My Dead Husband's Brother

My husband died. Then, glowing comments scrolled across my vision like a glitched livestream. [He faked his death to test her.] [The side piece gets desperate and cheats so fast.

He belongs to the main girl anyway!] [I need that scene where she begs in the pouring rain. She has zero clue the real main character sits inside, complaining about his kisses.

So satisfying!] My chest tightened. I swore to never betray him. I'd prove them wrong. The funeral happened. Rowan showed up. Silas’s little brother.

He tilted his black umbrella over my head, blocking the rain. He leaned close. His hot breath brushed my ear. “Silas is gone, Stella. But you still have me.” Wait. This is the test?

Chapter 1 The neon sign outside the psychic’s window flickered. The old woman slid a Tarot card across the velvet table. “Two husbands in your lifeline, honey.

The one standing in front of you? He isn’t your soulmate.” “Bullshit.” I slammed my hands on the table. A cold shadow swallowed me. Long fingers snatched the card from my hand.

I spun around. My gaze crashed into Silas. “Silas, don’t listen to her.” A dry chuckle left his chest. He didn’t care. Our marriage checked a box. He had endless options.

He only chose me because I held on the longest. The ultimate fallback plan. He couldn't bag the girl he actually wanted, so he settled for the girl obsessed with him.

I didn't expect him to collect on that debt the moment our bodies hit the mattress. No soft touches. No foreplay. Just raw, consuming domination.

He moved like a feral animal, punishing and arrogant. The friction of his skin against mine burned. I knew that look in his dark eyes perfectly.

He barely tolerated me, but he demanded my complete devotion. “Silas—” I gasped, my nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. “Only you.” I threw every promise at him.

A lifetime of obsession. “And if I die?” he murmured. He growled against my collarbone, his breath hot. I stopped breathing. “…Always.” He caught that onesecond hesitation.

One dark eyebrow ticked upward.

I tried to pull my leg back, but his heavy fingers clamped around my ankle. “Stella.” His voice dropped. “Even in a casket, you belong to me.” Midnight hit.

Silas tugged on his sweatpants, leaving the waistband dangerously low.

He leaned against the window frame, one long leg crossed over the other, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he pressed his phone to his ear. “The news of your death drops tomorrow.” The voice on the other end cracked through the silent room. “You disappear to the island for six months.

The second we root out the mole, you come back.” Silas dragged a lungful of smoke and let out a flat, indifferent hum. “You really keeping Stella in the dark?” Keeping me blind served the mission.

But it fed his twisted paranoia, too. His mother bolted when he turned seven. She packed up Rowan and vanished, leaving Silas behind like garbage.

That abandonment made him hate betrayal. He needed to break me.

He needed to drag me through hell to prove my loyalty before he ever actually trusted me. “Did your guys find anything?” Silas flicked ash onto the sill. “Tailed her for a solid two weeks,” the voice reported. “No other guys.

Work, home, sleep. Repeat.” “She’s completely clean.” A dry laugh filtered through the speaker. “Honestly, man, the whole world knows she worships the ground you walk on.

You really think she’s going to hop into another bed the second you drop dead?” “Let her.” He sneered dismissively. “Plenty of women begging to take her spot anyway.” Silas ended the call.

His fingers brushed against his pocket, catching the edge of the Tarot card he stole earlier. He pulled it out, crushing the thick paper in his fist.

He stared at the crumpled mess for a long time. Frustration radiated off him.

He shoved a hand through his dark hair, gripping the strands hard, then turned his head to watch my sleeping form on the bed. He chucked the crumpled card straight into the trash.

The next day marked our anniversary. I paced the hardwood floors for hours. Waiting. Instead of Silas, a knock delivered the news. Dead.

Muffled, distorted words tumbled from the officers at my door. Mission compromised. Fatal casualty. The syllables blurred into white noise. I stumbled back inside the empty house.

His black wool trench coat draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa, exactly where he dumped it last night. I reached out. My fingers brushed the rough fabric. I should wash this.

The thought hit a brick wall. He didn't need clothes anymore. Ice coated the back of my neck, spreading down to my numb fingertips. All the air sucked right out of the room.

