I Married the Murderer's Brother

I died on the night of my wedding to Carlos Fowler, the duke's second son.

He left me to be killed by kidnappers while he saved the woman he truly cared about.

Before I took my last breath, I saw Vincent Fowler, Carlos's crippled older brother, storm in like a madman to avenge me.

Reborn, I stood before the priest and canceled the wedding in front of everyone.

I turned and walked toward Vincent, who sat in his wheelchair in the corner, under the stunned gazes of the crowd. "Vincent, I want to marry you."

Carlos thought I was just trying to get his attention.

But he would soon realize he had lost everything.

...

"I refuse." My firm voice echoed through the solemn church, setting off a shockwave.

The priest's hand, holding the Bible, froze in midair.

The guests erupted into a buzz of whispers, like a swarm of bees.

Carlos, my handsome fiancé, stood there with his smile frozen on his face.

His blue eyes, which I once adored, flashed with shock, then burned with anger.

"Aria, what are you doing?" His voice was low, each word forced through gritted teeth.

I didn't look at him.

My gaze passed over him, over the shocked and amused faces, and settled on the quietest corner of the church.

There, Vincent sat alone in his wheelchair, out of place in this grand wedding.

He was Carlos's older brother, the true heir to the dukedom, crippled in an accident ten years ago, left silent and forgotten by almost everyone.

Except me.

I remembered my final moments from my past life, when the kidnapper's knife pierced my heart. It was Vincent, the man everyone mocked as a cripple, who burst through the door like a raging beast, snapping the kidnapper's neck with his bare hands.

Blood splattered on his pale face as he held my cold body, his wails tearing through the air.

Meanwhile, my "beloved" Carlos was safely elsewhere, holding his precious Isabella Johnson, celebrating her survival.

I lifted the heavy hem of my dress and walked toward Vincent.

The expensive wedding gown dragged across the floor, rustling as if mourning my past life's foolishness.

Every eye followed my steps.

Carlos hurried after me, grabbing my wrist so hard it felt like he'd crush my bones.

"Come back, Aria! Don't humiliate me in front of everyone!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

I yanked my arm free.

"Humiliate?" I turned, meeting his eyes with a coldness he'd never seen before. "Compared to letting me die at the hands of kidnappers for another woman, what's more humiliating?"

Carlos's pupils shrank.

He didn't know why I said that.

He thought I was just being irrational.

"Are you out of your mind?" His face showed a flicker of impatience. "Isabella is just a friend. Stop trying to get my attention with these ridiculous stunts."

I laughed.

In my past life, I believed he would save me.

He never came.

I ignored him and walked straight to Vincent.

He looked up, his deep gray eyes calm, as if this drama had nothing to do with him.

I knelt before him, gazing up. "Vincent, I want to marry you."

My words were clear.

The church fell deathly silent.

Even the guests' breathing seemed to stop.

Vincent looked at me, his long lashes hiding whatever lay in his eyes.

After a long pause, he spoke, his voice as flat as ever. "Fine."

Carlos stared at us in disbelief, his face turning from red to pale to ashen.

"Vincent! You wouldn't dare!" he roared.

The duke, their father, rose from his seat.

His face was grim as he struck his cane hard against the floor. "Enough! Haven't you embarrassed us enough?"

His sharp gaze swept over the three of us. "If Aria has changed her mind, let her have her way."

He turned to the priest. "Continue the ceremony."

The priest stammered, confused. "My lord, the groom is..."

"Vincent." The duke's two words left no room for argument.

Carlos froze.

He probably thought his father would take his side, scold me for my impulsiveness, and force me to go through with the wedding.

He was wrong.

In the duke's eyes, the marriage was about my family's influence. It didn't matter which son I married.

In fact, marrying the rightful heir was even better.

The new wedding happened quickly.

Vincent and I exchanged rings before the priest, and he pressed a cold kiss to my forehead.

The entire time, Carlos stared at me, his eyes stormy enough to swallow me whole.

I knew what he thought.

He believed this was a ploy to make him jealous, to punish him for caring about Isabella, to make him want me more.

He waited for me to regret it, to come crawling back to him.

