He Denied My Brother's Last Journey
/1/101708/coverbig.jpg?v=20251209142102&imageMogr2/format/webp)
to loan me fifty thousand dollars
his assistant wearing my s
decided to marry my ch
was Callen House' s
his "Relationship Protocols" wer
tragically overseas, Ca
application, which his assist
ning in grief, J
thout hesitation, proving what
hings, only to find Daniella there, sp
me out like
she had been intercepting my bonuse
n? He def
y and threatened to rui
dn't ju
the company group chat with a capt
ied. And it' s not
pte
sulate was a blur of medical terms and repatriation costs, a sum so astronomical it felt like another cruel joke from fate. Fift
aniella Fischer, his executive assistant, my voice raw wit
ttle edge. "Ms. Bryan, you know Mr. House's 'Relationship Prot
e word tasting like ash. "My brother
ely unfazed, "but the procedure is clear. You can submit an emp
, three days later. A sterile email, no explanation. Just a cold, hard 'no.' It was like being
ng world. He fronted the money himself, a sum I knew was significant even for his growing logistics company. He handled everything-the pap
ng leaves on the cemetery grounds. The scent of damp earth and wilting fl
s eyes, usually so bright, were filled with a raw tenderness that made
t, a stark contrast to the hollow ec
fore they tumbled free. It wasn't a question. It was a desper
their depths. He looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over my tear-streaked face, my
k with concern, "you don't have to do
out the pain. This is about... everything. About what matters. Please, marry me." My voice cr
ked tirelessly as an undervalued marketing specialist in his company, he barely acknowledged my existence outside the four walls of his penthouse. My broth
maximum efficiency. He wouldn't waste a second on an employee's dying brother, let alone a mere girlfriend's personal crisis. Our eight years together felt like
My heart felt like a hollow drum, beating a slow, mournful rhythm. I had offered him my l
h the screen. I typed quickly, fiercely, each
t's over.
hed the screen, waiting.
Daniella's name flas
ge at his earliest convenience. Please be advised that all communication regarding pe
scheduled our "dates," picked out my "gifts," and even sent me pre-written anniversary texts on Callen's behalf. I had tried to fight it once, years ago, begging Callen for just one spontaneous moment, one unscripted conversation
Callen's success, which I foolishly believed was our shared future. But she was more than efficient; she was a predator, meticulously
lieving it was the price of love. I'd been loyal, dedicated, and financially independent, but my suppressed wages, a myster
nd delegated convenience that he couldn't even spare a thought for my dead brother. He
r. He deserves her." The words were for myself, for the ghost
gedy was about to unfold. I clutched Jaren's hand, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold em
dience. My chest tightened, a crushing weight pressing down on my lungs. Daniella's message, cold and im
ith hot, angry tears. It wasn't just grief for Liam anymore. It was rage, humiliation, and a sickening sense of betrayal. The realization
ees b