My knees hit the floorboards with a sickening crack. I dragged the heavy coat against my chest, burying my face in the fabric.

I smelled cedar and smoke, and a sob tore from my throat. Chapter 2 Then the funeral happened.

Translucent, glowing text started scrolling across my field of vision like a glitched live stream. [Here we go!

He totally faked his death to test the side piece.] [She’s going to cheat out of pure desperation so fast.

He belongs to the main girl anyway!] [This dumbass side character is going to fall for the first guy she sees, thinking she hit the jackpot.

She’s going to regret it so hard when he comes back.] [The main girl is his literal dream woman. They’re stuck on that island together, catching feelings.

He acts tough, but he can't resist her.] [She spent years acting like a total doormat for him, and the main girl gets everything just by existing!] [I can't wait for the scene where she begs in the pouring rain, completely oblivious that the real female lead is inside, whining for him to stop kissing her.

So satisfying!] I stared at the floating words, angry and humiliated. So I was just the villainess. The pathetic placeholder.

No wonder I could never thaw Silas's frozen heart, no matter how hard I bled for him. But the cheating allegation? I dug my nails into my palms.

The comments claimed I was going to hook up with someone at his funeral. Absolutely insane. I possessed basic human decency. The dirt on his grave wasn't even settled yet!

I certainly wasn't about to jump into a random bed. And the most offensive part? I scanned the crowd of mourners in their cheap black suits.

Not a single guy here even came close to Silas’s tier.

I acted like a hopelessly obsessed simp for a reason—I had standards. [Just thinking about her waking up next to some ugly rebound every morning is hilarious.] [No wonder she’s going to be so bitter.

But whatever, the hot guy belongs to the main character.] [Wait, who is THAT?] [Holy shit, look at those legs!] My chin jerked up.

Through the sea of black umbrellas and the dreary, misting rain, a striking face cut through the gloom. He had a sharp jawline and piercing eyes.

He stepped away from the casket, tossing a single white rose onto the polished mahogany. The crowd parted.

He closed the distance between us, the rain drumming a steady beat against his black umbrella.

He stopped right in front of me, his towering frame blocking out the gray sky. “Stella,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver through me. “Silas is gone.

But you still have me.” Just a few feet behind him, his brother’s memorial portrait stared back at us. Rowan. My ultimate celebrity crush.

The platinumselling artist I’d worshipped for ten straight years. Back in high school, I used to hide under my covers, blasting his albums until I fell asleep.

I stayed so utterly obsessed that I felt too guilty to even use his face in my dirtiest fantasies. Now, his chest hovered barely a foot away from mine.

That’s Silas’s brother, the whispers from the relatives echoed in my head. The golden child their mother took when she walked out.

The brother Silas despised with every fiber of his being. That explained why I never met him. Not once in my entire marriage. I was Rowan’s sisterinlaw. I froze, unable to think.

For a second, fangirl panic took over my brain. I always knew my idol would date someone eventually, but the thought of some random girl locking him down made me violently jealous.

Wait. I’m the girl? Holy shit, I’m the sisterinlaw. No, no, no. Not that kind of sisterinlaw. Fuck. Panic seized my throat.

Staring up at his handsome face paralyzed my vocal cords. But I couldn't just stand there like an idiot. I had to respond.

I had to say— “Quack.” A literal, strangled duck noise scraped out of my constricted throat. Humiliation scorched my cheeks.

I prayed for the damp earth to open up and swallow me whole. Unfortunately, side characters never got the luxury of elegantly fainting away.

My physical health remained infuriatingly robust.

Ten minutes later, I locked myself in the darkest, emptiest stairwell of the funeral home to suffer a complete mental breakdown in peace. Chapter 3 “Anyone seen Stella?

Rowan’s looking for her.” Two of Silas’s relatives walked past the hallway, their hushed voices bleeding through the thin walls. “Did you hear Silas cut Stella completely out of the will?” “Yep.

A man puts his money where his heart is. She played the gold digger game and walked away with absolutely nothing.” “Don't be a bitch. She looks destroyed.

