Aneliese (II)

I heard a knock at the door, and Dad walked in, looking awkward. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey, Dad!” I hopped off the bed, still in my nightgown, and planted a kiss on his cheek, wrapping him in a tight hug. 

My heart sank knowing I wouldn’t get to give him my usual warm good-morning anymore. 

“I’m so sorry for everything, sweetheart,” he said, his voice heavy. 

“Don’t be.” I shrugged, stretching lazily. 

I grabbed my phone and checked my glucose levels. All good. I’d been extra careful that week—no way was I letting my wedding day get derailed by a health scare. 

“The only silver lining,” Dad said, “is maybe your husband can convince his brother’s company to bring back your old insulin. It was so much better, wasn’t it?” 

“I doubt Jorel has any sway over his brother. But… maybe I’ll ask Gabe Clifford myself to get the company to start making it again. Could be they ran out of supplies or something.” 

“If you want to back out, there’s still time,” he said, his eyes steady, pleading with me to reconsider. 

“And leave you all on the street?” 

“I’ll get a loan from another bank.” 

“No one’s giving you a loan, Dad. The whole world knows you’re drowning in debt. Gabe Clifford made sure of that. And if anyone tries to help you, that man will ruin them. Whatever you did to him, it must’ve been bad.” 

“If only I knew what!” He scratched his head, lost in thought. 

We’d gone over it a million times and concluded Gabe Clifford must’ve been wronged by Dad somehow, even if indirectly. We’d searched for answers but came up empty. 

My mission was to figure out what my soon-to-be brother-in-law had against the Aberttons—against Dad, specifically. Once I did, Dad could apologize, and everything would be fine. No problem was unsolvable. I was living proof of that. 

I knew Gabe Clifford had spun a nightmare for me, a web to trap me for who-knows-how-long, all to prove he was some untouchable god who got whatever he wanted. His goal? To hurt Dad. 

What Gabe didn’t know was that I’d been a tiny spider caught in countless webs, ones I never thought I’d escape. But the impossible happened—I broke free from that invisible prison, drank my own venom, and swore never to do to anyone what was done to me. 

I saw myself as happy and free now. Nothing could be worse than the hell I was born into, the one I lived in until I was ten. As long as I wasn’t starving or thirsty, I’d figure out the rest. 

I learned everything the hard way—through pain, through physical and emotional torment. But there were good people too, ones who crossed my path and even saved me from death. I promised God that if I ever escaped that hell, my mission would be to do good, to help others, to free them from suffering. And I’d kept that promise, up to this moment. If Jorel and Gabe Clifford needed healing, I was their medicine. The irony? They owned the world’s biggest pharmaceutical company. 

**GABE’S POV** 

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Gabe?” Aneliese asked me. 

“Absolutely,” I replied. 

“This girl… she’s not to blame for what happened with Mônica and the baby.” 

I grabbed my sister’s forearm, firm but careful not to hurt her, making one thing clear: 

“Never mention Mônica or the baby out loud again.” 

“I… I’m not shouting. It’s just us here,” she said, wide-eyed, pulling her arm free. 

We were in a room at the church, waiting for Jorel. 

“Mônica’s dead. Don’t ever bring her up.” 

“You’re unhinged. You need help, Gabe. Keep this up, and I’ll ban you from seeing my daughter.” 

“You know she’s the only thing in this world I care about. You wouldn’t dare.” 

“She’s not a *thing*. She’s a person, a human being. My daughter. Your niece—nothing more.” 

“You wouldn’t use her against me, would you?” My voice softened, knowing how much that would shake her. 

“I don’t know, Gabe. Would you use a child against me if you had one?” 

Hell yeah, I would. Did she still have doubts? 

She smiled and took my hand. 

“I know you wouldn’t. We’re siblings, and you care about me!” I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me or being sincere. 

Aneliese stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. I stepped back, rattled. I wasn’t used to affection, and honestly, I didn’t like it. 

“Where’s your husband? Didn’t see him in the church.” 

“Rowan refused to be part of this circus. And obviously, I didn’t bring my daughter. I want to know what you did to convince Jorel to marry this girl.” 

“Threatened to cut off his allowance.” 

“Isn’t that his right?” 

“Not really.” 

“What kind of messed-up deal did you make with him? Did you screw over our brother? Jorel’s not a bad person. He barely knows what went down between you and Mônica.” 

“Aneliese, I’m not here to argue about this. And let’s be clear: Jorel doesn’t know why I’m tearing the Aberttons apart.” 

“Gabe, Ernest Abertton is the one to blame, not his whole family. And… where did you find these people in the church? They’re not our family or friends. Except for Rael, you don’t even *have* friends! And I doubt Jorel invited anyone to a wedding he doesn’t even want.” 

“I paid some people to show up. They watch the wedding, eat, drink, leave with nice photos of Ernest Abertton’s daughter’s failed marriage, and spread them to the press.” I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I doubt the bride even had time to invite her own friends or family. Even if she did, I’m not sure she’d want anyone to witness her terrible choice.” 

“I don’t think Jorel’s a terrible choice. He’s easy to love. You’re taking a big risk here—pairing up two people who might actually fall for each other.” 

I swallowed hard. That thought had already crossed my mind. Jorel seemed smitten with the Abertton girl, and it felt mutual. Could I make Ernest’s “sweetheart” suffer if Jorel decided to protect her? Jorel didn’t have the power to defy me, but if he chose to be a good, faithful husband… I’d be screwed. 

It was unlikely, but not impossible. There was a spark between them, a connection I couldn’t deny. 

A knock at the door interrupted us. Ingrid stepped in. 

“Mr. Clifford, I’ve announced what you requested to the press. It’ll be all over the papers tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Ingrid. And my brother? Is he ready?” 

“Your brother hasn’t shown up.” 

I glanced at my watch. It was time for the wedding. Jorel should’ve been here already. 

“Why did everyone have to wear white? Bride’s request?” Aneliese asked. 

“Nope. Just a little surprise I planned for her. I did some digging—brides wear white to stand out. It’s *their* color. Olívia Abertton will look even more invisible than she already is.” I grinned, picturing her face when she saw every guest in white. 

“You’re cruel. You know she can’t have another church wedding after this, right? At least not traditionally. You’re ruining her day.” 

I laughed. 

“Worse than marrying Jorel? Everyone wearing white is the least of Olívia Stick-Figure’s problems.” 

Aneliese tilted her head, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

“And what did you have your secretary leak to the press?” 

“That the bride’s a bastard, born from Ernest Abertton’s affair with a prostitute.” 

“That’s… disgusting.” She grimaced. “I’ll be ashamed if Olívia Abertton finds out I’m your sister.” 

“She won’t. You think anyone’s introducing you two? Besides, I didn’t lie.” 

“She’s… really a bastard?” 

“Yep. Still her father’s favorite, though.” 

“And her mom being a prostitute?” 

“True. She was out there, somewhere, until Ernest had to take her in after her mother died.” 

“What a tragic life that girl’s had. I wonder if she’ll ever find happiness… a horrible past and a future that doesn’t look much brighter.” 

I checked my watch again. Ten minutes past when Jorel was supposed to arrive. 

I stepped out of the room and saw Ingrid heading my way. Her expression told me everything—Jorel had bailed. 

“Mr. Clifford… your brother isn’t coming.” 

“Where the hell is he?” 

“Right now, he’s on a commercial flight to the States… with a woman.” 

My pulse raced. My dead heart was coming back to life, and I knew it was so I could strangle Jorel the next time I saw that idiot. 

“Freeze all his bank accounts. Now!” I snapped, storming out, my head spinning.