Just as Christopher and Victoria disappeared around the corner, my stepbrother, Daniel Brooks, stormed into the hospital.
He had driven through the night from Houston, just missing a run-in with Christopher.
Dan gripped my cold hand. When he reached out to smooth my messy hair, his fingers brushed against my icy forehead, and the tears he’d been holding back finally broke free.
His voice trembled with a grief so raw it was painful to watch. “You silly fool. If you had just chosen me, things would have been so different. At least you wouldn't have died all alone!”
Seeing his weary, heartbroken face made my own nose sting. The moment I married Christopher, Dan had moved away, claiming there were better job opportunities in Houston.
He gave two reasons. First, he said a controlling man like Christopher would never tolerate him being around. Second, he said he had to leave for my own good, to avoid causing me any trouble.
I was an orphan. At sixteen, my stepmom married Dan’s dad, and we became a family.
At first, my new stepbrother and I were a bit awkward, but he grew to become the warmest, kindest person in my life.
I practically incinerated my relationship with my family to marry Christopher.
The reason was simple—they wanted me to marry Dan, a man they knew would treat me right. But I was stupidly, blindly in love.
Dan was the one who pushed the gurney, with its white-shrouded cargo, toward the morgue.
As he left, Christopher was just getting out of the elevator, holding a paper bag from Torchy’s Tacos.Victoria had mentioned a craving, so of course, he had rushed out to get it for her.
I’d asked him to do something similar once. I had a raging fever and all I wanted was some hot soup from the corner store downstairs. He’d complained it was too much trouble and told me to order delivery.
Dan and Christopher met head-on in the hallway. Dan, pushing my body. Their eyes locked, and a flicker of recognition passed between them.
“Get out of my way,” Dan said, his voice utterly devoid of warmth. I couldn't blame him. Who has time for pleasantries with the man who indirectly murdered your… well, me.
A complex expression crossed Christopher’s face. He stepped aside, probably out of some basic respect for the dead. But as Dan pushed the gurney past him, his gaze fell on the shape under the white sheet.
“Wait!” he called out, as if a sudden, awful thought had gripped him.
“Who… Who is that?”
My soul trembled. Part of me was terrified for Dan to tell him the truth, but another, darker part of me was morbidly curious to see his reaction.
Dan was silent for a long moment before he spoke three cold, clear words.
“My wife.”
I froze. So did Christopher. He knew my family situation and, more importantly, he knew about the feelings Dan had kept buried for me.
“When did you get married?” Christopher blurted out, then looked surprised at his own question.
Dan let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Mitchell.”
Christopher’s face flushed with anger, and he shot back with a sneer.
“You always claimed to love Elena so much. I guess your love wasn’t all that special after all.”
Dan stopped walking. He turned, his eyes like daggers.
“Compared to you, I suppose I fall short,” he said, his voice dripping with a hatred so thick I’m surprised Christopher didn’t choke on it. “After all, the things you did to her were far worse than anything I could imagine.”
I floated behind Dan, taking one last look at Christopher. That all-consuming love I once felt for him? I think it was finally starting to vanish.
