"I haven't even blamed you for stealing her place, so don't you dare curse her to die." He threw the words over his shoulder without breaking stride. "She was right—you really have become a vicious woman."
A chill sank deep into my bones.
Brandon strode into the cemetery without looking back.
I turned quietly and watched from a distance as he knelt before my mother's tombstone.
That broad back... the same back that had shielded me from crushing steel.
"Mom, I'm getting married. I came to tell you."
His voice drifted on the wind, hollow and resigned.
"It's Nora Thomas. You always said your greatest wish was for me to find someone I truly loved and grow old with them. But I'm going to break that promise."
He paused, head bowed.
"I don't love her."
"She makes scenes. She's stubborn. If I refuse, I'm afraid she'll hurt herself. I know you liked Nora, and I don't hate her... but love isn't something that can be forced."
He stared at the stone as if pleading for understanding.
"When the right person appears, one glance is enough to know. In two days, at the investment summit, I'll go see *her* one last time. And then... that will be the end of it."
Brandon rose and walked out of the cemetery.
I was still standing by the cars.
Waiting.
"Brandon. Take me to the summit."
He froze, his hand on the car door.
"Let me meet this 'sister' of mine. I'll make it clear to her." I held his gaze, my voice steady. "And then, I'll give you to her."
Surprise didn't flicker across his face.
Instead, his expression darkened into a scowl.
"You treat this engagement like a child's game?"
He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing mine.
"You were the one who threw a tantrum insisting on marrying me. Now that the whole world knows I'm marrying you, you want to back out?"
"But—"
"Save your excuses."
He yanked open the car door, shooting me one last frosty glare before sliding into the driver's seat.
"If you really wanted to break it off, you wouldn't have waited until today."
"I..."
He didn't wait for my explanation.
The Maybach roared to life and vanished down the road.
He knew me too well.
Going back on my word wasn't my style.
But that was before I died.
I had never realized his love for that "sister" burned so hot.
*Brandon Mason, you and I are fated to meet, but not destined to be together.*
I had learned that lesson with my life.
I truly wanted to repay him for saving me.
I sent him a text, begging for a chance to fix things for both of us.
He didn't reply.
Only his brother messaged back: *He said there are decades to spend together after the wedding. Cut the nonsense.*
I had no other choice.
Two days later, the Maybach idled at my front gate.
The window rolled down, revealing his impassive profile.
"Get in."
I didn't hesitate.
The summit was a grand affair. The moment Brandon and I stepped into the hall, we commanded every eye in the room.
A marriage alliance between the two most powerful families in the circle—the news had already spread like wildfire.
Brandon accepted the congratulations stiffly.
His smile was bitter, yet he never left my side.
He was torn.
On one side, blazing loyalty to his beloved. On the other, a rigid sense of duty to his status.
Everyone knew he was my fiancé. He wouldn't abandon me under the public eye to chase another woman.
In my past life, I had hated that sense of responsibility. It gave me false hope. It made me think he might still love me.
And when he died saving me to "fulfill" that duty... the grief had been visceral. Like vomiting blood.
"Brandon, you don't need to babysit me," I whispered. "Go see whoever you want to see."
His gaze was fixed on a distant point across the room.
"I'm going to the restroom."
With that abrupt excuse, he walked away.
But he didn't go to the restroom.
I watched him head in the exact direction he'd been staring.
