Married to the “Dying” Heiress,Now My Ex and Family Beg for Mercy

The little princess of the elite circles had just returned to the country, only to be diagnosed with a terminal STD—her body covered in festering sores, with less than two weeks to live.

When the news reached my wedding, my stepbrother burst into tears and threatened to kill himself, demanding that I switch places with him as the groom.

I brushed off my suit, unmoved.

"Back when the little princess drew lots to choose her husband and picked me, you were the one who begged Dad to swap our names and steal the marriage arrangement."

"Now that she's dying and your shot at becoming the heir is gone, you're having regrets? I'm already getting married. If you think I'm going to take your place and jump into that fire pit, keep dreaming!"

To my disbelief, my fiancée Julia Henson rushed over and wrapped her arms around him, shooting me a look of disapproval.

"The ceremony hasn't started yet, and we haven't signed the marriage certificate—it doesn't count!"

"I can't just stand by and watch Neil suffer. Today's groom has to be him. You're his older brother—sacrificing for your younger brother is only right!"

My eyes flew wide open. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

My father and stepmother nodded eagerly, tossing identity documents at my feet.

"I've already changed your name back," my father said. "The little princess is insatiable—never uses protection in bed. She's declared that before she dies, she's going to have one last fling as a bride."

"Neil was raised with the best of everything. He absolutely cannot catch some filthy disease, and he certainly can't become a widower. The other family isn't one to cross—if we back out, they won't let you go. Your only choice is to marry in!"

The two people in this world who should have been closest to me were now shoving me into the fire without a moment's hesitation.

My heart turned to ash. I closed my eyes briefly, then let out a cold laugh.

"Fine. Have it your way."

...

After I handed over the groom's suit to my stepbrother Neil Simmons, he bounced over to Julia and threw his arms around her, his face flushed.

"Jules, do I look handsome?"

Julia's eyes sparkled with undisguised admiration. She answered softly, "Very handsome."

"When I was designing it, I subconsciously used these measurements. I never expected it to fit you so perfectly. I guess it was fate—you were always meant to be my husband."

I froze for a moment, then couldn't help but smile bitterly.

No wonder the suit had felt too tight around the waist when I tried it on.

Because Julia had designed it herself, I hadn't wanted to disappoint her, so I'd kept quiet about it.

I'd thought I'd just put on a few pounds lately. Turns out the man she'd always wanted to marry was someone else entirely.

Seeing that I wasn't going to cause trouble, my stepmother actually stopped rolling her eyes at me for once.

My father even went so far as to praise me, saying I was finally acting like a proper older brother.

Watching the four of them laugh and chat like one happy family, I spoke up, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You don't actually think that just because I agreed to marry into the family in Neil's place, I'd do it without a bride price, do you?"

Their expressions stiffened.

"What do you want?"

"Ten percent of Simmons Corp shares."

The moment the words left my mouth, my father's face darkened.

"You ungrateful bastard! Those shares are for your brother! And here I was just thinking you'd finally learned some sense—turns out you're back to stealing from him already. Who do you think you are?!"

I'd always known my father played favorites. But even so, the words still cut deep.

"Ha! That company was built by my mother before she died. If Neil—the son of a homewrecker—can get shares, why the hell can't I?!"

"Don't forget—I'm your son too!"

My father's face turned a furious shade of purple. If he hadn't been worried about delaying the ceremony, he probably would have slapped me across the face right then and there.

He forced down his rage.

"Your mother was my wife when she was alive—even she belonged to the Simmons family, let alone her company. I decide who gets shares!"

"I fed you, clothed you, raised you to this age—you should be grateful!"

He'd been saying this ever since the day he brought Neil and his mother into our home.

Back then, I didn't understand. Why was it that a father raising his own child—the most natural thing in the world—somehow became something I had to grovel and give thanks for?