His Almost Wife Suddenly Became His Sister-in-Law

[Local News Update: Around 2 PM today, the deck of the Lover’s Bridge suddenly collapsed. Emergency rescue teams are currently conducting search and rescue operations. Drivers and pedestrians are advised to take alternate routes and avoid falling debris!]

Gretchen Marxhausen was right there at the disaster site. Believing Bernard Golberstein was trapped under the rubble, she gritted her teeth and began digging with her bare hands.

People tried to pull her away, but she ignored them. Her hands were covered in blood, but she wouldn’t stop.

But when she turned her head, she saw him carefully carrying his childhood sweetheart out of the passenger seat. The two clung tightly to each other.

And then they kissed—for three long minutes—and walked away without looking back to the wrecked site.

‘If forcing something only made it bitter, then there’s no need to hold on.’

Gretchen turned away and made another phone call, agreeing to a marriage proposal with someone else.

A week later, she was set to go to her engagement ceremony with him.

——

“Gretchen, why’d you just leave without waiting for me? Are you trying to get back at me? Listen, both my parents were trapped under that bridge! Did you intentionally want to embarrass me?!”

Bernard Golberstein stood outside his car, looking pissed, and a flashy red sports car was parked in front of her house.

From the passenger seat, a faint shadow in red hinted at someone waiting inside.

Faced with his series of accusations, Gretchen was silent while Bernard’s chest rose and fell in frustration, his anger finding no outlet.

She found it hilarious. ‘At the time, wasn't it him holding Marjorie like the world would end if he loosened his grip for even a second? And now he’s got the nerve to turn it around on me?!’

“Are you jealous that I saved Marjorie first?” Bernard finally snapped.

“Come on, she’s delicate! You think she could handle such a violent impact? What if she got hurt? What if she fainted?”

“But you? You hit the gym every day, right? A bump or a scratch isn’t gonna kill you, so why are you acting so dramatic?”

Gretchen was even more speechless this time.

When the bridge collapsed, the first car to plunge was hers.

The driver was in a panic, not knowing what to do, and they plummeted straight to the bottom.

Good thing it wasn’t a long drop, and Gretchen woke up.

The first thing she did was kneel on sharp gravel and, dizzy with pain, dig at the bricks with her bare hands.

Within moments, her fingers were dripping with blood, and her entire body was drenched in sweat.

That was when she saw Bernard, running past her with Marjorie Fowler cradled in his arms to get her to the nearby ambulance.

“Doctor, please save her!” he begged, his voice desperate as he gently set Marjorie—who seemed to have only a bit of dust on her—onto the stretcher.

“I know you’re upset,” Bernard said now, “but you and I are getting married! We need to be mindful of how things look!”

Gretchen raised her eyelids slightly. “Right,” she said, “ I am getting married. But not to you, Bernard.”

He looked at her as if he’d just heard the most absurd joke, stepping back a few paces to size her up.

“Hey, did you lose your memory? You’ve been chasing me for how many years?! Don’t forget, you’re not exactly young anymore. You think any of the rich guys who know about us would actually marry you?”

Looking at his mocking smile, Gretchen felt her arm start to ache again.

“I’m a bit tired. I need to rest,” she said, reaching for the door.

“No way!” Bernard snapped, blocking her. “There’s a family dinner later. As my parents’ soontobe daughter in law, you have to be there.”

“Bernie!” Suddenly, a sweet, delicate voice rang out.

The sports car window rolled down slowly, revealing Marjorie sitting inside and waving at Bernard.

“My face got scratched! If you don’t take me to the hospital now, I’m afraid my beauty will be ruined!”

Bernard hesitated, glancing at Gretchen’s bandaged hands.

“You need your dressings changed too, don’t you? I’ll just drive both of you there.”

Gretchen hesitated but eventually lifted her leg and pulled open the car’s passengerside door.

Bernard caught up in a few strides, his brow furrowed tight.

“Marjorie gets carsick easily. She has to sit up front. You, take the backseat.”

The sports car sped off, the three of them lost in their own thoughts.