Her eyes are totally bloodshot.” Their footsteps faded down the corridor.

The glowing text continued to scroll, projecting a sunny island directly into my vision. [Ahhh, they finally met!] [Why is he staring at her like that?] [His dog is literally obsessed with her.

Dogs never lie!] I took a breath, grabbed the door handle, and yanked it open. I needed to get out of here. A hand clamped around my wrist.

The brutal grip jerked me backward, pulling me straight into the shadows of the stairwell.

The heavy door clicked shut, cutting off the light. “Found you.” The air in the narrow stairwell instantly thickened. “Are you avoiding me?” Rowan’s face stayed buried in the dark, but the deep rumble of his voice hit my chest. “Do you hate me?

Just like my brother did?” I stumbled back half a step, shaking my head. “I don't hate you.” My lungs refused to expand.

He possessed an even larger frame than Silas, his broad shoulders boxing me into the corner. Nowhere to run. “Then do you like me?” he asked. Footsteps echoed outside.

The door pushed open an inch, letting in a sliver of harsh light. I flinched, shrinking deeper into the corner. A low, breathless laugh slipped past his lips.

He stepped closer, planting his hand against the wall right beside my head, using his massive body to shield me from view. The footsteps faded.

The light caught his dark, focused eyes. “Do you remember me?” he murmured. “Freshman year. We had the same homeroom.” Rowan’s name haunted my entire adolescence.

He dropped out sophomore year, signed a label, and blew up. Multiplatinum records. Grammys.

By the time I scraped my way into a mediocre state college, my dorm mates were plastering his posters on our walls. Years passed.

The world moved on, but I kept his tracks on repeat. His stadium tours sold out in seconds. The one time I managed to score a pit ticket, my boss forced me to pull a double shift.

I sat in my cubicle that night, staring at my glowing monitor while my throat completely closed up. The crushing weight wasn't just about missing a show.

It was the brutal reality check. He existed in a completely different stratosphere. I was just a ghost in the crowd. “I remember.” I forced my chin up. “Crazy plot twist.

I never expected you to remember me, let alone end up as my brotherinlaw.” I clenched my jaw, fighting the tremor in my voice. “Who would have guessed our reunion would be at my husband's wake?” His jaw ticked.

The word husband hung heavy in the suffocating space between us.

His gaze dropped to my bloodshot eyes, a stark reminder of why we were both wearing black. “Right.” He stepped back, breaking the tension.

A brutal gust of wind rattled the metal door. The icy draft hit my bare forearms, raising goosebumps right over the exact spot where his fingers had gripped my skin.

The phantom heat of his touch still burned. “My brother was a piece of shit.” He stared at the concrete floor. “How could he treat you like that?” Rowan dominated the industry for years, yet his reputation remained completely bulletproof.

Zero scandals. No toxic red flags.

Even at high school reunions, people still talked about him like a total saint. “Some guys from a rival school cornered me once,” a girl told me years ago. “Rowan barely even knew my name, but he stepped in, fought them off, and called the cops.” He really was a good guy.

Chapter 4 Rowan had to be a saint.

That was the only explanation for why he stood there, offering me a lifeline. “What do you need, Stella?” His voice was a low, steady rumble. “As his family, I need to make this right.

I’ll compensate you.” God, I’m terrible. The realization hit me hard. I really was the toxic villainess.

Because while I stared at his handsome mouth, my mind raced: If we hook up, is that considered a scandal? Will I ruin his platinum career? Reign it in, Stella. Control yourself.

I dropped my gaze to my black heels. “I’m good.” His jaw tightened. “Are you sure?” “I don't need anything.

You don't owe me.” “Right.” A brutal gust of wind slammed the heavy metal door wide open. The shadows in the stairwell fractured. Voices echoed down the hall, calling my name.

I spun around, desperate to get away from him. “Stella.” His voice wrapped around my spine, locking my knees in place. “Can I ask for compensation, then?” I blinked, snapping my head back to look at him over my shoulder. “What?” “Marry me.” He stepped out of the shadows, his dark eyes without hesitation. “I’ll take care of you for him.” I reentered the reception hall first, my breath catching in my throat.

