My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin.
Brian's voice shattered the air behind us, raw and desperate.
"Angela, you can't leave me! Do you have any idea what I went through? For months I clung to that corpse, completely numb. If it hadn't started rotting, if the face hadn't fallen off... I'd still believe you were dead!"
Tears carved paths down his cheeks, but his lips stretched into a disturbing smile of relief.
"Thank God... I'm so glad you're alive. When I heard your friend bought tickets to Dubai, I knew you'd be here. You're hiding because you're mad at me, aren't you? I was right! But why are you pretending not to know me?"
His voice broke as confusion and pain flooded his eyes, tears now flowing uncontrollably.
I'd never seen him cry before. Once, that might have shattered me. Now? Nothing. No pity. No anger. Just icy detachment.
Was this another performance? A final, desperate act to play the devoted lover?
I stood motionless, staring through him like he was a stranger.
Alastair leaned in, his warm breath brushing my ear. "It's sweltering out here. Go inside. I'll handle this."
Before I could respond, he stepped between us. "You've mistaken her for someone else. Her name's Irene, not Angela."
Brian bulldozed past him, voice rising hysterically. "I'm sorry, Angela! I've changed! Laurel's gone—completely out of the picture. Please, just give me another chance!"
Alastair didn't budge. "I said, her name is Irene."
"No! She's my Angela!" Brian wailed, clinging to his delusion.
I covered my ears and bolted inside without looking back.
My best friend jumped up when she saw me. "I heard shouting—what's happening?"
"Brian's here," I said flatly.
Her eyes widened. "How? Oh God, this is bad. That man's insane—he was ready to marry your corpse! If he knows you're alive..."
I grabbed her hand. "We're switching clothes. I'll slip out back and hide until tomorrow. If he asks, play dumb."
She nodded instantly. Minutes later, dressed in her clothes, I disappeared through the back door.
Brian tracking me to Dubai meant only one thing—I needed to leave. Immediately.
At the airport, my suitcase jammed in the security gate. As frustrated travelers grumbled behind me, a familiar hand effortlessly lifted my bag.
I looked up sharply. "Alastair? What are you doing here?"
He offered a small smile. "Medical conference in Harbor City. They invited me to speak. Figured we'd travel together."
I didn't question the coincidence.
When we landed stateside, still directionless, I followed Alastair's lead. Surprisingly, his itinerary included a psychiatric hospital visit.
As we entered with other scholars, the director approached. "Excuse me, miss—may I borrow Dr. Britton?"
"Of course," I smiled politely.
Alastair turned with that gentle smile. "I'll be back soon."
I chuckled, covering my mouth. "I'll be right here!"
He kept glancing back as the director practically dragged him away.
Needing air, I wandered into the garden—and froze.
Laurel stood there, twirling a stick, her hollow gaze locking onto me. "Angie?" Her lips curled into an eerie smile. "You're not dead?"
Ice shot down my spine. I forced a tight smile, stepping back.
"Guess not."
"Angela, you can't leave me! Do you have any idea what I went through? For months I clung to that corpse, completely numb. If it hadn't started rotting, if the face hadn't fallen off... I'd still believe you were dead!"
Tears carved paths down his cheeks, but his lips stretched into a disturbing smile of relief.
"Thank God... I'm so glad you're alive. When I heard your friend bought tickets to Dubai, I knew you'd be here. You're hiding because you're mad at me, aren't you? I was right! But why are you pretending not to know me?"
His voice broke as confusion and pain flooded his eyes, tears now flowing uncontrollably.
I'd never seen him cry before. Once, that might have shattered me. Now? Nothing. No pity. No anger. Just icy detachment.
Was this another performance? A final, desperate act to play the devoted lover?
I stood motionless, staring through him like he was a stranger.
Alastair leaned in, his warm breath brushing my ear. "It's sweltering out here. Go inside. I'll handle this."
Before I could respond, he stepped between us. "You've mistaken her for someone else. Her name's Irene, not Angela."
Brian bulldozed past him, voice rising hysterically. "I'm sorry, Angela! I've changed! Laurel's gone—completely out of the picture. Please, just give me another chance!"
Alastair didn't budge. "I said, her name is Irene."
"No! She's my Angela!" Brian wailed, clinging to his delusion.
I covered my ears and bolted inside without looking back.
My best friend jumped up when she saw me. "I heard shouting—what's happening?"
"Brian's here," I said flatly.
Her eyes widened. "How? Oh God, this is bad. That man's insane—he was ready to marry your corpse! If he knows you're alive..."
I grabbed her hand. "We're switching clothes. I'll slip out back and hide until tomorrow. If he asks, play dumb."
She nodded instantly. Minutes later, dressed in her clothes, I disappeared through the back door.
Brian tracking me to Dubai meant only one thing—I needed to leave. Immediately.
At the airport, my suitcase jammed in the security gate. As frustrated travelers grumbled behind me, a familiar hand effortlessly lifted my bag.
I looked up sharply. "Alastair? What are you doing here?"
He offered a small smile. "Medical conference in Harbor City. They invited me to speak. Figured we'd travel together."
I didn't question the coincidence.
When we landed stateside, still directionless, I followed Alastair's lead. Surprisingly, his itinerary included a psychiatric hospital visit.
As we entered with other scholars, the director approached. "Excuse me, miss—may I borrow Dr. Britton?"
"Of course," I smiled politely.
Alastair turned with that gentle smile. "I'll be back soon."
I chuckled, covering my mouth. "I'll be right here!"
He kept glancing back as the director practically dragged him away.
Needing air, I wandered into the garden—and froze.
Laurel stood there, twirling a stick, her hollow gaze locking onto me. "Angie?" Her lips curled into an eerie smile. "You're not dead?"
Ice shot down my spine. I forced a tight smile, stepping back.
"Guess not."
End of My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to My Fiancé’s Secret Love is My Cousin book page.