Gretchen, already struggling with her injured arms and legs, found it hard enough to move. Now squeezed into the backseat alongside piles of gift boxes, she felt even more uncomfortable.

On the other hand, in the passenger seat, Marjorie kept her mouth busy.

“Hey, Gretchen, this isn’t on your way, is it? Are you going to the hospital too?”

Before Gretchen could answer, Bernard let out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, I actually also don’t think she needs to go. She’s tough enough—what’s a little bump? But I figured we could use an extra hand to carry stuff.”

Gretchen listened to their banter, but she simply turned her head to look out the window. The scenery outside blurred past, disappearing into the distance.

And then, she closed her eyes.

Her years of love and dependence on Bernard were just like the scenery outside. Fading away, frame by frame, swallowed up in the crowd. Gone forever.

“Bernie, I feel nauseous,” Marjorie suddenly whined in a sweet, delicate voice.

Bernard slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the side of the road in a panic.

“What’s wrong? You’re sitting in the front—how are you still feeling sick?”

In the rearview mirror, Gretchen’s eyes briefly met Marjorie’s.

In her gaze, there was arrogance—and something else, something coy and calculated.

“Bernie,” Marjorie said weakly, “I’ve just been feeling so weak lately. No energy, always tired, and nauseous all the time.”

Gretchen knew enough about basic health to realize something was off if what Marjorie was saying was true.

“Gretchen, go grab Marjorie a bottle of water. Maybe it’ll help,” Bernard instructed, glancing over his shoulder.

Gretchen froze for a second, instinctively shifting her injured leg.

Thinking she was refusing, Bernard sneered and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I knew it. You’ve never had any sympathy. Forget it, I’ll go. And let me remind you, don’t go chatting her ear off while I’m gone. She needs to rest.”

Gretchen just felt drained. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.

“Come on, I know you’re not really asleep,” Marjorie’s voice floated back, dripping with arrogance.

“Look at this.” She raised her wrist, flashing a smile. “Bernie gave me this.”

Gretchen had seen that string of translucent emerald beads on the wrist of Bernard’s mother Dolores countless times growing up.

It was said to be a rare treasure passed down through generations of royalty—priceless.

Marjorie admired the bracelet on her wrist, twirling it slowly, then spoke casually as if trying to “console” Gretchen.

“Bernie told me Uncle Reinhold and Auntie Dolores like you a lot. But, you know, Bernard has always loved his freedom. He can’t stand arranged marriages—or women who have ulterior motives.”

“So when he gave me this bracelet, he said someone as simple and kind as me is exactly the kind of woman he really wants.”

“Do you know what Bernard calls you, Gretchen? A little bootlicker.”

“But have you ever heard this? Love doesn’t come from begging. Real love… It's about attraction.”

Marjorie finished with a sly, seductive smile.

Gretchen sat there in silence, listening as her heart felt like it was being gripped and crushed. Saying she wasn’t hurt would’ve been the biggest lie.

‘The Golbersteins' wedding heirloom now clasped on someone else’s wrist—with Bernard’s own hands!’

Marjorie’s voice cut through her thoughts, low but piercing.

“Gretchen, my advice? Know when to back off.”

At those last two words, Gretchen couldn’t hold back any longer and turned to respond…

“So, what do you think it means to know your place?”

Marjorie’s lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It means not being greedy. You can’t have both pride and benefits, you know? If you push too hard, Bernard will just get tired. And I can’t let that happen.”

Bernard opened the driver’s side door, holding a bag of drinks.

“I bought vitamin water, energy drinks, mineral water, milk, and yogurt. What do you feel like drinking? Should I buy you something warm?”

Marjorie rummaged through the bottles one by one.

“Bernie, I’m feeling better now. I don’t want any of these. I’m not thirsty.”

In the backseat, Gretchen sat quietly, her lips cracked and pale, but Bernard didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he tied the bag shut and stroked Marjorie’s long hair.

“Good girl. I’ll carry these for you. If you feel thirsty when we get to the hospital, you can have one then.”

