Betrayed by My Fiancé and Best Friend My Brother Destroyed His Life for Revenge. This Time, I Refuse to Marry.
My brother is a psychopath.
He’s bipolar, and when he tried to stop me from marrying my fiancé, he broke his own leg.
Later, I was murdered–betrayed by my fiancé and my best friend, who had plotted
together to kill me.
On the day of my funeral, while I lay six feet under, they celebrated, laughing and planning how to spend my inheritance.
My brother, with his broken leg and all, chased them across the globe like a man
possessed.
Covered in blood, he dragged their severed heads back to my grave.
He cradled my corpse, his fingers brushing my hair, and whispered softly:
“Don’t worry, kiddo. Your big brother’s always here.“”
Now I’ve been given a second chance.
When my fiancé wrapped his arms around me and asked me to drug my brother’s water, I shoved that disgusting man away.
“What’s wrong with my brother?”
“He’s just a little too good at loving me.”
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“Lila, all you have to do is pour this into your brother’s drink.”
“He’d never suspect anything from you.”
“This stuff could knock out an elephant. Once he’s out cold, I’ll take you away tonight. Sound good?”
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His fingers lightly pinched my wrist as he spoke, but my mind wasn’t on him at all.
My gaze wandered past him to the shadows beneath the swaying branches of the
hawthorn tree outside.
There stood my brother.
Dressed in a white button–down shirt, a chef’s knife hanging loosely in one hand, he stood at the door, his expression dark and unreadable.
His eyes locked onto the
two of us.
