She Killed Her Sister To Save Her Lover

I was married to my nemesisa power couple in name only.

We kept separate lives, a perfect, icy truce. While she made a spectacle of chasing a younger guy, I drowned my sorrow over the woman who was my one perfect memory, my guiding star.

But her boy toy, Brody Wells, didn't believe our marriage was a formality. He didn't trust that his queen was truly his. To test the watersand perhaps my resolvehe'd sneak into our marital penthouse in the dead of night. He once torched the million-dollar, custom-made wedding gown Id commissioned in Italy, the one I had intended for Nora. Another time, he'd feign drunkenness and deliberately lose the wedding band my wife never took off. And every few days, he'd post veiled threats on social media, trying to challenge my status as the legitimate husband.

My wife, Sloan, would call, her voice laced with weary annoyance. "The kid is jealous, I..."

Id cut her off impatiently. "Replace the ring. Fix the damage. Just don't bother me."

I genuinely thought we'd keep this arrangement forever: mutually undisturbed, existing in parallel hells.

Until Brody, emboldened by Sloans blind protection, went too far. He used Sloan's name to steal the specialist appointment I had practically crawled on my knees to secure for Nora.

My Nora died because of that delay.

It was then I understood. Sloan Harrington and I could never be well again. For the rest of this life, we were each other's consequence, two people destined to destroy one another.

I watched as Nora Clarkes body was moved into the cremation chamber, reduced to a handful of ash.

I held her urn, my arms shaking, and buried her myself. Staring at the beautiful, radiant smile etched onto her headstone, the suffocating grief I'd been holding back surged forward, a tidal wave threatening to drown me whole.

I knelt at her grave, tearless, my face a terrifying mask of ice. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I traced the outline of her photograph, sitting there from dawn until the sky was pitch-black.

Nora, I have to go now. Someone has to pay for this. Don't rush to cross over. Wait for me. Ill exact my revenge, and then Ill come find you.

Reluctantly, I walked away from the cemetery gates. I had a debt to collect for her, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing my own life.

The accumulated grief in my chest curdled, transforming into towering, consuming rage.

Nora shouldn't have died. I had secured Dr. Vaughn's coveted treatment slotthe slot Id practically mortgaged my soul foronly for Sloan to use my wifes authority to hand it to her beloved Brody Wells for a common cold. By the time I realized the theft, Dr. Vaughn, infuriated by the scheduling error, had already flown overseas. I could only watch, helpless, as Nora took her last breath in my arms.

Slamming the gas pedal to the floor, I drove like a fugitive, the speedometer needle touching the absolute maximum.

I randomly called Sloans number. She picked up instantly. Carl Owen. Are you finally calling to surrender? If you kneel and beg me, I mightmightforgive you for your decades of neglect, and perhaps even graciously save that little tramp of yours.

Sloans mocking voice echoed from the receiver, followed by a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

The great Owen is finally cracking? Honestly, Cal, you need to be the bigger man. Apologize. When you get here, we'll all bear witness!

Owen, remember to bring a case of the good stuff. We need to see your sincerity, don't we?

And he definitely has to buy Brody a gift, or Nora the short-lived ghost can forget about getting any help from our dear Sloan.

My rationality, already frayed, was incinerated completely the moment I heard them use Nora's name like that.

Fine. Give me the address, I said, my voice dry and gravelly.

I hung up the second I got the location. The roar of the engine mixed with the frantic thump-thump of my heart as the tires screamed on the pavement. I slammed the brakes at the entrance of the exclusive private club, snatched a steel baton from a security booth, and stormed towards the private dining suite.

I kicked the door open, meeting Sloans bored, casual gaze.

Well, Mr. Owen. Where is Brodys gift?

The sycophantic girl who had just called Nora a "short-lived ghost" stepped closer, a smirk plastered on her face.

I raised the baton and brought it down hard across her head. A fountain of hot, visceral crimson instantly erupted.

Carl Owen, youre insane!

She screamed. Before anyone could process what was happening, I had snatched Brody Wells, who stood apart, grinning smugly at my arrival. I swung the baton again, bringing it down with crushing force onto his shoulder. He let out a shriek of raw agony, and that finally jolted Sloan back to reality.

She shoved me away and quickly shielded Brody behind her.

Carl Owen! Are you losing it? Youre acting like a rabid dog, tearing apart the furniture! She glared at me, her brow furrowed with pure disgust.

I walked toward her, one slow step at a time. The baton in my hand was gripped so tightly my knuckles were white. Yes, Sloan. I lost it. The moment you took Noras last chance at life and gave it to this animal, I lost everything.

Hearing Noras name, Sloan let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. Still obsessed with that little tramp? Did she call you to complain? She really is a useless thing who can only rely on a man

I cut her off with a sharp, stinging slap across her face. You dont have the right to speak her name, you criminal!

My slap ignited a rage in Sloan that matched my own. She stood up, poking my chest with a manicured finger, her voice a low, venomous growl. A slut is a slut! Why cant I mention her? Dont forget, you are still my husband, Carl Harrington!

Her eyes were filled with hatred. She grabbed a nearby steak knife and pressed the point lightly against my cheek. Come on, dear husband. Apologize to my Brody-bear.

Maybe if my mood improves, Ill even let that tramp live a few more days.

With the knife pressed against me, I was unable to fight. She forced me to crouch down like a dog in front of Brody.

I curled my lip into a smile. Fine. If you can save Nora, Ill kowtow to him. Ill grovel.

Sloans face instantly chilled, only to snap back into a sneer a second later. Perfect. Id like to see just how low youll sink for that slut!

The instant she removed the knife, I lunged like a starved wolf, pulling Brody to the floor, sinking my teeth into his neck arteryI wanted to rip him apart!

Sloan screamed for her security guards to drag me off. My head hit the floor, but I felt no pain. Only sheer, savage release. I let out a rattling laugh, cold eyes fixed on Brody as he wailed in terror, blood soaking his shirt.

Sloan walked over, had a guard yank me up by the collar, and looked me dead in the eye, her expression vile. You ungrateful, lowlife piece of trash! Since you won't do it the easy way, you can strip naked, kneel on the floor, and beg Brody for forgiveness!

Otherwise

I wiped the blood from my lips and met her gaze fearlessly. Otherwise what?