Your Husband Not Your Brother-in-law

Prologue

When Anne was eighteen, she had a strange dream. In the midst of its ups and downs, she couldn't make out the other person's face. But when she woke up, she found herself clutching a man's hand tightly.

"Brother Arthur?"

Twenty-three-year-old Arthur slowly pried her tightly clasped hands away, his face devoid of expression.

"Next time you take an afternoon nap, lock your door."

Five Years Later – The Moore Family Banquet

Downstairs, the banquet was in full swing.

Upstairs, in the attic-

Anne lay lazily on the pillow, watching the man in front of her button his shirt, fasten his cufflinks, and put on his watch. Every movement was as precise and meticulous as a carefully crafted masterpiece-detailed and methodical.

At this moment, his refined and elegant appearance was completely different from what he had been just now.

"Not leaving?" Arthur turned to ask her.

"I can't," Anne pointed to the crumpled evening gown on the floor. "The zipper broke."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "When you texted me earlier, why didn't you think to bring a spare dress?"

Anne feigned ignorance. "I only texted to say there was still plenty of time before the banquet started and asked if you wanted to come up and rest."

She chuckled at her own words.

They had been sleeping together for two years. Most of the time, Arthur was a good lover-almost always indulging her whims and willing to play along with her impulsive ideas.

Like today's "quick fix"-not a frequent occurrence, but it happened from time to time.

Today, he had clearly underestimated the time. The banquet had already begun ten minutes ago, and as one of the main figures, his absence had been noticed. His secretary called, inquiring about his whereabouts.

Arthur answered in a deep voice, "On my way."

Putting away his phone, he turned to her. "I'll have someone send up a dress for you."

"Okay."

He was a cautious man, leaving marks on her body only in hidden places. Every inch of exposed skin remained flawless.

Just like the assistant he sent to deliver her dress-Donne, who efficiently cleaned up every trace from the attic, from the bedsheets to the trash bin, handling such post-encounter scenes with practiced ease, leaving no evidence behind.

After all, there was a fundamental difference between "stealing" and "doing it openly."

As for her-after the fleeting ecstasy, she was often left with a profound emptiness.

Loving someone meant relying on those fleeting moments of warmth and dopamine to console oneself through countless lonely nights.

She composed herself and returned to the banquet hall.

The hall was filled with members of the Moore family. As one of Chicago's most prominent aristocratic families, the Moores had an extensive network of relatives, deeply intertwined interests, and layers of intrigue. Calling it a family banquet was a stretch-it was more like a gathering of wily foxes, each with their own agenda.

Anne had been fostered in the Moore family since childhood, which granted her the privilege of attending these banquets. However, as the only outsider present, she never held much presence. No one noticed she had arrived late, nor did anyone notice she had changed into a different dress.

From a distance, she spotted Arthur chatting casually with his uncles. Though his posture appeared relaxed, he stood out in the opulent hall with an undeniable aura-an air of effortless nobility cultivated from a lifetime surrounded by wealth. Even compared to the senior members of the Moore family standing beside him, his presence was more commanding.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Anne felt that he exuded a subtle, post-indulgence satisfaction.

Remembering what had transpired in the attic just moments ago, her heart pounded.

As she passed by him, he didn't spare her a glance, as if they were strangers.

She only heard some of the elders ask, "Arthur, where were you? We've been looking for you."

"Had something to take care of," he replied smoothly.

As he spoke, his gaze flickered toward Anne-just for a second, laced with a hint of amusement.

Her heart nearly stopped.

"You're always the busiest," one of the elders chuckled. "I heard your new infrastructure investment fund sold nearly a hundred billion in its first week. Congratulations."

Even those outside the industry had seen the flood of financial reports. This fund had an unstoppable momentum, breaking records across all platforms.

"Just fortunate to have the trust of our investors," Arthur replied, neither humble nor arrogant, brushing off the praise with effortless ease.

His words always carried a veneer of warmth, but those who knew him well understood his innate coldness and detachment. Conversations with him rarely went beyond the surface.

Anne's legs were still sore, so she found a quiet corner to rest.

Halfway through the banquet, Mrs. Old Moore sent someone to fetch her.

"Anne, Austin is on a video call. Come quickly."

"Alright."

She had almost forgotten-Austin was her betrothed fiancé.

He was abroad, but as the old lady's favorite grandson, he never missed a family banquet. Though he couldn't be there in person, he always made sure to call in on time.

The hall was lively. After greeting his grandmother and a few elders, Austin's charming smile turned to Anne.

"Anne, did you miss me?"

His face was bright, handsome-sunshine-like.

She responded mechanically, "Of course I did."

Performing affection with Austin every month-it had become second nature.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man sitting in the distance. He seemed relaxed, almost indifferent, but at her words, the corners of his lips curled slightly, as if mocking. His eyes darkened, unreadable.

"Anne, I should be able to return by the end of the year."

"Great. I'll be waiting for you."

Hearing Austin's announcement, Mrs. Old Moore and the elders were visibly pleased-especially Austin's mother, Camilla.

Austin was exceptionally good-looking, charming, and seemingly warm and pure at heart. Even someone as shrewd as Arthur showed his younger brother special favor.

But only Anne knew-Austin was a complete psychopath.