As soon as the car engine started, the smell of gasoline filled the air, and Marjorie suddenly gagged, her face turning deathly pale.

“Bernie, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but Gretchen kept chatting with me about random stuff, and now my head’s killing me…”

Bernard immediately started patting Marjorie’s back, his face tense. Then he shot a glare at Gretchen through the rearview mirror.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up or don’t talk too much? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Gretchen sighed quietly. She wanted to defend herself but ended up saying nothing.

Seeing her stay silent like it didn’t matter, Bernard’s anger only grew.

“This is all your fault. Look at Marjorie—look how miserable she is because of you!”

Marjorie softly tugged on Bernard’s hand and began to cough.

“Bernie… it’s not Gretchen’s fault. She just loves to gossip, you know, and once she starts” — She coughed again — “she can’t stop…”

The hospital was only 20 minutes away, but to Gretchen, it felt like 2,000 kilometers.

The whole drive, Bernard kept glaring at her in the mirror, his frustration practically steaming out of him.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Bernard jumped out of the car and rushed to open the passenger door.

His voice was full of concern as he asked, “Marjorie, are you okay? Can you walk?”

Marjorie leaned back weakly, her face pale and her brows furrowed slightly. “No, Bernard… My legs feel so weak.”

Gretchen watched as Bernard gently scooped Marjorie into his arms, holding her like she was a princess. It was exactly like that day on the bridge—the way he looked at her, the way he held her—everything was the same.

But Gretchen didn’t feel that same overwhelming despair as she had back then. Now, all she felt was exhaustion.

Bernard was the same as last time, but this time he turned around as if he remembered something.

“Gretchen, grab Marjorie’s bag of drinks. She might get thirsty later.”

At the hospital, Gretchen’s wound treatment turned out to be much more complicated than Marjorie’s.

After carefully checking Marjorie’s face, the doctor only told her to drink more water.

But when Gretchen’s bandages were removed, the doctor gasped.

“Didn’t I tell you not to lift anything heavy? Look at this—the wound’s torn open!”

Right then, Bernard walked in and overheard the doctor’s exclamation. Instead of looking concerned, he let out a cold laugh.

“She lifts weights all the time. Of course, it’s going to tear!”

The doctor froze midaction and didn’t say anything until Bernard left the room. “Ma’am, is he your…?”

Gretchen closed her eyes and answered flatly, “He’s nothing to me anymore.”

The doctor felt sorry for her, but seeing her pale face, he held back whatever he wanted to say.

When the cold disinfectant touched her torn skin, Gretchen didn’t seem to feel the pain. She didn't even flinch.

The doctor couldn’t help but say softly, “Ma’am, if it hurts, tell me, okay? You don’t have to tough it out. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

Gretchen forced a bitter smile.

The sting of alcohol disinfecting her wound couldn’t compare to the constant stinging ache Bernard caused her.

Outside the dressing room, she could vaguely hear Bernard and Marjorie laughing.

“Bernie, when I’m better, can you take me shopping for dresses?”

Bernard’s voice was affectionate. “No need for you to pick. I’ll just have the whole store moved to my place. You can keep what you like and throw away what you don’t.”

Marjorie giggled.

“Aww, Bernie, you’re too good to me,” she said. Then, she added, “Can I come to your family dinner later? I want to meet your parents.”

Bernard paused for a moment.

“Our family dinner? It’s just going to be loud and boring. I’ll take Gretchen to make an appearance for my parents, then I’ll come down and spend time with you. I just use her to entertain Mom and Dad, you know. Nothing more.”

At the dinner, Bernard was lost in his thoughts.

He barely touched his food, either texting away or smiling faintly to himself.

Reinhold, his father, raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Bernard, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Bernard’s smile grew even wider. “Well, my girl treats me really well.”

Reinhold and Dolores exchanged delighted glances before asking in unison, “Which girl?”

Bernard raised a proud eyebrow, his eyes flicking toward Gretchen.

“Who else could it be? Of course, it’s—”

Just then, his phone rang, and Gretchen saw the name on the screen: [Baby Marjorie]

Bernard ignored the surprised looks from the table and picked up the call immediately.

