Chapter 3
By the time I got home, it was already pitch black outside.
At the same time, a car drove into the villa.
The car door opened, and a polished leather shoe stepped out.
Following the long legs upward, the man's tall frame was wrapped neatly in a fitted suit.
His hair was slicked back without a single strand out of place, his face calm and cold.
Our eyes met for an instant before he quickly looked away.
He offered the smallest nod. That was his version of a greeting.
Brandon Sharp was my brother. He wasn't someone I was close to. We barely exchanged more than a few words now and then.
He was always destined to be the heir of the Sharp family, and his calendar was booked solid every single day. He barely spent time with me.
After several years abroad, we were practically strangers.
He couldn't even be bothered to show up for my engagement party today.
I parted my lips, instinctively wanting to say hi. But seeing how distant Brandon was, the greeting just died in my throat.
Then I remembered. In the original story, when Brandon stood before my corpse, his expression never changed, but his body trembled uncontrollably.
In the end, he was the only one who gave me a proper funeral, the only one who avenged me.
I forced a bright smile.
"Hey, Brandon, just got off work? Long day, huh?" I tried to sound casual.
"Yeah." Brandon nodded, didn't even bother to look at me. He walked right past me.
I took a deep breath and walked after him.
"Even for your sister's big day, you couldn't spare a minute?" I called after him.
Brandon paused for a moment.
He lifted his eyelids slightly, looking at me.
"Oh, sorry. I'll remember next time," he said.
Next time? How many engagement parties did he think I would have? Would he also forget my wedding and just say, "I'll remember next time?"
I fell silent, hanging my head a little, and followed Brandon quietly.
We entered the house one after another.
Mom spotted Brandon in the living room and just breezed right past me to greet him.
"Brandon, you're back! I had the maid make some soup. Come have a bowl. Don't wear yourself out," Mom said.
Her smile was gentle and loving.
That kind of treatment was reserved for Brandon alone.
With me, her face was always stern, asking about my piano lessons.
She always wanted me to be graceful, polished, and never slip up on my manners, just so I could be "worthy" of Liam.
Brandon sighed softly. "Leave it for later. I'm not in the mood."
"Alright, I'll save it for you for later," Mom said, still smiling.
Mom hurried over, reaching out to take Brandon's coat.
But Brandon just turned and handed it straight to the maid.
Without missing a beat, I headed straight upstairs.
Out of nowhere, Brandon spoke up behind me. "So, how did the engagement party go?"
He added, "Are you actually happy with him? Is he the one you wanted?"
Those two questions alone nearly matched the number of sentences he spoke to me in a week.
It seemed like being proactive did work a little.
I turned back, shaking my head.
I said, "Not well. He brought another woman with him."
Brandon's brows knit together in a frown.
He went quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling to come up with anything comforting to say.
He could talk endlessly with business clients, yet with his own sister, he couldn't manage a single comforting word.
Disappointed, I turned away and continued upstairs.
I thought maybe he wasn't like Mom and Dad, that he might actually care about me for once.
Clearly, I was wrong.
In the story, my death only made him feel a faint sense of guilt, enough to drive him to avenge me.
Normally, he always managed to act like I wasn't even there.
This kind of so-called compensation didn't mean a damn thing.
When someone was dead, nothing a person did afterward mattered.
As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom after my shower, I heard someone knocking on my door.
Brandon was out in the hallway, staring at me with my hair totally soaked.
"Why haven't you blow-dried it?" he asked.
After a beat, he added, "You'll catch a cold."
I kept toweling my hair, not really bothered.
"I literally just got out of the shower," I replied.
"Then go dry it," he said simply. To my confusion, he turned back to his room.
When I was done drying my hair, he came back again.
He'd switched into a laid-back outfit.
"Mind if I come in and talk for a bit?" Brandon asked.
I stepped aside. "Of course not."
Brandon walked in, scanning the room briefly before sitting down carefully on the soft, furry sofa.
It was his first time entering my bedroom. He looked oddly restrained.
I slammed the door shut, and he sprang to his feet abruptly.
He walked over and nudged the door open just a crack.
I gave him a subtle raised eyebrow.
