His Brother’s Bride
But then his jaw tightened, and he closed the diary slowly—too slowly.
He looked up, eyes burning into mine.
“Careful, Emily.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning—soft, dangerous, almost pitying.
He moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. My breath caught.
“I don’t like being questioned,” he said quietly. “Not by you. Not by anyone.”
Something in me snapped then—not out of courage, but exhaustion. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have married me out of compulsion from your father to save your father’s face,” I said, voice trembling but loud enough to fill the room.