My Fiance Loved My Sister

The fortune teller said I'd entered a great fortune cycle of fire, and that in this doubled-fire year, marrying now would bring the most luck of all.

My boyfriend, Clay Gilbert, heir to one of New York's elite families, was famous for spoiling the woman he loved.

The moment he heard the fortune teller's words, the urge to marry me took him over like a fever, like a man possessed.

On the day he proposed for the ninety-ninth time, the night sky burst open with fireworks.

Clay dropped to one knee, took my hand, and solemnly slid the ring onto my finger.

"My sweet girl, you've got a stubborn heart. You're always afraid I won't hold steady. But listen to me. No one in this world can take you from me, and no one can push me away."

"I love you. Marry me."

The castle was thirty meters high, built entirely of roses, made by his own hands over months.

Across the top it read: Odette Simmons, I love you.

I nodded, shy, and around us my friends were moved to tears.

Even my sister, the fake heiress Maud Henson, was crying with what looked like envy.

"Sis, if I hadn't helped you scheme back then, if I hadn't even picked out which dress you should wear on your dates, do you think Clay would have ever looked twice at you?"

"Seeing you this happy makes me want to fall in love too."

I was too caught up in my own joy to hear the second meaning buried in her words.

Not until just past midnight, when a strange call came through.

The caller ID showed, unmistakably, "me" five years from now.

I picked up, brimming with happiness, and asked, "In the years ahead, are Clay and I really happy? How many kids do we have by now? If he ever dares raise his voice at our babies, you beat him up good for me!"

But on the other end, there was only a choked, long-suppressed weeping.

"Kids? I got pregnant nine times. Lost all nine. Not one of them lived."

"That fire fortune, that lucky cycle it's all garbage."

"That fire didn't burn away anything but lies and calculation. It burned away the illusion and laid bare every filthy thing inside this marriage."

"If I could do it over, I'd die before I ever married Clay Gilbert."

In that instant, the smile froze solid on my face.

"Did Clay change his heart? Did he fall for someone else?"

The "me" on the other end let out a bleak, broken laugh that made my heart tremble.

"The lock screen on Clay's phone it's that precious sister of yours. Maud Henson."

A ringing filled my head. My mind went blank, my breath coming fast and shallow.

Before I could ask anything more, a fierce argument erupted through the phone.

"Odette Simmons, you're truly ruthless! Maud is your own sister, and you pushed her down the stairs and broke her leg!"

That was Clay, five years from now, his voice cold to the bone, not a shred of love left in it for me.

"I'm tired. Let's get divorced. Stop tormenting me."

"Clay, I can't live like this anymore. If you'll just agree, I'll kowtow to you. You wanted me to apologize to Maud, right? I'll go do it right now!"

The me in the phone had been ground down into the dirt.

I stood frozen where I was, cold all over.

Was this really my future?

Why would Clay protect Maud?

And why would I turn into someone that wretched?

While I stood there, lost, the phone spoke again.

It was the "me" from five years on.

This time her voice was pure panic, ragged with a scream.

"Listen to me! Whatever you do, don't go to the bridal fitting! Don't even touch the dress! Stay as far away as you can!"

"Or my today becomes your tomorrow."

The line went dead.

I touched my face without thinking, and found it, somewhere along the way, already soaked with tears.

Clay came out of the bathroom, water sliding down the clean lines of his abs.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips just brushing the tip of my ear before he felt the tears covering my face.

That doting warmth vanished in an instant. He turned me toward him, panic all over his face.

"Baby, who upset you? Tell me. I'll destroy him."

Watching him fret like that, my heart clenched hard.

The Clay in front of me and the cold-blooded man on the phone were nothing alike.

All these years, he really had kept me cradled in his hands.

One little frown from me, and he'd spend half the day coaxing it away.

I'd offhandedly say a piece of jewelry was pretty, and he'd burn a fortune at auction for one useless stone.

When I couldn't sleep and my nerves frayed, he brought the city's top psychiatrists into our home, all of it just to treat me.

Everyone said Clay loved me down to his bones.

I'd once pinched his chin and warned him.

"Clay, if you're going to love me, you'll stay this crazy about me for life. One degree less, and I don't want you."

Back then he'd bent down and kissed me, his eyes devout.

"Don't worry. If I ever wrong you, I'll swallow ten thousand silver needles."

The vow was still in my ears. But that ruin five years from now told me the truth. People change.

I dragged out a bitter smile and pointed at the coat he'd draped over the chair, at the lace peeking out of the pocket.

"What's that?"

It was a woman's underwear, extremely revealing, barely any fabric to it.

I was certain it wasn't mine.

A flicker of alarm crossed Clay's eyes, then he covered it smoothly.

"Baby, where'd you pick that up? I didn't even notice it."

He looked blank, then slapped his forehead with exaggerated force.

"Look at my memory! You scared me half to death. I thought something had actually happened to you."

"That's a surprise gift I bought for you. I proposed tonight, we get the license tomorrow, so shouldn't we celebrate properly? I was picturing you in it, the two of us"

He came at me smiling to pinch my cheek, and I knocked his hand away.

Seeing me stare at him, saying nothing, his eyes reddened at once.

