She Marries The Wrong Brother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

She knew something was wrong the moment she opened her eyes.It was not panic at first. Panic came later. What came first was the silence. The heavy, deliberate kind that did not belong to her room, or to the house she had been raised in, or to the life she had agreed to step into.The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. Too high. Too clean. There was no crack near the corner, no faint water stain she had once memorised while lying awake at night. The curtains were thick, dark, drawn with intention rather than carelessness.Her body stiffened under the sheets.She did not move immediately. She listened instead. To the quiet hum of the air, to the distant sound of the city beyond the walls, to the steady rhythm of breathing that was not hers.Slowly, carefully, she turned her head.The man beside her was awake.He was lying on his back, one arm resting casually over the covers, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as though he had been waiting for this exact moment. There was no confusion on hi

Breakfast was already underway when they entered.Laughter drifted across the long table, soft and unguarded, the kind that came from people who believed nothing in their lives was about to change. She felt the shift the moment they stepped inside. Not silence. Not stares. Just a subtle recalibration, as though the room had adjusted its posture around him.His hand found her back as they moved forward. Not guiding her, exactly. More like reminding her where she belonged in the moment. She resisted the instinct to step away and focused instead on the steady rhythm of her breathing.“Lift your chin,” he said under his breath.She stiffened. “Don’t.”He didn’t repeat himself. He simply waited. The pause was brief, but deliberate.She lifted her chin.They reached the table.A woman rose immediately, tall and composed, her smile warm in a way that did not invite familiarity.“There you are,” she said. “We were beginning to worry.”He smiled back, effortless, assured. “Apologies. The morni

She stayed in the room longer than she intended. At first, she told herself it was defiance. If he thought he could schedule her movements the way he had scheduled everything else, then she would do the opposite. She would sit on the edge of the bed and let the minutes stretch, let the quiet press in, let the anger burn itself steady instead of sharp.But as time passed, the anger dulled into something heavier.Thoughts crept in, not dramatic ones, just small and relentless. Where exactly had her brother gone. Who decided it was urgent. How many conversations had taken place before she ever opened her eyes that morning.She stood and crossed the room, pausing by the window. The grounds outside were immaculate, gravel paths and trimmed hedges arranged with the kind of order that suggested nothing ever happened here unless someone allowed it.A knock came at the door, steady and unhurried.She didn’t answer. After a brief pause, the handle turned anyway.He stepped inside, closing the d

She woke before the house did. Not because she was rested, but because the quiet felt temporary, like something that would be taken from her the moment she let herself relax into it. Light crept in through the narrow gap between the curtains, pale and undecided.Her phone lay where she’d left it, face down on the table. She didn’t turn it over.Downstairs, a door closed softly. Footsteps crossed the marble floor. The house was waking, stretching itself back into order.By the time she dressed and left the room, the corridors were already alive with movement. Staff passed her with polite nods, eyes careful, expressions neutral. She wondered how much they knew, how much they guessed, and how much they had been instructed never to notice.She found him in the study. The door was open. He stood near the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled back, one hand braced against the desk as he spoke into the phone.“Yes,” he said calmly. “Tomorrow works.”A pause.“No,” he continued. “She won’t be jo

She did not go to the west wing again.Not because she accepted his warning, but because the house had made its point. Doors that had been open the day before now sat closed. Corridors felt narrower. Even the light seemed more selective, lingering in some rooms and avoiding others. It was as if the house itself had learned her name overnight.By midmorning, the other brother found her in the sitting room, flipping through a book she had already read twice.“You’re quiet today,” he said, lowering himself into the chair opposite her.“I’m thinking,” she replied.“That’s usually when trouble starts.”She smiled despite herself. “For you, maybe.”“For everyone,” he said easily. Then, more carefully, “He spoke to you yesterday.”“Yes.”“About the west wing.”“Yes.”He leaned back, studying the ceiling. “You don’t listen well.”“I listen,” she said. “I just don’t obey automatically.”That earned her a soft laugh. “That explains why he’s irritated.”“I didn’t think he needed an explanation.”