Novel & Cerita Marrying My Sister's Murderer

The man across from me – Matteo Ricci, and my husband now, God help me – slid a ring onto my finger, and I felt the weight of the cold metal like a noose. Final. It was wrong in a way that only things belonging to the dead can feel wrong. This was Isabella's ring. She had worn it to the final fitting three weeks ago, turning her hand in the light while our mother cried and said she looked like a queen. Now it sat on my knuckle and I stood in Isabella's dress, in Isabella's church, surrounded by Isabella's life, while somewhere in the east wing of this marble mausoleum of a mansion, my sister was lying on the floor of a bedroom with a pool of blood surrounding her.

“She was the sister of a mafia don. Do you really think they would’ve touched her? Money buys silence. Power buries evidence.” “That doesn’t justify murder!” Aajiya snapped, standing up now. “We are not God to decide who lives and who dies!” “I didn’t decide as God!” Aadil’s voice rose. “I decided as a brother who thought his sister had been killed!” “And in doing so,” Inayat cut in coldly, “you became exactly like the people you hate.” Aadil fell silent. His eyes down. Aajiya looked at him with tears streaming down her face. “If I had died that night… I would never have wanted you to stain your hands with blood for me.”

He naturally took my hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand, his eyes brimming with tenderness: "This is the child we've been hoping for so long. Of course I want to give them the best." This display of devotion—if I hadn't heard the truth with my own ears, who would believe it was all an act? As we walked out of the mall, we ran into Emily coming toward us. She was wearing a well-tailored maternity dress. When she saw us, especially James holding my hand tightly, a flash of jealous hatred crossed her eyes before being deliberately replaced with smugness. But she was alone. It seemed my "dear sister's" marriage to my former fiancé wasn't as blissful as it had appeared.

Suspected murderer. And now… husband. Ariella lifted her eyes to meet his. Cold. Calculating. No warmth, no flicker of doubt — only a deadly kind of stillness. Like a man who’d slit a throat and still make it to dinner in a clean suit. "You look like you want to kill me," Lucien said, voice smooth as silk, yet edged with ice. “You’ll need to do better at hiding it, wife.” Wife. The word slithered down her spine like a curse.

"What the fuck did I tell you about my sister? Hmm? Do you ever listen, or are you really that fucking bent on getting yourself killed?" "She’s marrying Darren Antonellis in two weeks," I spat, the words giving me a surge of adrenaline that cut through some of the pain. "You gonna let that happen? After everything? You know what that family is. That’s why we were digging for loopholes in the first place. Don’t act like you don’t."

"And your wife is no longer the Luna." "She's a worthless bitch any way," he snarled. "I never should have married her. She has no blood for me, and I will be consumed by my wolf or die of poor health in here because of her. But mostly because of you." Standing as proud as I could, oddly, I felt a little defensive of my sister in this strange moment. Maybe it was because she was supposed to be me, and this abusive marriage could have been my fate. Maybe it's because I still had some family tie to her that I'd long denied, but I said to him, "My sister was the right mate for you. No one else would have done for you what she did."

-You hid your sister so they wouldn't kill her- she sounded tired, even so her statement did not lose validity- Even if it was against the law, you weren't innocent either- -I do not know if it is good that you are so intelligent Nebraska- he snorted walking towards the door- I am an important member of the Council, nothing can tarnish my image, my sister went mad when her husband betrayed her and tried to kill her. I could only lock it up and hide it - he grabbed the edge of the door before closing it- Can you imagine what it feels like to have to murder your own blood-

"How can it be? You... You trusted me and did everything that I told you to do..." "You must be wondering how come I knew your true colour...." Avery turned around and said, "I got to know about Liam being the murderer long ago, the only thing I needed to know was who was the mastermind." "But you and your husband. You two hated each other, I saw... I..." As if she couldn't connect all the incidents, she seemed so puzzled.

Hannah snapped. “You know the funny part of all this is that you’d say you were doing it for me, but it never feels good. It never feels good knowing that I’ll always be everyone else’s second choice when it comes to you.” “Do you know how that sucks? Do you know how difficult it is waking up every day wondering if you’re ever going to be your husband’s first choice? Wondering if you’re just some sort of replacement for a love he lost years ago? Or has he ever moved on from it? And then finding out that the other woman is your sister?!” Hannah asked, her voice breaking.

Two days after Christmas, I stood on a deserted sidewalk and lifted my head to the top of the skyscraper across the street. I swallowed as my gaze caught his penthouse. I couldn't do it. Marry him? It was impossible, except I had to do it. "I'm not scared," I muttered to myself and tightened my grip on my tattered backpack. I had to marry the devil himself to save my sister. That was my last option. I had assumed it would never come to that. I always believed that the police would help me out and rescue my sister. Instead, they mocked me each time I shared my story.