Clay had the wounded act down cold.

"Baby, you don't actually think this belongs to some other woman, do you? We've been together this long. You don't know what kind of man I am? If I ever betrayed you, may lightning strike me dead."

Spitting out his vicious oath, he bent to kiss me, his breath scalding.

"Baby, you're a poison in my blood. I'd die without you."

I turned my face aside and pressed a hand to his chest, refusing him.

"You don't have to explain. I believe you."

At those words the shadow drained from Clay's eyes. He ruffled my hair, doting, didn't push for more, and got up to go make my lunch for tomorrow, the home-cooked meal packed with love.

I stepped out and watched his back as he worked under the light, wrapped in that pink apron.

My feelings were a tangle.

I'd asked him once why a Gilbert heir from New York's elite circle cooked with his own hands.

He'd laughed then, warm and a little silly.

"Odette, your stomach's bad. I don't trust restaurant food. Even a three-Michelin-star chef couldn't do it better than me."

He was so attentive. So gentle.

But I remembered what I'd said. This love, one degree less, and I don't want it.

At one in the morning, Clay washed his hands, came back to the bedroom, and gently nudged me awake.

"Baby, wake up. After work tomorrow, I'll come with you to try on the wedding dress."

My breath caught hard, and in that instant the me from five years later was echoing through my head, warning me again and again.

Whatever you do, don't go try on the wedding dress!

But Clay noticed nothing off about me. He just went on, smiling to himself.

"Oh, and I put your parents' gifts in the car already. We'll swing by and grab Maud too. Hasn't she been going on about wanting to try on a bridesmaid dress? Perfect, she can come along."

I lowered my lashes, hiding the chill in my eyes, and gave a small nod.

"Sure."

After work, I was on my way to the bridal salon.

The phone rang. Same number again, the one belonging to the "me" from five years ahead.

The second the call connected, the roar on the other end nearly split my eardrum.

"Odette Simmons! Are you deaf? I told you not to go try on that gown. Can you not understand plain words, or are you just so worthless you have to throw yourself into the fire?"

Then, all at once, the voice broke into a shrill, sobbing wail.

"Even knowing the future is a nightmare, you're still going to marry Clay Gilbert, aren't you?"

"So the me from five years ago loved him that much."

I looked at the endless line of stalled traffic ahead, my voice terrifyingly calm.

"Done? Don't call again. You're getting on my nerves."

Half an hour later, the bridal salon.

Clay's car was parked out front, but he wasn't in the main hall.

I found him at the far end of the fitting-room corridor.

I didn't push the door. I only stood at that narrow crack and watched, cold-eyed.

Maud Henson was wearing the custom gown that should have been mine, and the shape it drew on her really was lovely.

Clay's brows were drawn tight, his voice low but edged with anger.

"Who told you to put this one on? Take it off, don't let Odette see. Pick anything else you want, but not hers, never hers."

"Then what am I to you?"

Maud wouldn't be refused. She snapped up onto her toes and kissed him full on the mouth.

Clay clearly panicked for an instant.

"We can't. If Odette sees us here, I can't even imagine the fallout."

His mouth said no, but his hands clamped hard around Maud's waist.

The two of them slid out of control inside that kiss, breathing rough, drinking in this stolen moment of tenderness.

Only when Maud went soft against him and reached up to straighten his rumpled clothes did she say, all wounded and pouting,

"Clay, I want to marry you out in the open too."

Clay's face went cold in a heartbeat, and he pushed her back to arm's length.

"Not a chance!"

"We agreed. You can only be my secret lover, out of sight. If you can't keep your place, then we end here."

"The only woman I'll ever marry is Odette Simmons."

Maud's tears fell one fat drop after another, yet she instantly put on a meek, ingratiating smile.

"I understand. Take me to a hotel tonight, all right? Even as your nameless lover, I'm willing."

Watching them, my heart skipped one hard beat.

No more, no less. Exactly enough to cancel out that one messy skip from the first time Clay ever made my heart move.

I raised my hand and knocked on the fitting-room door, not soft, not hard.

"Clay, are you in there?"

A scramble of frantic noises came from inside.

"Sweetheart! Give me a second, I'm changing!" Clay's words came out in a rush.

The door opened.

Clay threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me away, no room for argument.

The force in it was enormous, as if terrified I might catch even a glimpse into the fitting room.

"Sweetheart, come on, I bought a stunning set of jewelry. You'll put it on and outshine any goddess in heaven."

His smile was tender and urgent all at once.

Clay went on,

"Paired with a white wedding gown, I can't even imagine how beautiful my sweetheart will be."

I went along with him, not arguing.

"Oh? Take me to see just how beautiful."

Seeing my attention pulled away, Clay let out a barely perceptible breath of relief and walked me off faster, arm still around me.

Yes.

The jewelry really was beautiful, glittering like starlight, and no woman can turn down beautiful things.

A pity, then, that I no longer even wanted Clay himself, which left these outside trinkets without the slightest meaning.

Just then, Maud, now changed back into her regular clothes, came walking over.

Youre finally here, sis. I already had your gown taken out for you. Go put it on, quick. Youll be the most beautiful bride in the world.