Marjorie’s sweet voice came through the speaker. “Bernie, are you done? It’s so cold here in the car.”

Bernard chided her lightly. “Turn the heat up, silly girl!”

Gretchen listened, her face expressionless. Once the call ended, Bernard stood up quickly.

“Dad, Mom, something came up. I gotta go now.” He turned to Gretchen. “Gretchen, you stay and chat with them for me.”

Reinhold frowned deeply. “What’s so urgent? Look at Gretchen, her arm’s still in a bandage. If you’re leaving, at least take her home first.”

But Gretchen was tired of watching Bernard show off his affection with Marjorie. “There’s no need, Uncle Terrence. I’ll head home on my own later. I don’t wanna trouble Bernard.”

“That’s not happening,” Reinhold insisted. “Bernard, take Gretchen home first.”

As Gretchen followed Bernard down the hall, he suddenly stopped at a corner.

“Didn’t know you had it in you. What kind of spell did you put on my dad to make him like you so much, Gretchen?”

Gretchen responded coolly. “I have no idea.”

Bernard’s face darkened, his brows knitting together. “Listen, Gretchen, don’t try to pull this attitude with me. Did I not make myself clear enough?”

Gretchen stared at him steadily. “Go ahead. Say what you need to say.”

Bernard tilted his head, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Our parents decided on our marriage, and I’ll keep my word and marry you. But after that, how I treat you—that’s a different story.”

Gretchen’s heart sank as the words hit her. “And then?”

Bernard let out a dry chuckle. “And then? I’ll spend my life with the woman I truly love. I’ve never met anyone as sweet and kind as she is.”

Gretchen’s voice echoed through the parking garage as she choked out, “You mean… Marjorie?”

Bernard’s expression turned cold. “I’m warning you—don’t badmouth Marjorie to my parents. She’s nothing like you—she doesn’t have your hidden agendas. If I ever catch you—”

“Bernie!”

A sharp, earpiercing sound cut through the air, and Gretchen felt like her eardrums were about to burst.

“Someone… someone…”

Bernard sniffled then sprinted toward the car like he was in a hundredmeter race while Gretchen limped after him.

When she finally reached the car, she saw what happened: Marjorie’s high heels had gotten scuffed somehow, leaving a noticeable patch where the paint was chipped.

“What am I going to do, Bernie? It looks so ugly now!”

Bernard was about to get in the car when his phone buzzed with a reminder of his appointment—it was the shareholder meeting for one of his hotels, something he couldn’t skip.

“I’ll have the driver take you to IFC to buy a new pair,” he said, then turned to Gretchen. “You’re not busy, right? Go with Marjorie.”

He added, “Her back’s hurt from dancing, so she can’t bend down. You can help her change shoes.”

Marjorie smiled sweetly, her dimples shallow and delicate. “Thanks for helping me, Gret—”

“I’m busy,” Gretchen cut in.

Bernard looked like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “What did you say, Gretchen?”

Gretchen didn’t hesitate to repeat herself. “I’ve got other things to do. I’m busy.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the parking lot, heading straight for a designer jewelry shop.

Even though the engagement ceremony wasn’t as formal as a wedding, she still needed an engagement ring.

She picked out a plain silver ring—no diamonds, no flashy plating. The design was simple and timeless, but the thick band made her fingers look even longer and more elegant.

The sales assistant greeted her with a polite smile. “Are you buying one ring or a pair, Ma’am?”

“A pair,” Gretchen answered.

“What’s the gentleman’s size, Ma’am? I can check if it needs to be custommade.”

“Size 23,” Gretchen answered automatically.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake.

That was Bernard’s size. She knew it because, once upon a time, she’d secretly measured his finger while he was napping. But that detail didn’t matter anymore.

The sales assistant noticed her hesitation and reassured her with a warm smile.

“We can adjust the size for any ring—male or female. Why don’t you pick the design you like first, Ma’am?”

Gretchen finalized the order, arranged to pick it up in a week, and headed home feeling satisfied.