Rowan walked in five minutes later. The clinking of silverware masked the vicious whispers rippling through the room.

I caught snippets of conversation from Silas’s cousins at the next table over. “Think Silas regrets it?” “Regrets what?” “Wasting his short life marrying a desperate placeholder instead of the girl he actually loved.” A sharp elbow jabbed the speaker’s ribs, warning him to shut up.

But they still shot pitying, sideways glances at my pale face.

The translucent text flared back to life across my vision. [The side piece doesn't even know the main girl is giving him the cold shoulder on the island.

It’s driving him absolutely crazy!] [She’s totally scouting for an ugly rebound right now.

Wonder which loser she’ll pick.] [She’s going to literally die of jealousy when Silas comes back and flexes on her.] [Hey, that’s what she gets for cheating!] The comments kept rolling.

The relatives kept gossiping. I was supposed to be shattered. I was supposed to be a grieving widow.

But as I stared at Silas’s stern, blackandwhite memorial photo propped up on the altar, a single, deafening thought hijacked my brain. Marry my ultimate idol?

Was this the universe testing my loyalty? Damn. Damn. Damn. I slapped both hands over my face. My shoulders shook violently.

A muscle in my cheek spasmed as I desperately clamped my teeth together, fighting back a manic, euphoric grin. What else could I do?

I was just a morally corrupt side character completely devoid of selfcontrol. You’re dead, Silas. And I just hit the absolute jackpot.

The whispering relatives watched my violently trembling shoulders. Assuming I was sobbing hysterically, guilt finally shut them up.

In the far corner of the room, Silas’s friend—the guy from the midnight phone call—watched my breakdown.

He let out a heavy sigh, pulled out his phone, and shot a text to an encrypted number. Man, don't push this too far. She’s completely wrecked over you.

She cried so hard at the funeral today she lost her voice. A few agonizing seconds later, the typing bubble popped up. I know. I’ll buy her something nice when I get back.

Six months vanished. Silas packed his bags. The mole was dead. His cover was blown. The entire world knew he was breathing.

He sat in his hotel room all night, staring at his screen. It remained black. My name never popped up. “She’s probably just pissed, man.

You really put her through hell with that funeral,” his buddy warned, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed. “Just call her.” Silas didn't touch his phone.

He thrived on my submission. He always waited for me to break first. “I spoiled her too much. Let her throw a tantrum.” He expected me waiting at the arrivals gate. I always waited.

Rain or shine, 2 AM or 4 AM, I was always his desperate little shadow. He stood at baggage claim for thirty minutes. Hundreds of faces blurred past him. None of them were mine.

Chapter 5 Silas gripped the gift bag, a gnawing irritation in his gut. "Take me home." His driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Which home, sir?" "Wherever my wife is." The driver stiffened, his hands tightening on the leather wheel. "Stella moved out." "Where?" A dark crease formed between Silas’s brows.

The driver rattled off an address. Silence filled the car for five long minutes. Silas scoffed.

He leaned back against the leather seats, his eyes furious."Care to explain why you just gave me Rowan’s address?" The driver shrank into his seat. "You ordered us to evict her, boss.

She didn't have anywhere else to go." Silas’s jaw locked. Stripping her of the penthouse and emptying her bank accounts was a ruthless, calculated move.

He deliberately left her completely broke to ward off any vultures circling during his sixmonth 'death.' Without his money attached to her name, what guy would seriously try to bag a broke, grieving widow?

The glowing text flared back to life across my vision, the comments practically buzzing with chaotic energy. [Serves the gold digger right!

I was so sick of her spending his money!] [Hold on, forget the side piece for a second. What happened to the main plot?

Weren't they supposed to fall in love on the island?] [The main girl was literally fighting for her life trying to flirt, but she just ended up bonding with his dog instead.] [Wait, Silas kept staring at her because he thought she was trying to steal his dog?!] [But he totally missed the main girl when she gave him the cold shoulder, right?!] [No, the DOG missed her!

Because Silas's cooking is actual poison.

He never even questioned his own terrible culinary skills, he just doubled down on the dognapping theory!] [Silas spent the entire six months aggressively guarding his dog and crossing off calendar days until he could see his wife again.

And he comes home to find her shacked up with another dude. I’m screaming.] [There’s still hope!

Once he catches the side piece cheating, the main girl can swoop in!] The black SUV pulled into Rowan’s underground garage. Silas bypassed security and took the elevator up.

He found the front door cracked open and pushed his way inside. Slipping into another man's apartment felt dirty. It pissed him off. He was just here to collect his own damn wife.

But the instinct of a man hunting down a cheating spouse spiked his rage. The master bedroom sat empty. Typical. Rowan barely even used this condo.

But down the hall, the guest room door was wide open. My scuffed suitcase sat right on the floor. His dark gaze snapped to the nightstand.

A crisp, brandnew men's dress shirt lay perfectly folded.

Resting right on top was a halfwritten card: Happy Wedding, Ro— He instantly assumed it was the anniversary gift he missed the day he faked his death.

But the cut and the fabric practically screamed Rowan. It was way too young, too trendy for Silas's sharp, tailored aesthetic.

He usually trashed everything I bought him, relentlessly mocking my cheap, garbage taste.

Yet, when I pushed the guest room door open a minute later, Silas was wearing that exact piece of 'garbage.' He leaned casually against the window frame, his broad shoulders filling out the fabric. "Why weren't you at the airport?" he demanded.

He and Rowan shared the same sharp features, but their energy was different. Years ago, that dark, toxic magnetism hooked me the second we met. Now?

Staring at that flawless face did absolutely nothing for me. The spell was completely broken. He reached out. I flinched, violently twisting my body away from his touch.

Silas froze.

Whenever he used to come home from a long trip, I’d practically throw myself into his arms, utterly desperate for a crumb of affection while he stared down at me with pure disgust.

Now, I couldn't even stand his skin brushing mine. "Still throwing a tantrum?" A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I’m back, Stella.

Drop it." "Take the shirt off," I said, my voice dead flat. He lunged, his heavy fingers snapping around my wrist like a steel trap.

He yanked me flush against his chest, his tone dropping into a lethal, freezing octave. "I said, drop the fucking attitude." I ripped my arm back, staring dead into his eyes. "It’s not for you.

I bought it for someone else." Chapter 6 Silence filled the room.

He gave a dry laugh, but his dark eyes iced over. "Who is it for?" he demanded. "I’ve been dead for six months, and you’re already swiping your card for another guy?" "You died.

That made me single," I fired back, my voice dead flat. "I wanted to buy it the day they buried you." The corner of his mouth twitched in a vicious sneer. "The dirt wasn't even settled yet.

Unbelievable." Silas pivoted on his heel, heading straight for the door. "Wait—" He froze, his broad shoulders tensing. "My shirt," I said. His jaw tightened with anger.

He let out a dark, mocking scoff. His fingers went to the buttons, aggressively ripping them open. The expensive fabric parted, exposing his hard abs.

I ripped my gaze away, staring at the wall. He lunged. His heavy, calloused fingers snapped around my wrist like a steel trap.

I thrashed against his grip, but he overpowered me effortlessly, slamming my open palm flat against the burning heat of his chest.

His heart beat hard against my skin. "Do you touch him like this, too?" he snarled, a low, territorial growl vibrating through his ribs.

He shoved my hand away like my touch physically burned him. "You disgust me." A cruel, arrogant smirk twisted his lips. "Honestly? I’m relieved.

You tried so damn hard for years, and I never felt a single thing for you. Your garbage taste perfectly matches your personality.

Nobody wants this." He peeled the shirt off his shoulders, chucked the balledup fabric straight at my chest, and slammed the door behind him. Total radio silence followed.

Rumor had it Silas threw backtoback VIP parties, actively celebrating his newfound freedom. Back then, his toxic popularity fed my crippling insecurity.

I constantly suffocated him with jealousy, and he punished me for it by going out even more. He never once reassured me. He preferred weaponizing it.

He used to stare me down and remind me how many stunning women threw themselves at him, making sure I knew I barely made the cut. “You really think you can leash me, Stella?