She meant my custom-made gown. The one shed been wearing while she pressed herself against Clay.

I waved her off, my finger pointing instead to the corner, to the gown no one had touched. A wedding dress black as ink.

I think black suits me better.

Maud clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

What? Black for a wedding? Thats bad luck.

Clays face darkened too, and his fingers clamped around my wrist.

Thats what widows wear! Odette, Im still alive and well. Dont be ridiculous.

I just looked at them, calm, and let a small smile pull at my lips.

Is that so? Because I think this color is exactly right for a happy occasion like today.

I stood in front of the mirror. The black gown was a black rose in full bloom, and against it my skin looked white as snow.

Stunning. Breathtaking.

One of a kind.

I ran my hand over the skirt, my voice quiet but landing clearly in Clays ears, and in Mauds.

White stands for purity? I think black is what deserves the woman I am today.

Clay was still trying to stop me, his voice frayed with agitation.

Sweetheart, enough. This black one really is bad luck. Go try the white again, or the red gown.

Through the mirror I watched the impatience written all over his face, and I laughed.

Clay. So were not breaking up?

Then Ill say it. You and I dont suit each other.

Clay froze on the spot, his pupils quaking.

Sweetheart, what did you say?

Maud snapped straight into her performance, stamping her foot as if desperate.

Odette, dont be stubborn, all right? If you let Clay slip away, what other man in this world would dote like this on a woman pushing thirty?

I turned slowly, my cold gaze settling on her face.

I still remember, back when Mom and Dad brought me home, you held me and cried and swore youd treat me as your real sister. That youd never fight me, never take what was mine.

Maud, did you keep the part about not fighting? Or is it that even the words never take are beyond you?

Know your place. Youre nothing but the familys fake heiress.

Under my stare her face drained white, and she stepped back without thinking.

That was when the doors of the bridal salon burst open with a crash.

A man with a twisted face rushed in, a thirty-centimeter blade in his hand, slashing at anyone he saw.

He was screaming.

Im forty and I still cant get a wife. Why should you rich people get to?

Screams broke out everywhere. Chaos. People scattering into a tangle.

Clay shouted.

Maud, look out!

The attacker drove the knife straight at Maud, who stood frozen in terror.

Clay lunged like something out of the sky, sweeping her into his arms and kicking the man away.

The man scrambled up, eyes bloodshot, scanning the crowd, and locked at last on me, alone, with no one to shield me.

A wet thud.

Agony tore through my stomach. I looked down at the blade sunk into my body.

Blood soaked the gown red in an instant.

The next second the world spun, and sleep dragged me under.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital.

To save me, Clay was having blood drawn from Maud, frantically, over and over.

The doctor was on his knees, his voice shaking.

Mr. Gilbert. We cant take any more. Miss Henson is already severely anemic. Drawing more could kill her.

Clays eyes were red, his fist twisted into the doctors collar.

Odette has a congenital clotting disorder. She has to be transfused. And Mauds tough, she can take it. Draw it.

Outside the door, Mom and Dad were sobbing their hearts out.

"Maud, please, you have to save Odette. She suffered so much as a child, she only just came home to us. We can't lose her now."

Maud's face was bloodless as paper, yet she still managed a weak little smile.

"It's all right. Clay, take as much as you need, as long as it saves her. Mom, Dad, you raised me all these years. This life of mine was yours to begin with."

She turned her head toward me, a flicker of triumph buried so deep in her eyes it was almost invisible, her voice soft as a sigh.

"So it turns out I have the same rare blood type too. That means I'm the only one who can save you now."

The whole room dissolved into grateful tears for Maud.

For one instant even I fell for it, as if refusing to be grateful to her would make me an ungrateful animal.

A tear slid from the corner of my eye. Not from the pain. From the cold.

I understood at last.

Understood why the "me" from five years in the future had fought so desperately to stop me from trying on that wedding gown.

This blade, this wound, was meant to chain me to Maud the walking blood bank kept alive to treat me and lock us together for good.

From now on she would be the whole family's savior, the mark of longing pressed into Clay's heart.

In the years to come, no matter how many times I caught them in the act, no matter how they flaunted their love in front of me.

What could I do?

I had taken her charity. I owed her my life.

I could already see it. In all the years ahead, every tonic, every jewel, every ounce of favor would pour toward her without end, restitution for the wronged fake heiress Maud Henson.

And I would go from cherished treasure to unwanted burden.

I looked at the crowd of relatives circling Maud, and at the man who stood there with red eyes, panicked over nothing but my blood.

Word by word, quietly, I severed every debt between us.

"Maud Henson's blood."

"I refuse it."

The room went dead silent in an instant.

Clay whipped around and stared at me, disbelieving. "Odette! Have you lost your mind? Do you want to die?"

I dragged out a smile, pale and cold, my voice clear and calm.

"I'd rather die than owe Maud Henson anything."

I lifted my eyes and looked straight into the eyes that had once doted on me, that had once favored me above everyone. Now there was nothing in them but shock and panic.

"Clay, Maud Henson's blood isn't clean."

"Once it touches me, I'll never wash the filth off as long as I live."