for me to enter.

The room was enormous. Bigger than anything I’d seen in the Blackwood mansion. A massive king bed dominated one wall, draped in charcoal and black linens that looked sinfully soft. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the lit gardens and the high walls beyond. There was a sitting area with leather couches, a private bar, a walk in closet the size of my old bedroom, and doors leading to what I assumed was an equally luxurious bathroom. His scent lingered everywhere, rain, smoke, and that underlying edge of power.

Lucian closed the doors behind us with a soft click. “From now on, we share this room,” he said simply, loosening his tie. “My wife sleeps where I sleep.”

I nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. The reality of it all was crashing down. Married. Again. To a man who could ruin lives with a single phone call. A man I barely knew but already owed everything to.

He crossed the room and poured himself a drink from the bar, amber liquid swirling in the glass. “You’ll attend business galas with me from now on. Dinners. Meetings where your presence is required. Smile when needed. Stay quiet otherwise. Understand?”

“Yes,” I murmured, staring at the floor.

He took a sip, watching me over the rim of the glass. “Good. I have to go out for a bit. Some matters that need handling tonight. Don’t stay up waiting, I’ll be late.”

Before I could respond, he set the glass down, shrugged on a fresh jacket, and left. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the massive space that now felt like both sanctuary and prison.

I wandered around for a while, running my fingers over the smooth wood of the dresser, opening drawers that held his things, watches, cufflinks, a gun tucked neatly in one corner. Everything organized. Everything dangerous. Eventually, exhaustion won. I changed into a silk nightgown that had been laid out for me, crawled into the huge bed, and pulled the covers over myself. The sheets smelled like him. My eyes grew heavy, the events of the day blurring into one long nightmare.

Sleep came fast and deep.

---

A single gunshot ripped through the quiet.

I jolted awake, heart slamming against my ribs. The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight through the windows. Another sound followed, raised voices, sharp and angry, echoing from somewhere downstairs. I sat up slowly, clutching the blanket to my chest, straining to listen.

The arguments grew louder. Lucian’s voice, cold and commanding. Another man shouting back. Then a crash, like furniture being knocked over.

I slipped out of bed, bare feet silent on the cool floor, and crept toward the bedroom door. My pulse thundered in my ears. What the hell was happening? Had someone come for me? For him?

The voices rose again, muffled but furious.