My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The second my best friend buckled into the passenger seat, she was practically vibrating to spill the gossip.
"Okay, don't hate me for asking, but Laurel Gibbs is your cousin, right?"
I kept my eyes on the road but nodded. "Yeah. What's she done now?"
"Girl, after dumping that waste-of-space Jordan, she completely lost it. We're talking full-on meltdown - they had to commit her!"
She leaned in like we were sharing state secrets. Turns out Laurel didn't know about my fake death at first and kept sending vicious texts to provoke me. Plot twist: my phone was with Brian at the time. When he discovered her games, he went nuclear - forwarded everything to Jordan and printed out an itemized list of every gift he'd ever given Laurel, then papered the whole town with it. The scandal trended nationally for a solid week.
I smirked. "Sounds like a soap opera."
"Try a dark comedy!" She cackled, hand over her mouth like she shouldn't be enjoying this so much.
Then her voice dropped to a teasing lilt. "And get this - without you managing Brian's assets? His net worth tanked. People are saying you were his golden goose!"
I rolled my eyes. "That's ridiculous."
But she wasn't finished. Her expression turned dead serious as she leaned closer.
"Brace yourself. Brian tried to marry your corpse." My foot jammed the brakes as my head snapped toward her.
"Excuse me?!"
"Oh you heard me. Dude petitioned to marry your dead body. Certified psycho behavior." She blinked at me, unfazed by my shock.
I sputtered, "Wait - hold up - you're telling me Brian actually tried to..."
"Yup. When you loved him, he was obsessed with Laurel. Now that you're 'dead'? Suddenly he's Romeo wanting to marry Juliet's corpse."
I gaped at her. "Please tell me it didn't actually happen."
She shook her head, grinning.
Thank God - even Brian's parents wouldn't be that deranged. But then she dropped the real bombshell:
"They vetoed it so hard he got disowned. Oh, and he took your last name. Bet you didn't see that coming."
My hands froze on the wheel. "Why would he—"
"Picture this," she interrupted, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Brian tries to turn your engagement party into a posthumous wedding. His parents say 'over our dead bodies.' He says 'bet' and walks out taking your family name. His exact words?" She pitched her voice lower: "'In life, I'm her man. In death, I'll be her ghost!'"
I blinked. The same arrogant Brian I knew would debase himself like that? Part of me wondered if he actually loved me after all.
But the truth was simpler: I didn't love him anymore.
I shrugged, a small smile playing on my lips. "Ancient history."
"Damn right," she agreed. "And you? You're upgrading."
She wasn't wrong.
As we pulled up to my studio, a tall figure with jet-black hair and emerald-green eyes approached.
"Let me get those," he offered, his voice like melted chocolate.
"Thanks," I smiled.
My friend nearly broke my arm yanking me closer. "Who. Is. That."
I grinned. "Take a wild guess."
She swatted me. "Don't you dare hold out on me!"
"That's Alastair. Goes by Ali here. Doctor. Grandma was American."
Her eyes ping-ponged between us. "So you two are...?"
"Not even close," I cut in.
Total fluke meeting him. During my first chaotic week in Dubai - running around getting the studio licensed - I rear-ended his car. Panicked, I babbled in Arabic: "Mafi mushkila?"
Then I noticed those hypnotic green eyes and switched to English: "I mean - are you okay?"
He rubbed his temple, replying in flawless English: "I'll live."
"You speak English?" I'd gasped, relieved.
And that's how our story began.