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My Sister's Lover, My Husband

Name: My Sister's Lover, My Husband
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Rabbit

Modern | Completed

5.0

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My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage. He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome. Then, a shattering phone call. David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died. Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner. Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy." My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding." I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me. But that defense was a cruel facade. One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her. And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost." Jess was pregnant with his child. The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act. Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie. Was I truly so blind? So easily manipulated? Why me? Why this profound and sickening betrayal? That night, the naive wife died. A cold, hard rage ignited. I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country. But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside. They were wrong. I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines. This wasn't just about escape anymore. It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me.

Modern Betrayal Drama Kickass Heroine

Chapter 10 10

The day before yesterday 13:41

Chapter 1 1

My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage.

He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome.

Then, a shattering phone call.

David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died.

Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner.

Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy."

My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding."

I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me.

But that defense was a cruel facade.

One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her.

And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost."

Jess was pregnant with his child.

The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act.

Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie.

Was I truly so blind?

So easily manipulated?

Why me?

Why this profound and sickening betrayal?

That night, the naive wife died.

A cold, hard rage ignited.

I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country.

But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside.

They were wrong.

I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines.

This wasn't just about escape anymore.

It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me.

Chapter 1

Sarah Miller folded Mark's shirts, the scent of his detergent familiar and comforting.

It was a Tuesday morning, quiet, the kind she usually liked.

Mark was already at the brewery, a text from him earlier saying, "Big mash day. Love you."

She smiled, placing the neatly folded pile in his drawer.

Her own job at the community event planning company didn't start for another hour.

She was making coffee when her phone buzzed on the counter.

It wasn't Mark.

The screen showed "Brenda Thompson."

A knot formed in Sarah's stomach instantly. Brenda rarely called her directly, especially not this early.

Sarah answered, trying to keep her voice light. "Hi, Brenda."

"Sarah," Brenda's voice was tight, strained, not its usual commanding tone. "It's David."

A pause hung heavy, thick with unspoken fear.

"He collapsed at the brewery. An ambulance is taking him to St. Luke's. Mark is with him. You need to come."

Shock hit Sarah, cold and sharp. "Collapsed? Is he... is he okay?"

"They don't know. It's bad, Sarah. Just come." The line clicked dead.

David. Mark's identical twin, her sister Jess's husband.

The four of them were a unit, or supposed to be.

Sarah and Mark, married three years, a love she thought was her anchor.

Jess and David, married five, a more flamboyant pairing. Jess, her older sister, always the star, always getting what she wanted, especially from their mother, Karen.

Sarah often felt like a pale shadow next to Jess's vivid colors.

The Thompson twins co-owned the craft brewery, their father's legacy, now their success.

Brenda, their mother, a woman of iron will, saw the brewery and her sons as the Thompson dynasty. Grandchildren were essential to that vision.

Sarah's hands shook as she grabbed her keys and purse.

Her mind raced, a blur of terrible images. David, always so full of life, a mirror image of her Mark.

She drove to St. Luke's, her heart pounding against her ribs.

The emergency room waiting area was stark, smelling of antiseptic and anxiety.

She saw Mark first, his face ashen, his shoulders slumped. He looked lost.

He rushed to her, pulling her into a hug that felt desperate.

"They're working on him," he choked out. "It happened so fast."

Jess was there too, a crumpled figure on a plastic chair, her usually perfect makeup smudged by tears.

She was wailing, a raw, animal sound of grief that filled the small space.

Their mother, Karen, was beside Jess, stroking her hair, murmuring words Sarah couldn't catch.

Sarah went to Jess, placing a hand on her sister's shaking shoulder. "Jess, I'm so sorry."

Jess barely registered her presence, her eyes wide with panic and disbelief, fixed on the closed doors of the trauma room.

Mark took over, speaking in low tones to a nurse, his voice strained but trying to be practical.

Brenda Thompson arrived then, her formidable composure fractured.

She looked ten years older, her face a mask of anguish.

She didn't speak, just walked straight to Mark, her hand gripping his arm as if for support.

The air was thick with a shared, suffocating sorrow. David, the vibrant, laughing David, was fighting for his life, and the family felt like it was shattering around them.

A doctor finally emerged, his expression grim.

The news was the worst. David was gone. A sudden, aggressive brain aneurysm. Nothing they could do.

Jess's wail turned into a scream of pure agony.

The days that followed were a blur of grief and funeral arrangements.

The wake, the service, the burial. So many people, so much sadness.

Sarah moved through it all in a daze, trying to support Mark, trying to offer comfort to Jess, who was inconsolable.

