The Uncle I choose in my second life

I stepped into the dining room and stared at the untouched plates on the table. The food had gone cold hours ago, congealed and lifeless under the dim chandelier light.

Five hours. I'd been waiting for five hours.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight as I sank into one of the chairs, my carefully applied makeup feeling heavy on my face. I'd tried so hard tonight—wore the dress he once said he liked, cooked his favorite meal, even lit candles that had long since burned down to stubs.

I wanted to fix whatever had broken between us.

Six months. We'd been married for barely six months, and Colton had become a stranger. The warmth in his eyes from our dating days had vanished the moment he slipped that ring on my finger at the altar. Now he avoided my cooking, came home when I was already asleep, and our bedroom might as well have had a wall down the middle for how untouchable he'd become.

What had I done wrong?

Knock! Knock!

My heart leaped. I rushed to the hallway mirror, smoothing down my dress with trembling hands. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight he'd finally look at me the way he used to—or at least, the way I'd convinced myself he once did.

I took a breath and hurried to the door.

Knock! Knock!

"Coming!" I called out, forcing brightness into my voice.

I swung the door open with a smile that died instantly.

Two men in ski masks stood on my doorstep. Before I could scream, they shoved past me, their hands rough as they grabbed my arms.

"No! Get out!" I screamed, struggling against their grip.

One of them tried to tear at my dress. Panic flooded my system, sharp and cold. I wouldn't let this happen. I couldn't. I drove my knee up hard, connecting with one attacker's groin. He howled and stumbled back.

The victory lasted a second.

The other man's hand cracked across my face with such force that my vision exploded into stars. Then they were both on me, fists and feet raining down until the pain became too much, until the darkness swallowed everything

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Pain woke me.

It throbbed through every inch of my body—my ribs, my face, my arms. I tried to move but couldn't. My wrists were bound tightly to a chair, the rope cutting into my skin.

Where was I?

The room was unfamiliar, dimly lit and smelling of mildew. I blinked, trying to clear my blurred vision, trying to piece together how I'd gotten from my doorstep to... here.

Then I heard voices. Familiar voices.

I forced my head up, every muscle screaming in protest.

What I saw made me wish I'd stayed unconscious.

Colton sat on a leather sofa directly in front of me, and Kylie—my half-sister—was draped across his lap, her fingers tangled in his hair as they kissed.

The sound that escaped my throat was barely human.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The words ripped out of me, hoarse and broken.

Kylie pulled back slowly, deliberately, a smile playing on her lips as she turned to face me. "Isn't it obvious? I'm getting intimate with your husband."

The casual cruelty in her voice was like another blow. I looked at Colton, waiting for him to deny it, to push her away, to be the man I'd married.

He just stared at me with cold, empty eyes.

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Colton, why are you doing this? I gave you everything. I loved you—"

Kylie's laughter cut through the air, sharp and mocking.

"Colton, you're my husband!" Rage surged through me, giving me strength I didn't know I had left. I pulled against the ropes until my wrists burned.

"I'm sick of you, you worthless bitch." Colton's voice was flat, emotionless. He looked at me like I was nothing. "Did you really think I married you for love?"

Each word was a knife.

"I only proposed to please my grandmother. Once you're gone, I can finally be with Kylie—with someone who actually matters." He pulled my sister closer and kissed her again, slow and deliberate, making sure I saw every second of it.

The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

Lilian Asher. His grandmother. The woman I'd saved from drowning at the beach two years ago, who'd been so grateful she'd treated me like family ever since. Colton had used her affection for me, had used me, all to secure his place in her heart.

And I'd been so blind. So desperate to believe his love was real that I'd ignored every warning sign—the way his smiles never reached his eyes, how his touches always felt rehearsed, the convenient timing of his proposal right after his grandmother mentioned updating her will.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and bitter.

"Kylie, you're my sister," I said, my voice shaking. "My own blood. We grew up together. You've tried to take everything from me since we were children, but this? You want my husband too?"

She stood and crossed the room with predatory grace, gripping my chin hard enough to bruise. Her face was so close I could see the triumph dancing in her eyes.

"I'll take everything from you," she whispered. "Your love, your life, everything. I want all of Daddy's attention on me, where it belongs. I'm his real daughter, after all."

I met her gaze without flinching. "You're a coward. Afraid to build your own life, so you steal mine instead. You and your mother—both of you are nothing but home wreckers."

Her mother had destroyed my family, seduced my father and broken my mother's heart until there was nothing left but grief. Mom had withered away, dying of a broken heart before I'd even turned eighteen. And now Kylie was following the same twisted path.

Kylie's hand closed around my throat, squeezing. "Shut up. Shut up!"

I couldn't breathe. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. With the last of my strength, I kicked out hard, catching her in the stomach.

She stumbled back, gasping, then her hand flew across my face.

The slap echoed in the room.