How pathetic.

After the ceremony, I was led to the bridal chamber.

This room was originally prepared for me and Carlos, but now Vincent was its master.

He wheeled himself in and stopped in the center of the room.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice calm.

"I want Carlos and Isabella to pay for my death in my past life," I said, meeting his gaze.

A flicker passed through his eyes. "Your past life?"

"I was reborn," I said without hiding anything. "The moment I died, I returned to the church on our wedding day."

Vincent went silent.

He looked at me quietly, as if weighing the truth of my words.

"Do you believe me?" I asked.

"I do." His answer came without hesitation.

My heart trembled slightly.

Even I found my story absurd, yet he believed me so easily.

"What you said in the church," he paused, "Carlos let you die for Isabella?"

"Yes."

His hand tightened slowly on the armrest of his wheelchair, his knuckles turning white.

A cold, murderous aura radiated from him, chilling the room.

"I understand," he said.

Just then, a commotion erupted outside the door.

It was Carlos's voice, furious and slurred with drink. "Open the door! Aria, get out here now!"

He pounded on the door, the sound deafening. "You shameless bitch! You think marrying a cripple will make me see you differently? I'm telling you, it won't work! Aria! Listen to me. Come out now, and I'll pretend this never happened!"

I walked to the door.

Vincent watched me, waiting for my response.

I gave him a small smile and pulled the door open.

Carlos charged in like a raging bull but stumbled clumsily when the door opened suddenly.

He reeked of alcohol, his handsome face twisted with anger.

"Finally decided to show yourself?" he said, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Come with me. This farce is over."

He reached to grab me.

I stepped back, avoiding his hand.

"Carlos," I said coldly, "watch your words and your place. I'm your sister-in-law now."

"Sister-in-law?" He laughed as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Him? A useless man who can't even stand?"

He shot a disdainful glance at Vincent in his wheelchair.

Vincent's face remained expressionless, as if the insult wasn't aimed at him.

"Aria, don't be foolish. Everyone in the duchy knows you love me. You're just trying to make me jealous. Fine, I'll admit it. You've succeeded." He softened his tone, trying to charm me with his usual gentleness. "Now, the game's over. Come back with me. I can forgive your recklessness."

I watched his heartfelt act and felt my stomach churn.

That same face had fed me sweet words in my past life.

That same face shed not a single tear after I died.

"Game?" I echoed his word. "Carlos, this isn't a game. The moment I chose to marry Vincent, we were done."

"No way!" he roared, his anger flaring again. "You're mine, Aria! Marrying him won't change that!"

He lunged at me.

I was ready and dodged to the side.

A hand reached out from behind me, firmly grabbing Carlos's wrist.

It was Vincent.

He had moved his wheelchair behind me without me noticing.

Sitting there, he looked up at the taller Carlos, his presence commanding despite his position.

His grip was shockingly strong, and Carlos's face turned red.

"Let... let go!" Carlos struggled, but his boasted strength was nothing against the man he called a cripple.

"Get out." Vincent's voice was soft but final.

He released his grip, and Carlos stumbled back several steps, like discarded trash.

He looked at Vincent, his eyes filled with shock and humiliation.

He probably never imagined his despised, disabled brother could overpower him so easily.

"Fine... just fine!" he gasped, clutching the door. "Vincent, Aria, you'll both regret this!" With that, he fled in disgrace.

The room fell quiet again.

I looked at Vincent. His hand, which had grabbed Carlos, trembled slightly.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly.

"I'm fine." He tucked his hand under the blanket. "It's just been a while since I used that kind of strength."

I knelt in front of him. "Thank you."

He looked at me, my small reflection visible in his deep gray eyes.

"We're married," he said.

I woke the next morning to unfamiliar birdsong.

The bed beside me was empty and neatly made, untouched from the night before.

Had Vincent spent the entire night in his wheelchair?

A warmth stirred in my chest.

I changed and went downstairs, where the duke sat at the head of the long dining table.

Carlos, with dark circles under his eyes, sat grimly to the duke's left.

Vincent sat to the right, his expression calm, as if last night's drama had never happened.