Mark was her rock, but he was grieving his twin, his business partner, his other half. She saw the deep well of his pain.

Brenda was a stoic, grieving matriarch, her eyes holding a universe of loss.

Karen hovered around Jess, her focus entirely on her favored, now widowed, daughter.

Weeks passed. The initial shock began to subside, replaced by a dull, persistent ache.

Jess was staying at Brenda's house, unable to face the home she'd shared with David.

One Sunday, Brenda called for a family dinner. "We need to talk," she'd said, her voice still heavy but with a new note of purpose.

The atmosphere at the Thompson home was somber, portraits of David displayed prominently.

Grief still clung to every surface.

Brenda looked at Jess, her expression a mixture of sorrow and a strange resolve.

"Jess, my dear," Brenda began, her voice trembling slightly. "Losing David... it's a wound that will never heal. And for you, to lose your husband, your future..."

Jess just stared blankly, tears welling up again. She couldn't speak.

Brenda took a deep breath. "You and David... you were about to start IVF. You had embryos. His embryos."

Sarah felt a chill. Where was this going?

"A part of David can still live on," Brenda continued, her voice gaining strength. "Jess can still have his child. Our grandchild."

She turned her gaze directly to Sarah.

"Sarah, you are young, you are healthy. Jess needs this. We need this."

Brenda's eyes were intense, almost pleading.

"We want you to be a surrogate for Jess. To carry David and Jess's baby."

Sarah stared, speechless. The fork in her hand clattered onto her plate.

Carry her dead brother-in-law's child for her sister?

The idea was monstrous, a violation.

Brenda repeated it, her voice firm, as if stating the most natural thing in the world.

"It's what David would have wanted. For his line to continue. For Jess to have the child they planned. It's the ultimate gift to your sister, Sarah. A way to heal this family."

Sarah's head spun. Her stomach churned. She felt sick.

She looked at Mark, her eyes begging for him to say something, to stop this.

Mark stood up so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"Mom! That is completely out of line!" His voice was a whip crack.

"You can't ask Sarah to do that. It's her body, her life. It's an insane request."

He moved to Sarah's side, his hand protectively on her shoulder.

"We will support Jess in every other way possible, but not like this. Absolutely not."

A wave of immense gratitude washed over Sarah. He understood. He was protecting her.

Brenda's face hardened. "Mark, this is about family. About legacy. About David."

She turned back to Sarah, her voice softening into a manipulative plea.

"Sarah, dear, think of poor Jess. She's lost everything. This is her only hope for a piece of David, for a future. Don't you want to help your sister?"

The pressure was immense, the emotional blackmail suffocating.

Sarah felt her throat tighten. She wanted to scream.

Then, her own mother, Karen, chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

"Sarah, honey, Brenda's right. Think of poor Jess. What she's going through. It's the least you can do for your sister. You've always been so understanding."

Betrayal, sharp and bitter, rose in Sarah's chest. Her own mother.

"It's a chance for Jess to have happiness again," Karen continued, "a beautiful baby. David's baby."

Sarah felt cornered, painted as selfish if she refused.

Her hands clenched into fists under the table, nails digging into her palms.

The unfairness of it all was a familiar weight. Jess always came first.

Sarah had always been expected to "be understanding," to "make sacrifices."

But this? This was a sacrifice of her body, her autonomy, her life with Mark.

She looked at Mark again, searching his face.

He had always been her champion, her safe harbor.

He'd sworn to protect her, to love her. She remembered his vows, his tender reassurances over the years.

Her trust in him was absolute. He wouldn't let them do this to her.

Mark stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Sarah.

His voice was low, but steel ran through it.

"Mom, Karen, I understand you're grieving. We all are. But this conversation is over."

He looked directly at Brenda. "Sarah will not be doing this. We will not be doing this. End of discussion."

"We will help Jess find other options for surrogacy if that's what she wants," Mark continued, his tone firm but respectful. "We will support her financially, emotionally. But asking Sarah to carry David's child is not acceptable, and it won't happen."

Brenda's eyes flashed with anger. "You're denying David his legacy, Mark! You're denying Jess her child!"

"I'm protecting my wife," Mark stated, his gaze unwavering.

He then looked at Brenda, a flicker of apology in his eyes for her pain, but his resolve was clear.

He squeezed Sarah's shoulder gently, a silent message of solidarity.

Sarah's heart swelled. He was her husband, her protector.

He was standing up for her, for them, against both their mothers.

The relief was so profound, it almost brought tears to her eyes.

She loved him so much in that moment. She trusted him completely.