The old lady joked beside him, "Austin, you're biased. You're coming back, and the first person you tell is Anne. Don't you think your grandmother and mother miss you just as much?"

Austin pouted playfully. "Grandma, Mom, I love you both the most! I just wanted to surprise you."

The old lady chuckled. "Sweet-talker."

After the call ended, Austin's mother, Camilla, wiped her eyes, turning to Mrs. Old Moore.

"Austin has been away for five years now, Mom. This time, you can't be biased. When he returns, don't send him away again."

Mrs. Old Moore smiled. "I'm not biased. I treat them all equally."

At that moment, Camilla glanced at Anne before quickly looking away, saying nothing more.

But that glance-Anne understood it perfectly. Disdain.

Disapproval of the engagement the old lady had arranged.

And honestly, Camilla's dissatisfaction was justified.

Among the Moore family's younger generation, the eldest, Adam, had been introduced by the old lady to Betty, the daughter of a prominent Chicago politician. With the upcoming election, the Miller family's influence in the city would skyrocket, providing Adam with immeasurable benefits.

The second son, Arthur, was also being matched with influential families. Mrs. Old Moore had been arranging meetings with prominent heiresses in Chicago, seeking an alliance to further his business empire.

Yet for Austin, she had preordained Anne.

Compared to the true socialites, Anne's background was ordinary. Her mother was the head of obstetrics and gynecology at a central Chicago hospital, and her father was a pharmacology researcher.

Compared to the other heiresses, she had no social standing, no network, and no political value.

So, Camilla's resentment was understandable.

Everyone present was sharp enough to notice Camilla's glance at Anne.

And all of them agreed-the old lady was playing favorites.

Anne was merely a foster child in the Moore family, not a true heiress.

To be engaged to Austin?

She was far from worthy.

The reason Anne grew up in the Moore family is a long story.

She had been weak and sickly since childhood-falling ill twice a year, each time lasting for half a year.

When she was in elementary school, her parents were assigned to remote grassroots hospitals for poverty alleviation, so she lived with her grandmother.

Seeing how frail she was, her grandmother insisted that Anne's fate was meant for nobility, like that of an empress in ancient times. She claimed that an ordinary family couldn't properly raise her and decided that she needed the blessings of a wealthy household. So, she reached out to her longtime friend, Granny Mrs. Moore.

The Moore family was beyond just wealthy-it was a dynasty. This was exactly what Anne's grandmother had in mind. Without hesitation, she packed Anne's bags and sent the sickly girl to live with the Moores.

When her parents returned from their work assignments and learned of this, they were furious. Her mother, Caroline, a firm believer in materialism, bluntly pointed out, "Mom, you're just being biased against girls. You didn't want to take care of Anna, so you sent her off to someone else's home."

Her grandmother was just as indignant. "I swear on my heart, I love Anna dearly! How could this be favoritism? Just look at her-hasn't she gained weight? Doesn't she look healthier? Has she even gotten sick once since she moved in? Her fate is meant for wealth; she simply cannot thrive in an ordinary household."

Caroline scoffed. "That's just because the Moore family has a great diet, with balanced and nutritious meals. Of course, she's healthier now."

Whether it was due to her grandmother's mystical reasoning or her mother's scientific perspective, the fact remained that during the years Anne spent with the Moore family, she rarely fell ill.

Mrs. Old Moore adored Anne, especially after her grandmother passed away. She treated Anne like her own granddaughter, Daisy-sending her to the best schools and giving her the best life.

By the time Anne entered middle school, her parents had returned to Chicago. But with their demanding jobs and the added responsibility of raising Anne's younger brother, they saw that she was thriving at the Moore household and decided to let her stay. Like Austin and Daisy, she had a driver escorting her to and from school daily, only returning to her own home on weekends.

This lifestyle made young Anne feel, for a time, that she was truly part of the Moore family. It wasn't until later that she realized how others viewed her-an outsider, a mere foster child.

The banquet continued. After the conversation about Austin ended, the topic shifted to Arthur-he was the only younger member of the Moore family who had yet to settle down. Recently, Mrs. Old Moore had carefully selected a few wealthy young ladies for him, ensuring a suitable match. "I've arranged for you to meet them this weekend," she said.

Arthur, lounging lazily in his seat, replied, "Unfortunately, I already have plans."

Mrs. Old Moore frowned. "I asked Assistant Donne. He said you have no scheduled engagements this weekend."

Arthur replied indifferently, "It's a personal matter."

Unlike Adam, who was always gentle and considerate toward their grandmother, or Austin, who was sunny and charming, Arthur remained distant-never warm, yet never disrespectful.

As Camilla once put it, "He's emotionally detached-no amount of warmth can thaw him."

Seeing his disinterest, Mrs. Old Moore didn't push further. Instead, she turned toward Anne and called, "Anne, help me back to my room to rest."

"Yes, Grandma." Anne hurried to her side, relieved to escape the tense undercurrents of the banquet.

Arthur's words had been subtle yet sharp-he was not easy to deal with.

By the time Anne returned, the Moore family members were still chatting enthusiastically, showing no signs of leaving. Feeling exhausted, she decided to step out early and walked toward the courtyard.

Just then, she saw Arthur also leaving the banquet hall.