For five years, I was married to my stepbrother. Then, he killed himself. The only thing he left me was half a piece of paper with three words written on it: I hate you. And he should have. I’d repaid his family’s kindness by drugging him, climbing into his bed, and forcing him to break up with the woman he loved. I knew he didn't love me, but I couldn't let him go. I suffocated him until he chose death. And then, I died in a car crash on the way to his funeral. I thought that was it. Then I woke up, back on the night I drugged him. 1. Ethan was dead. I got the news while I was at a cafe, finalizing the divorce papers with my lawyer. “He can have the money. He can have the house, all of it.” My lawyer looked stunned. “Ms. Miller, you’re planning on walking away with nothing?” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “From what I understand, Mr. Thorne was the one who initiated the separation. Legally, you are the aggrieved party…” I held up a hand. “Just write it up that way, please.” It was all his, anyway. I’d already poisoned his life for years; I wasn't going to steal his assets, too. “Well,” the lawyer said, “I’ve handled hundreds of divorces, and you are by far the most generous client I’ve ever had.” I gave him a bitter smile. If he knew what I’d done, "generous" isn't the word he’d use. "Crazy" was the one Ethan's friends preferred. The psycho who’d trapped her own stepbrother. “If you’ll just review this and sign here…” My hand was shaking. I'd just written the first letter of my name when my phone buzzed. “Is this Chloe Miller? This is City General Hospital. Your husband, Ethan Thorne, has been admitted…” The pen clattered to the floor. I hadn't seen him in six months. Not since he’d finally asked for a divorce. “Isabella’s back,” he’d said, looking out the window. “After all this time, I never forgot her.” He looked away. “Name your terms, Chloe. I’ll give you anything. Just sign the papers.” I’d lost it. I smashed everything in the living room, screaming at him. “A divorce? Don't even think about it, Ethan! The only way you’re leaving me is in a body bag!” He didn't say anything. He just silently started cleaning up the broken glass, the way he always did. I thought I’d won. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. His clothes, his pictures, his toothbrush. Like he’d never existed. And now, he’d made my words come true. I was finally a widow. 2. By the time I got to the funeral home, he was already an urn of ashes. The moment she saw me, his grandmother slapped me across the face. “You evil girl,” she sobbed. “How dare you show your face here?” I just stared at his black-and-white photo. His grandmother shoved me out. I tried to push back in, and she threw a folded piece of paper at my chest. “Read it! This is all he left! This is what he thought of you!” I picked it up. And I saw the three words in his familiar, sharp handwriting. I hate you. 3. I waited outside the funeral home all night. When his family left in the morning, I got in my car and followed them. It was raining, and the winding canyon road was slick. Just let me see him buried, I prayed. Just let me get through this, and I’ll do anything. As if in answer, a boulder, loosened by the rain, broke free from the hillside. It came crashing down right on top of my car. The last thing I saw was that half-sheet of paper, fluttering onto my lap. I hate you. He really didn't want me at his funeral. As the world went dark, I made one last promise. “Ethan. If there’s a next time, I swear, I’ll leave you alone.” 4. “Chloe, are you insane?” “I’m your brother! And you drugged me?” The voice was rough, familiar, and... alive. “I’m sorry,” I whispered automatically. The words were barely out of my mouth when a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against a hot, tense body. “A little late for sorry, isn't it?” I snapped my eyes open. Ethan. He was alive. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils blown wide. “Ethan?” I scrambled away from him, my hand flying to my own face. Slap. The stinging pain proved it was real. I burst into tears, a relief so profound it buckled my knees. “I’m not mad at you. Why did you hit yourself?” he slurred, pulling me back. The guilt was suffocating. This was just like last time. Even drugged and confused, his first instinct was to worry about me. Last time, I’d taken advantage of that. He’d woken up, full of shame, and taken all the blame. His fiancée, Isabella, broke it off. His grandmother was furious. And he never once told them what I’d done. I tore myself out of his arms. “Ethan, I’m so sorry! I... I was just testing it! I didn't know if it worked! I’ll call 911!” I fumbled for my phone, but he grabbed my wrist. His voice was a low growl. “You... tested it on me?” His eyes narrowed. “Who were you planning to use it on?” It was a stupid lie, but it was an exit. And maybe, if he thought I loved someone else, it would be the clean break we both needed. I forced a blush. “Lucas. From the architecture department. I’ve had a crush on him for months.” His grip on my wrist tightened until it hurt. “You’d drug a man, Chloe?” “He’s the love of my life,” I whispered, staring at the floor, terrified he’d see the lie in my eyes. “I’d do anything for him.” He let me go. “You’re unbelievable. You’d better hope it’s worth it.” He threw me out of his hotel room and slammed the door. “Ethan, wait!” I knocked. “It’s a strong dose! Do you want me to call an ambulance?” No answer. I was about to call security when the elevator dinged. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” Isabella. She held up a small pharmacy bag and smiled. “Here to see Ethan. I’m guessing you are too?” The door behind me opened. Ethan was standing there in a bathrobe, his hair wet. He looked exhausted. He frowned when he saw me. “Why are you still here?” He called her. The realization was a punch to the gut. Of course he did. He loved her. This was his chance. This was good. This was what I wanted. “I... I was just leaving. You two... have a good night.” I ran.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385731", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel