Marrying My Sister’s Husband

“Aria, are you sure about divorcing Nick?” Mrs. Fusco asked me over the phone, her voice full of concern. “Jayden’s still so young. He needs you.”

I stood at the stove, one hand braced on the counter and replied calmly, “I married Nick because of the agreement. Jayden’s five now—he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

I owed Mrs. Fusco a huge debt. To repay her kindness, I agreed to a five-year marriage contract. Five years of playing house, acting like the perfect Ambrose wife, taking care of Nick and his son. But the contract ends tomorrow. I’m finally free.

Before she could respond, I felt a sharp sting on my forehead. Something hard hit me.

A rock clattered onto the tiled floor.

My hands flew up to cover the gash. Blood trickled down my face as I turned to see Jayden standing just outside the window.

His arms were crossed, eyes narrowed with disdain.

“Snitching to Grandma again? Looks like that little lesson I gave you wasn’t enough. I should be sending you to the ground, keep my mom a company!”

I stared at him, stunned, as everything from an hour ago came rushing back.

It was my twenty-fifth birthday. I’d never celebrated one before, so I treated myself to a small cake. But I accidentally wore my late sister’s dress and the sight of it sent Jayden into a rage.

He snatched the cake and scrawled “RIP” across it with black paint. Then, for the final touch, he stuck white chrysanthemums on top—flowers meant for the dead.

My birthday cake had turned into a funeral offering.

He laughed, delighted with his work. “You think you deserve a birthday? If it weren’t for you, my mom wouldn’t be dead. And would have a broken family. Remember this: from now on, today isn’t your birthday—it’s your death day.”

Then, with everyone watching, he slammed the cake into my face and ruined the only day I’d been looking forward to.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I just walked to the kitchen in silence.

He followed me in, angry that I hadn’t reacted.

Jayden wasn’t satisfied. “What, you upset now? You’re so petty!” he snapped. “I swear, when I grow up, the first thing I’m doing is kicking you out of this house!”

I looked at him—this child I’d poured five years of love and energy into—and felt my heart sink.

I was so tired.

“You won’t need to,” I told him quietly. “I’m leaving this house tomorrow.”

Then I walked out and went to the living room to clean up the wound on my forehead. I was bandaging my bleeding forehead when I heard the shattering of glass from upstairs.

A chill ran down my spine.

I ran up the stairs and found the only keepsake my mother had left me—a jade bracelet—smashed into glittering pieces. The shards sparkled under the light, stabbing into my heart.

I dropped to my knees and picked them up one by one, careful not to cut myself. I hadn’t cried when Nick’s parent gave me hell for years. I hadn’t cried when Nick treated me like a stand-in for my sister, using me for stress relief and never anything more. I didn’t even cry when Jayden pu...