But while she was still in the cab on the way back, her phone rang. The sales assistant was on the other end, her voice trembling with panic.

In the background, Gretchen heard a familiar woman’s voice.

“Business is about selling to the highest bidder, isn’t it? I’m offering 10 times the price!”

Her chest started racing. “What happened?”

The sales assistant’s voice cracked, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “There… There’s a woman who came in, and… and she really wants the ring you ordered, Ma’am. She’s demanding we… we sell it to her.”

That familiar voice interrupted again, sharp and entitled. “Here’s my payment. I’m taking it. My fiancé said if you don’t sell it to me, your stop won’t even open tomorrow!”

And then, the line abruptly went dead.

Gretchen didn’t need to guess. She knew exactly who the demanding customer was—Marjorie.

She closed her eyes briefly to compose herself, and then she pulled out her phone and dialed Marjorie’s number. The phone rang four times before it was answered, but the voice on the other end wasn’t Marjorie's.

It was Bernard. “Gretchen, you’ve got some nerve to lie to me. You said you were busy, but you were just out shopping instead!”

Gretchen didn’t even acknowledge his accusation. Her tone was cold and steady when she said, “Give it back.”

Bernard played dumb. “Give what back?”

After a pause, maybe realizing he couldn’t talk his way out of it, he finally said, “You mean the ring? Come on, Marjorie really likes it. Just let her have it.”

But Gretchen didn’t waver. “Why should I? Give it back to me.”

For a moment, Bernard was stunned. But when he spoke again, his tone was icy. “Hey, who do you think you’re talking to, huh?”

In the background, Marjorie’s sweet voice chimed in, full of fake innocence.

“Oh no, did I take something Gretchen liked? Bernie, don’t blame her. I’ll give it back if it’s such a big deal…”

Bernard gritted his teeth, his voice low and clearly restrained.

“Gretchen, can you stop being so difficult? I can call off the engagement anytime before it happens, you know.”

Gretchen replied calmly, “Suit yourself.”

After that, silence hung heavy in the air until Marjorie spoke again. “Gretchen, don’t be mad. I’ll give it back to you soon.”

Later that day, the doorbell rang at Gretchen’s place.

When she opened the package, she found the engagement ring—cut into four jagged pieces as if by wire cutters.

Along with it was a note.

[Gretchen, I promised Bernie I’d give it back to you. So… does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?]

Before she could process her anger, the doorbell rang again.

It was Bernard, standing outside.

Gretchen’s hands trembled, but she refused to acknowledge him.

But he wouldn’t stop pressing the doorbell.

“Gretchen, open the door. Let me explain.”

Unable to take the noise anymore, Gretchen flung the door open. Bernard stood there, his hair a mess, his face full of impatience.

“I’ll compensate you for it,” he said. “How much do you want? Five thousand? Ten thousand?”

Gretchen closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “It’s not about the money.”

“Then what is it? Didn’t you go through all this trouble to marry me for money?” Bernard’s voice was dripping with annoyance. “Gretchen, stop playing games. I told you before—you can’t have it all. With me, it’s either money or feelings. You can only pick one.”

Gretchen met his gaze, her face expressionless. “Is that so? Then I don’t want any of that.”

With that, she slammed the door shut.

Bernard stood frozen in shock, but anger quickly took over. He pounded on the door, shouting, “Gretchen, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Open the door and explain yourself! It’s just a stupid ring—why are you making such a big deal out of it?!”

Inside, Gretchen slid down to the floor slowly, listening to his muffled shouting in a daze.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was Rheinold.

“Gretchen, Terrence came back early. He’s here with me right now. Do you have time to come over?”

Terrence—Bernard’s older cousin and the key figure in the family business.

He graduated from Harvard with a repurposing for staying out of the spotlight, but it was wellknown that he managed more than half of the Golbersteins Co.’s major operations.

The young man was the most important and capable member of his generation, far ahead of everyone else in the family.

Gretchen vaguely remembered meeting him once as a child—a quiet, composed figure.

