Novel & Cerita Marrying My Sister's Murderer

What's more, when he knows I'm his ex-girlfriend and the woman he's been playing with last morning is his fiancée's sister. How could he dare ... He raised his glass, his eyes catching mine. His curved lips gave a gesture I knew all too well—arrogance that provoked anger. I snorted, looking away. Why did he have to be my sister's fiancé? Why did he have to come back? And why would I foolishly offer my body to him? Every memory I had tried to bury deep came rushing back. The wounds he'd left behind bled again. But the one who made me most uneasy was Mellan—not because of their relationship, but because I knew precisely what Aaric could do to her.

He found something funny in my words because his lips curled into a wide devilish smile as he observed me. “We are two peas in a pod aren’t we, Leah. I married the daughter of the man who murdered my father. And as for you—you married your father’s very own murderer. Isn’t that ironic?” He smiled cruelly. Terror seized me at his words, and I felt my skin crawl realizing how little I knew of this man before me. The same man I called—my husband. His smile curled into something sinister, something twisted as he gritted. “I broke every rule and every vow for you, Leah.

"Y'know, when I killed her, she had four men on a hotel bed! It was just impressive!" "Shut up!" Zac bellowed in a frenzy and charged toward Marit like a bull. Glen quickly tried to stop him. "Calm down, Zac—" That was when Marit deftly sprang from the floor and charged at Zac in turn. "Wait!" Frank tried to stop her, but it was already too late. "Ahahaha…" Marit was laughing maniacally before shouting, "Do you remember the defenseless girl you murdered three years ago at the South Sea?! That was my sister!!!"

"You must be joking." A minutes ago she had caught her fiancé in bed with her sister. Her heart still felt like shards of glass.. Now this stranger was asking her to marry him. Tonight had officially lost its mind. She turned away. She brushed the rain from her face. "I'm not in the mood for jokes " she muttered. "I'm not joking " he said. The quiet authority in his voice made her pause. She turned back. "Then you're insane. You don't even know me."

she says and I turn around to look at her, wanting to know more. "What happened to his sister?" I ask when she doesn't continue. " time flies by but it has to be six years by now. His sister was kidnapped and they say she was raped. He became furious and haunted her kidnapper down before torturing him for weeks until he ended his life. They say he was a madman when it came to the torture. No one knows what happened to the sister after. Since that event the Maffia men have strict laws, no woman or child can ever be harmed." she says.

I waited. "I have been thinking about what it means," she said, "to have had you here." She said it carefully, with the specific, unhurried attention she gave to things that required the full weight of the words rather than the quick, bright delivery she gave to most things. "Not for the pack or the territory or any of the external things. For me." She paused. "You came here and the pack had a silver wolf. Ethan had a mate. I had." She stopped. Looked at the window. "I had a sister," she said. "The kind you chose rather than the kind that arrives. And I want you to know that before tomorrow, while it is just us standing at this window, because tomorrow there will be the ceremony and the pack

A small, humorless smirk touched his lips. “You think it’s that simple?” My chest tightened. “It has to be,” I replied quickly. “There’s no other way.” “There’s always another way.” His tone was calm. Too calm. Like he had already thought about it. Like he had already decided. I shook my head. “No. Not this time.” I took a step back, putting more space between us. Between me and the problem. Between me and him. “You’re engaged to my sister, you would be married to her in less than a month” I continued, my voice steadier now, even though my heart was anything but steady. “Whatever happened that night shouldn’t have happened. It can’t happen again.”

Out of all the men in the world, the one I had hooked up with twelve hours ago was sitting across the table from me, sipping my father’s wine while discussing his engagement to my sister. Yes, My Sister! My chest tightened, and I felt my stomach drop. The fork in my hand trembled. I stole a quick glance at them. His fingers were entwined with hers, a half-smile resting on his lips. The same fingers that had left marks around my neck. The same lips that had swept across my whole body.

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.”