When Carlos saw me, his gaze stabbed like a knife.

I ignored him and took my seat beside Vincent.

"Good morning, Gordon," I greeted the duke.

"Morning." The duke's curt reply acknowledged me as his new daughter-in-law.

The breakfast atmosphere was tense.

The clink of forks and knives sounded unnaturally loud.

Then, a dainty figure appeared at the dining room door.

It was Isabella.

She wore a bright yellow dress, her face perfectly made up, and feigned surprise as she covered her mouth. "Oh my, did I come at a bad time?"

Her eyes lingered on me for a second, gleaming with subtle triumph.

She hurried to Carlos's side, her voice full of concern. "Carlos, you drank so much last night. Is your head still hurting?"

Her sweet, syrupy tone gave me goosebumps.

Carlos's expression softened at the sight of her.

"I'm fine," he said gently.

The scene felt painfully familiar.

In my past life, they had flaunted their bond in front of me without shame.

And I, like a fool, believed Carlos's claim that they were "just friends."

"Aria... oh, I suppose it's Mrs. Fowler now," Isabella said, turning to me with an innocent smile. "I never imagined you'd choose to marry Vincent. But as long as you're happy, that's what matters. Carlos loves you so much. Seeing you happy must make him happy too."

Her words sounded like blessings but were meant to wound.

She was reminding me I had married a cripple while Carlos's heart belonged to her.

She was gloating over her victory.

Carlos, hearing her, put on a pained, helpless look, gazing at me with feigned affection.

What a performance.

I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth slowly.

"Isabella, in what capacity are you meddling in the duke's family affairs?" I asked coolly.

Her smile froze. "I... I'm Carlos's friend. Isn't it normal to care about him?"

"Friend?" I gave a small laugh. "If I recall, your father is just a stable manager for my family. Since when does a servant's daughter get to call herself a friend of the duke's son?"

Isabella's face flushed red.

Her low birth was her deepest insecurity.

She had clawed her way into high society, mimicking the manners of noble ladies, and despised any mention of her origins.

"You!" she sputtered, her eyes welling with tears as she looked to Carlos for rescue.

"Aria, you've gone too far!" Carlos slammed his hand on the table, leaping to her defense. "Who are you to question Isabella's status? Apologize!"

"Apologize?" I raised my eyes to meet his. "For what? For her overstepping her place at the duke's table, meddling with the household?"

"I didn't!" Isabella protested.

"Are you telling me how to view my husband, or telling Carlos how to treat his sister-in-law?" My voice turned icy. "Miss Isabella, this is the duke's mansion, not your backyard. Hasn't your father taught you to watch your tongue?"

A loud crack rang out.

The duke slammed his knife on the table.

"Silence, all of you!" he bellowed. "Bickering first thing in the morning-what a disgrace!"

His cold gaze swept over Isabella. "A servant's daughter-who gave you the nerve to step into the main house's dining room?"

Isabella trembled, her face pale. "My lord, I... I only..."

"Steward!" the duke roared. "Throw her out! She's not to set foot in this mansion again!"

"Yes, my lord." The old steward stepped forward, gesturing for her to leave.

Isabella looked desperately at Carlos.

Carlos's face darkened, but under the duke's stern gaze, he couldn't muster a single word.

In the end, Isabella was escorted out, tears streaming down her face.

The dining room fell silent again.

The duke snorted and left the table.

Carlos glared at me, his eyes burning with rage, as if he wanted to tear me apart.

"Well done, Aria," he spat. "To get back at me, you'd stoop to such low tactics."

I lifted my coffee cup and took a sip. "To deal with low people, you use low tactics."

His chest heaved with anger, and he threw down his napkin before storming off.

The vast dining room was left with just me and Vincent.

"Satisfied?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I paused.

He had backed me up, giving me the chance to handle the situation myself.

"Somewhat," I said, looking away, a bit uneasy.

"Next time you face people like that, don't waste words," Vincent said calmly. "Make them disappear."

His words carried a ruthlessness that didn't match his appearance.

I looked at him and realized this man in the wheelchair might be far stronger than I had ever imagined.