Engaged To A Coldhearted Murderer

My fiancée smiled as she showed me the "intruder" she had dealt with in the ER. I looked past her to see my mother beaten unconscious on the floor. And on the gurney next to her lay my seven-year-old brother, cold, blue, and dead. Brittnie clung to my arm, beaming with pride. "I handled it, Cannon," she chirped. "That gold digger tried to claim this bastard was your son. But I made sure they wouldn't bother us again." My blood turned to ice. She was holding my mother' s emerald brooch, a family heirloom, convinced it was her engagement ring. Because of her delusion, she had refused to give my brother his EpiPen. She had watched him suffocate to death, thinking she was winning my heart. I looked at Gabe' s lifeless body, then at the woman I was planning to marry. I pulled out my phone and shoved a family photo in her face. "That gold digger is my mother," I whispered, my voice trembling with lethal rage. "And you just murdered my brother."

Chapters

Chapter 3

Eleanora Bryan POV:

The brooch. Cannon had indeed restored it. It was my husband, Gabe's father, who had inherited it from his mother, Cannon's grandmother. Cannon had given it to me on my last birthday, a quiet dinner at home, a gesture of his enduring love and respect. He said it was time it came back to me, the matriarch. He'd even joked about how Brittnie would probably like the design, but it was mine.

Now, in Brittnie's twisted mind, it was a symbol of betrayal. She had seen the receipt. Cannon must have shown her a picture, perhaps excitedly talking about its beauty, and she, in her possessive delusion, had appropriated it as her own. She believed it was for her. Her engagement gift.

The realization hit me like another physical blow. She genuinely believed I was stealing from her, stealing her man, stealing her future. Her jealousy, fueled by a terrifying insecurity, had morphed into this monstrous delusion.

Brittnie's face was flushed, her eyes wild. "You heard him, you old witch! He loves me! He's going to marry me!" She clutched the brooch so hard I thought she might crush it. "He's never looked at anyone else. Never!"

Her voice went from a shriek to a desperate whisper. "He's mine. He promised. He told me he'd give me everything I ever wanted." She was staring into the middle distance, lost in her own distorted reality. "He can't have a past. Not one that threatens us."

A chilling plan began to unfold in her deranged eyes. She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

"Clabe! Get down to the ER VIP intake. I have a situation. A… pest. And bring your phone. I need you to record something for me."

My blood ran cold. Clabe. Brittnie's brother, the hospital's Head of Security. A thug in a suit, a man known for his brutal efficiency and utter loyalty to his sister. This was bad. Very bad.

"Brittnie, please! Gabe! Look at him!" I cried, crawling towards the gurney, desperate. "He's barely breathing! He needs help now!"

Gabe's small body was wracked with silent tremors, his lips a terrifying shade of purple. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now half-closed.

"He's dying!" I shrieked, tears blurring my vision. "You're killing him!"

Another nurse, a young woman with kind eyes, peered tentatively around the corner. "Nurse Snow? Is everything... okay? I heard yelling."

Brittnie straightened, her face instantly composed, a professional mask slipping back into place. "Everything's fine, Nurse Anya. Just a hysterical family member. Nothing to worry about."

Anya hesitated, her gaze darting to Gabe, then to my bruised face on the floor. Her eyes widened with alarm. "But... the patient, he looks critical. Should we administer the EpiPen?"

Brittnie shot her a look so sharp it could cut glass. "Are you questioning my judgment, Nurse Anya? Or perhaps you'd like to find another hospital to work at? I'm sure Clabe would be happy to help you pack your things."

Anya flinched. Her shoulders slumped, and she retreated, her face pale. The fear Brittnie and Clabe instilled in the staff was absolute.

"Please, Brittnie," I begged, my voice raw, stripped of all dignity. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just save my son. He's so young. He has his whole life ahead of him."

Brittnie stared at me, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. Her eyes, filled with an ancient, predatory glee, seemed to rake over Gabe.

"Let him die," she whispered, her voice a chilling caress. "He's a complication. A messy reminder. I don't want to be a stepmother. Especially not to... that."

"No!" I cried, my voice tearing. "He's Cannon's brother! Cannon loves him! He's not just some complication!"

Brittnie's face hardened. She kicked me in the side, a glancing blow, but enough to make me gasp in pain. "Don't you dare talk about 'Cannon's brother' to me. You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know a sugar baby when I see one?"

"I'm his mother!" I screamed, the words tearing from my soul.

Brittnie just laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Oh, you're someone's mother, alright. But not Cannon's. Not anymore. Not in my world."

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