The Fiancée Who Picked the Wrong Family

My brother’s fiancée was a snake.

The very first day she set foot in our house, she cooed at me, her voice all honey and silk.

“Ethan, your sister is just adorable.”

A second later, she “tripped,” sending a full cup of coffee splashing across the limited-edition designer bag my brother had just given me.

Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “Oh, Mia, I am so, so sorry. Let me pay for it…”

As she said it, her gaze darted to my brother, a silent, pleading prayer for him to swoop in and save her.

But before he could say a word, I smiled. A sharp, bright, unforgiving smile.

“Pay for it? Sophia, why don't you just cut the act?”

“What, are you jealous that my brother buys me nice things? If you’re that jealous, just say it.”

“Pulling this kind of pathetic, underhanded stunt…”

I shoved the ruined bag right in front of her face.

“Don’t you feel disgusting?”

Sophia recoiled, a perfect picture of wounded innocence, her eyes flicking around the living room, searching for an ally.

Tough luck. My brother worships the ground I walk on, my parents would move mountains for me, and my grandparents? They think the sun rises and sets with me.

The support she was hoping for never came. Instead, she got my grandmother’s furious gasp, my grandfather’s hand slamming on the table, and my father’s icy glare.

And from my brother, a sharp, disbelieving question that cut through the air.

“Sophia! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The color drained from the snake’s face, leaving it a chalky, brittle white.

1

Today was the first time I was officially meeting my future sister-in-law.

She arrived with beautifully wrapped gift boxes in hand, her smile a carefully crafted mix of warmth and grace.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, it’s so wonderful to meet you. And you must be Mia’s grandparents.”

She gave a slight, deferential bow, her posture screaming humility.

“Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have,” my mother said, her own smile genuine as she welcomed her in. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home.” My father gave a quiet nod of approval.

Sophia stepped inside, and her eyes landed on me. Her smile deepened.

“And you must be Mia. You’re even prettier in person. Ethan was right, you’re absolutely adorable.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I replied, offering a sweet smile of my own.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his voice filled with a dopey sort of pride. “This is my little sister, Mia. Mia, this is your future sister-in-law, Sophia.”

“Hi, Sophia,” I chirped.

“Mia, look what I got for you,” Ethan said, holding out a box. “That bag you were talking about last week? I managed to track one down.”

My eyes went wide. I shot up from the couch. “No way! I thought the waitlist was months long!”

“Your big brother has his connections, doesn’t he?” He grinned, ruffling my hair with that familiar, loving gesture.

Sophia walked over to me, her eyes glinting as she took in the box. “That’s a beautiful bag, Mia. Ethan is just so good to you.”

My fingers had just brushed the strap, my own “thank you” forming on my lips, when I caught a glimpse of her expression as she turned away.

It wasn't envy. It wasn't admiration.

It was pure, unadulterated jealousy.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

This woman didn’t like me. She was putting on a show.

She seamlessly pivoted back to my parents, her voice a soft, melodic murmur, every word perfectly chosen.

Ethan, meanwhile, was completely oblivious, beaming like an idiot.

“Mom, Dad, isn’t Sophia great? She’s so sweet and thoughtful, and she’s already so good to Mia.”

Good to me? Right.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain.

My parents just smiled and nodded, and for a moment, the living room was a picture of perfect harmony.

2

And just like that, Sophia moved in.

Ostensibly, it was to “get to know the family better” before the wedding.

After dinner one evening, I was curled up in my attic loft, reading a graphic novel.

I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by Sophia’s voice, deliberately softened to a breathy whisper.

“Ethan, look at Mia’s loft! It’s so romantic. With that huge skylight, you must be able to see all the stars at night.”

I didn’t even lift my head.

Ethan’s voice was laced with a smile. “Yeah, Mia’s loved this space since she was a kid.”

“It’s amazing,” Sophia breathed, her tone full of longing. “Ethan, what do you think about us turning this into our own little private space after we’re married? We could make it a cozy reading nook or a home theater. It would be so romantic!”

Ethan paused. “But… this is Mia’s room.”

Sophia ignored him.

The footsteps continued up the stairs. Her face appeared in the doorway, plastered with that impeccably considerate smile.

“Mia, honey. Reading?”

She walked in, her gaze sweeping greedily across the photos and books lining my walls, finally settling on the glass skylight above.

She turned back to me, her voice practically dripping honey.

“Mia, sweetie, I was just thinking. It must be so inconvenient for you, living all the way up here in the attic, having to go up and down these stairs all the time.”

“The guest room downstairs is so much bigger and more accessible. Why don’t you let me… look after the loft for you? I promise I’ll keep it spotless. You can move into the guest room, and your parents won’t have to worry about you getting tired from the stairs.”

If you want to steal my room, just say so. Why wrap it in a pretty little bow?

I finally looked up from my book.

“No, thanks, Sophia.”

The smile on her face froze for a fraction of a second.

I blinked innocently. “This is my room. I’ve lived up here for over a decade. I don’t find it inconvenient at all.”

Then, as if a brilliant idea had just struck me, I raised my voice just enough to carry down the stairs.

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