The invitation caught her off guard, especially since it was earlier than planned. But still, she agreed.

“Of course, Uncle Reinhold. I’m free.”

The old man chuckled on the other end of the line. “Oh, Gretchen, you’ve really got such a great personality— gorgeous and competent! We’re so lucky to have you in our family! Very well, I’ll send a driver to pick you up right away!”

After hanging up, Gretchen began to worry. Marjorie ruined her engagement ring, and her partner’s ring, which she had customized in a rush, was now useless too.

Still, after a moment’s thought, she carefully wrapped the broken pieces of the ring, placed them in a box, and tucked it into her purse.

As she stepped outside, a voice stopped her. “Where are you off to?”

Apparently, Bernard hadn’t left.

He leaned lazily against his car, his eyes scanning Gretchen’s from head to toe. His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

“Got your hair done? Wearing a dress? What, you’re heading to a redcarpet event?”

But Gretchen just ignored him completely, walking straight to the car Reinhold had sent.

Bernard’s smirk faded when she didn’t respond. He opened the car door and slid into the front passenger seat.

“It’s my family’s car. I can ride in it too.”

The driver then looked uneasy. “SSir, your father sent me to pick up Miss Marxhausen.”

Bernard snapped, “Wherever she’s going, I’m going too. Got a problem with that?”

With that, the car sped down the road and finally came to a stop in front of the Golbersteins’s Garden Café.

Bernard let out a dry laugh.

“So you’re hanging out with someone but in our café? Are you trying to avoid paying your bill? Whoah, Gretchen, you’re really something!”

Gretchen heard his sarcasm from behind her, but she kept walking. She couldn't deny though that her chest ached with sadness.

‘We’ve known each other for years. Sure, the Marxhausens aren't in the same league as the Golbersteins, but we’re doing just fine.’

‘And yet, Bernard thought she wanted to marry him just for his money.’

‘How ridiculous!’

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the slick spot on the floor. Her foot slipped, and she landed hard on the ground.

Some sticky, wet substance clung to her skirt and legs. Dazed from the fall and still recovering from her injuries, she couldn’t get up right away.

She must’ve looked pitiful slumping there because Bernard’s voice came again, cold and mocking.

“What’s this? Trying to play the damsel in distress now?”

His tone was lazy, almost amused.

“If you ask me, if you wanna get a man’s attention, that trick works better for someone like Marjorie. She’s delicate enough to pull it off. You? You’re too tall and tough—it just doesn’t work.”

Just then, a concerned voice called out. “Gretchen? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Looking up, she saw Reinhold rushing out of the café to supposedly greet her, his face full of worry.

Beside him was a tall, broadshouldered younger man.

The man didn’t say anything. Seeing her slumped on the floor, he just stepped forward and helped Gretchen up gently.

He smelled faintly of clean laundry, a light, calming scent that reached her nose. The warmth of his hand seeped through her clothes, steadying her.

That made Gretchen’s face flush.

“It takes a hundred days to heal a broken bone. And I heard that you were in a car accident, so you should stay in bed and recover. What if this fall makes your injury worse?”

His voice was deep and magnetic.

Gretchen looked up and realized that the young man looked just like Bernard—sharp brows, blue eyes, striking features—but he carried himself with more maturity and warmth.

“Can you still walk?” he asked.

Gritting her teeth, Gretchen tried to take a step forward, but pain shot through her leg. She stumbled and fell right into his warm arms.

The next thing she knew, he scooped her up effortlessly.

“Don’t push yourself,” he said quietly.

At that moment, everyone’s attention was on Gretchen. No one noticed Bernard standing in the background, his face stormy, fists clenched tight.

Inside, Terrence set Gretchen down on a couch and knelt to check her injuries.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

When his fingers brushed her skin, she flinched.

“Stay still,” he said firmly, and then he gestured to someone nearby. “Do you have a first aid kit? Bring it here please.”

The receptionist hurried off and returned with a disinfectant, cotton swabs, and bandages.

Terrence disinfected Gretchen’s wound quietly, his focus steady while Gretchen obediently stayed still.