Keep crying about it,” he used to mock. Thank God that pathetic version of me was dead. I didn't care anymore. Silas never touched social media.

But tonight, a glossy group photo popped up on his feed. A massive dinner party at his penthouse.

Right behind his shoulder, a gorgeous girl with effortless waves was cradling his golden retriever. The glowing text flickered across my retinas again. [Tears!

The main girl finally got in a group pic!] [The side piece must be choking on her regrets seeing them together.] [Does anyone actually know who she cheated with?

Or is the rebound too ugly to name? LMAO.] [She needs to roll away permanently.

She really thought Silas would ever look back?] Days later, the air inside the VIP lounge of a private club felt thick with heavy bass and expensive cologne.

Silas occupied the booth right next to mine. Clinking crystal glasses and loud laughter blurred together. I kept my eyes locked on my drink. He didn't spare me a single glance.

Men moved on with terrifying speed when they never actually cared. Perfect. I didn't expect him to corner me by the restrooms.

He leaned against the velvetlined wall, completely draped in shadows. His black silk shirt clung to his chest, his tailored trench coat slung carelessly over one arm.

He looked lethal. Like a predator waiting for his date. His dark eyes tracked me as I walked past him into the bathroom, totally silent.

When I pushed the door open minutes later, he hadn't moved an inch. I kept my chin up and walked straight past him. A low, dangerous scoff vibrated in his throat.

His hot hand clamped the back of my neck. His long fingers dug mercilessly into my skin, jerking me backward.

He shoved me through an unmarked door, plunging us into the pitchblack void of an empty private room. I fought wildly, swinging my elbows.

He ignored the hits, slamming the heavy soundproof door shut with a violent crack that rattled my spine.

He boxed me against the solid wood, his towering frame completely eclipsing mine. He smelled like bourbon and cedar.

He didn't even touch my lips yet, but the anticipation paralyzed me. His head dipped. He crashed his mouth against mine in a brutal, consuming kiss. I twisted my face away, panting.

He chased my lips, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my jaw to lock my head in place. I thrashed against his chest, but the violent friction only fueled him.

He pulled me tight against him, knocking the breath out of me. His Adam’s apple bobbed against my cheek as he swallowed a growl.

The ragged sound of his breathing filled the dark room. He was drowning in his obsession. He kissed me like he wanted to suffocate us both. Total bastard.

He finally ripped his mouth away, his chest heaving violently. A smear of dark blood swelled on his bottom lip from my teeth.

The edges of his eyes were flushed a deep, feverish red. His rough thumb dragged across my swollen mouth, wiping away the wetness. "I forgive you for cheating," he rasped.

His voice was rough. His grip on my jaw tightened. "Tell me.

Who is the shameless homewrecker?" I glared straight into his unhinged eyes. "He isn't a homewrecker." Chapter 7 Silas froze. He knew that look perfectly.

It was the exact, fiercely protective glare I used to weaponize against anyone who crossed him. Reserved exclusively for him. Now, he was the outsider.

He flinched like I had struck him. A bitter laugh escaped him. "Does your heart really bleed for him that much?" “Who kisses you better, Stella? Me?

Or him?” I hadn’t even kissed Rowan yet. But I didn't hesitate for a single second. “Him.” Silas’s entire demeanor shattered.

Jealousy spiked through him, his eyes darkening. "Don't fucking talk about him!" “You're the one who asked—” He didn't let me finish.

His heavy fingers clamped around my jaw, bruising the bone as he crushed his mouth violently against mine again. Smack. My palm cracked across his cheek.

The explosive sound echoed in the suffocating darkness. His head snapped to the side. He froze, completely stunned.

He knew exactly how obsessed I used to be with his flawless face. “You're my wife,” he rasped. The arrogant bastard actually sounded genuinely betrayed. “He seduced you.

If he isn't a shameless homewrecker, what the hell is he?” “I'm not your wife anymore.

I remarried.” I stared dead into his eyes, saying every single syllable clearly. “You are the homewrecker.” The morning I signed the papers with Rowan, the sky was still pitch black