I knew he was just being cautious, but wasn't that a bit too proper?
He got straight to the point, skipping all pleasantries. "About Liam, what are your thoughts?"
"What if I said I didn't want to marry him?" I said.
Brandon's gaze locked onto mine, his eyes steady and sharp, like an interviewer assessing a candidate.
"Have you really thought this through?" he asked.
"Brandon, if he could totally disrespect me right at my own engagement party, I don't even want to think about what's waiting for me if I marry him," I said.
"For all I know, he'll start resenting me for 'stealing' the position of his wife. If I marry him, I'll only be asking for misery," I added bitterly.
Brandon went silent for a second.
Then, he said, "I remember you used to like him."
"Really? Was I?" I tried to remember.
Then it hit me. Back when I was a clueless kid, Liam's ridiculously good looks totally floored me. I'd said I wanted to marry him the first time we met.
Back then, I was super naive. I used to get hung up on looks, but now I want way more than just that.
Loyalty and respect were the bare minimum for me.
And Liam? He blew it on both fronts.
"I was just a kid, Brandon. That was kiddie nonsense. I didn't even have a clue what I wanted back then," I said.
"But now, I seriously don't like Liam at all," I added.
If anything, I might even hate him a little.
"I see," Brandon said, nodding slightly.
The corner of his lips lifted in a faint smile.
He stood and patted my head.
I'd never seen this side of him before.
In public, he was always the composed, untouchable CEO.
Even with our parents, he kept up that cold, controlled facade.
I blinked, frozen in place.
As he turned to leave, I grabbed his sleeve.
"Brandon, will you help me out?" I asked.
Brandon looked straight at me, without a hint of hesitation.
"Of course I will," he replied.
I grinned. "With you backing me up, I can finally relax. Actually… I'm a little short on money lately. Could you maybe throw some support to your sister?"
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
He'd expected me to ask him to help break off the engagement.
But nope. I just needed some money.
While studying abroad, my parents had cut off my allowance to force me home.
My tuition and living expenses were covered by the pocket money Brandon secretly sent me.
Without my own money, I'd just be at everyone else's mercy.
This ridiculous marriage, I was determined to end it.
But if I refused to marry Liam, my parents would just force me into another arranged match.
I needed to prepare my escape route.
Brandon didn't hesitate. He took out a card.
"There's 1.5 million dollars on this card. If you need more, just say the word," Brandon said.
"That's more than enough. Thanks, Brandon!" I beamed.
He nodded, his face returning to calm neutrality.
After tonight, I realized Brandon was all business on the outside, but he was a real softy at heart.
He'd never bother with comforting words, but he'd always step up when it actually mattered.
That realization made me feel a little guilty.
As he was about to leave, I searched for something else to say.
I wracked my brains, but the only thing that popped into my head was a single question.
"Brandon, aren't you even a little curious what I want to do with this money?" I asked.
Brandon just rolled with it. "So, what are you planning to use it for?"
I replied, "I… just feel uneasy without any money on hand."
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense."
I said, "Maybe I'll invest in some projects, or even start my own business. What do you think?"
Brandon just gave me a steady look. "If you ever need advice, just come to me."
Brandon's reply was so robotic that it left me totally speechless for a second.
I honestly couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Alright. Thanks, Brandon," I said.
I waved, watching him leave until he disappeared down the hall.
Honestly, I suspected Brandon might be my phone's customer service bot come to life.
When we were kids, Brandon and I got along great. We would never run out of silly things to say.
He looked after me, brought me snacks and toys, and told me bedtime stories until I fell asleep.
When did that start to change?
Maybe it was that one time I joked that I wanted to marry him.
I was only six or seven, far too young to understand what marriage meant.
But the look on Mom's face changed.
Her face turned absolutely thunderous, so fierce that I burst into tears.
After that, they never let me be alone with Brandon again.
Later, I met Liam.
Back then, I was a teenager. I was naïve, romantic, and shallow.
He was incredibly handsome, enough to have me totally ignore whatever was actually beneath the surface.
I'd pointed him out to my parents and said, "If we're going to arrange a marriage, can it be with that handsome guy?"
Liam didn't say no.
And just like that, we were officially engaged.