Her mind drifted to the car accident. That day, her leg had been pinned tight by the car door. Desperation to save Bernard had pushed her to grit her teeth and yank her leg free. But the pain had been excruciating.

Compared to that, her new wound was nothing.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” she said, trying to ease Terrence’s serious expression. She didn’t want to trouble him any more than she already had.

“Even small wounds can get infected. Haven’t you heard of people dying from tetanus because they didn't get diagnosed and treated in time?” he said, his tone calm but firm. “So just stay still. I’ll take care of it quickly.”

Gretchen’s gaze drifted across the room, and her eyes met and locked with Bernard’s.

His stare was cold, filled with disdain and mockery.

With his long legs crossed, Bernard shot Gretchen a pointed look and spoke in a deliberately shrill voice laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, wow, some people have no class to their name, but they sure act like royalty. Dang!”

Reinhold cleared his throat. “This family gathering is a good opportunity to discuss the family’s plans to welcome Gigi and—”

From the shadows, Bernard chimed in. “Dad, you really don’t need to stress over this. The kind of engagement ceremonies we want is nothing like what you’re used to.”

Reinhold’s face immediately hardened. His tone was sharp when he said, “Don’t interrupt me. Wait until I’m done.”

But Bernard wasn’t done yet. He shrugged and kept talking. “I’m just saying, Gretchen and I can figure it out ourselves. You guys don’t need to butt in.”

Seeing his father’s temper on the verge of exploding, Terrence, who had been quietly disinfecting Gretchen’s wound, finally spoke up.

“Looking at Gretchen’s condition, the engagement ceremony might have to be postponed. If she gets hurt again, her recovery’s only going to take longer.”

Reinhold and his wife both nodded in agreement. “Indeed. These formalities aren’t that urgent anyway.”

Unexpectedly, Bernard chimed in again. “Come on, she’s totally faking it! You should’ve seen her at the hospital earlier—she was running like she had wheels on her feet!”

That was the last straw for Reinhold. He slammed his hand on the table and glared. “Bernard! Who told you it’s okay to talk to her like that? Show some manners to your soontobe sisterinlaw!”

The words “sisterinlaw” made Bernard’s face go pale and his mouth wide in disbelief. “Wait… what? Dad, did you just call her my sisterinlaw?”

Terrence picked up the conversation smoothly. “Yeah, Bernard. I’m your older cousin, and I’m going to marry Gretchen soon. That makes her your future sisterinlaw.”

Reinhold stroked his beard and gave a satisfied smile. “Well, well, this works out perfectly. Gigi, I remember you studied finance, didn’t you? You and Terrence really are a great match!”

Terrence’s gaze softened as he looked at Gretchen. “From now on, Gretchen, you can just do what you enjoy. As for the business side of things, you can take charge if you want, or leave it to me if you don’t. No need to push yourself too hard.”

That warm look in his eyes made Gretchen’s eyes start to sting.

Bernard, however, suddenly shouted, “No, this isn’t happening!”

Reinhold’s bright expression now darkened again. “Bernard! Stop acting like a fool in front of me and your older cousin! This isn’t your place to talk!”

But Bernard still muttered to himself in disbelief. “This is impossible! She was supposed to marry me! Gretchen, say something!”

Gretchen raised her eyes to look at the face she had loved for so many years, a face she had now let go of.

“I’m marrying your cousin. From now on, please address me as your future sisterinlaw.”

Suddenly, Bernard grabbed a glass and smashed it against the floor.

“Whoah, Gretchen, you’ve really got some nerve, huh?! You lied to me, and now you’ve tricked my family too! You and my cousin have no connection whatsoever, and yet you’re clinging to him like this? What a shameless slut you are!”

That made Reinhold’s face turn pale as a sheet with fury. “You bastard! Shut your mouth!”

Terrence stood up, his sharp eyes flashing behind his glasses. “Bernard, let me make this clear.”

“I, Terrence, will be engaged to Gretchen in three days. The wedding date will be decided later. You’ll get an invitation. Make sure you show up.”