The Game of Marriage, The Entanglement of Love

Three years ago, my younger sister and I secretly married the two brothers of the Cain Family.

I married the CEO, while she married the vice president.

Before my father passed away, he traveled three days in hardseat train just to attend our wedding.

I knelt at the Cain Family’s door, refusing to eat or drink for two days, begging Clifford to go along with the act. He finally agreed.

But when it was time for him to show up, I screamed until my throat was raw and still, there was no sign of him.

His brother Adrian didn’t show either.

My father was so anxious he collapsed on the spot and my sister knelt beside him, sobbing uncontrollably.

Trembling, I called Clifford, but he hung up three times before finally answering.

Sensing the desperation in my voice, he cut me off, his tone sharp with irritation. "You’re always using your dad as an excuse. I already promised, why would I back out? Tere’s hand is bleeding and I need to get her to the hospital! She got hurt because of you! Can you stop causing trouble at a time like this?"

Before I could respond, the call ended and he blocked me.

Upon hearing this, my sister frantically called her husband, Adrian Cain, pleading through her tears for him to come to the wedding.

But instead, she was met with a barrage of anger,

"Have you never heard of 'the boy who cried wolf'? Why is it that every time something happens to Tere, your dad magically falls apart? You might not be done with this act, but I’m over it! I still have hospital bills to pay—don’t waste my time!"

The moment the call ended, our father took his last breath, lying on the floor.

Our wedding turned into his funeral.

My sister and I handled all the arrangements together.

We also sent messages to the Cain brothers, informing them of our decision to divorce.

But instead of any response, they returned to our home with Tere Jules in tow.

By the time we finished the funeral, it was already nightfall.

My sister and I went back home and only then, exhausted, could we help each other out of the cheap rental wedding dresses.

It had been ten hours since I sent the divorce messages.

Still no reply.

This wasn’t the first time they had abandoned us for Tere.

I never expected that even when it came to divorce, we would have to wait in line behind their precious "goddess."

In the three years of our marriage, whenever it was just the two of us, Tere always seemed to have some sort of "accident."

If it wasn’t a leaky pipe, it was the gas stove refusing to ignite.

Small, everyday problems—yet when they happened to Tere, they were treated like catastrophic disasters by the Cain brothers.

My sister had come to me for help countless times.

At first, I questioned it and I even fought over it, but over time, the truth became painfully clear: our place in their lives was decided the moment we entered these secret marriages.

After packing up our things, along with the clothes our father left behind, my sister and I were ready to leave when they finally returned.

Tere followed obediently behind them, waiting for them to fetch her slippers.

Their playful laughter instantly stopped when they saw us.

Annoyance flashed in Clifford’s eyes as he spoke coldly, “Where are you going now? Why are you acting crazy again? Didn’t I already explain today’s situation?”

He stared at my bloodshot, exhausted eyes, completely unfazed.

His voice grew more impatient, "Come on, the wedding was just for show anyway. Tere got hurt and it happened to coincide. What do you expect me to do? I’ll just make it up to you with another one, alright?"

“And besides, if your dad hadn’t come, she wouldn’t have felt the need to make that herbal soup for him and ended up cutting her hand! I’m not even blaming you for that, so what more do you want? Enough is enough!"

Beside me, my sister clung to my hand tighter, her grip trembling.

Adrian, standing beside him, didn’t even bother to explain. He simply bent down to fetch Tere’s slippers and even helped her put them on with care.

Tere glanced at the suitcases in our hands and then turned to Clifford with a pitiful look.

"Cliff, you don’t need to say that. It was my fault for ruining your wedding. I’m the one to blame," she said, her voice soft and apologetic.

She then turned to me, her tone innocent.

“Wanda, why did you bring out your suitcases? Is Uncle planning to stay with us?"

Her voice dripped with fake concern. "I’m really sorry. I cut my hand today and it was bleeding so much. I got so scared and that’s why I called them. I had no idea they’d overreact and take me to the hospital. You know I don’t have many friends here…”

I stared at the tiny bandaid on her finger, suddenly feeling pathetic.

Ridiculous and pathetic.

“If you don’t mind, you can be the one I call in the future when something happens. Would you be my big sister? I’ve always felt such warmth from you!”

She flashed a sweet, coy smile, but her eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.

In that instant, the image of my father’s last breath flashed through my mind.

My nails dug painfully into my palm, the sharp sting keeping me grounded.

“I already have a sister,” I said coldly. “Don’t call me that.”

Clifford’s face darkened completely, his eyes brimming with anger.

"What’s with your attitude? Apologize to Tere right now! She’s hurt, yet she still tried to make that herbal soup for your dad. Do you have any idea how much effort she put into it? How could you treat her like this?"

I glanced at the thermos in his hand and let out a bitter, icy laugh.

"I've been fair to everyone, except myself. Let's get a divorce. I'm exhausted."

The anger froze on his face, disbelief filling his eyes that I was the one saying this.

My usually reserved sister, for once, mustered up the courage to speak to Adrian.

"We’re getting a divorce too," she said.

We couldn’t stand another minute in this suffocating house.

Adrian, in the middle of helping a woman change her shoes, froze. He stood up abruptly, his face full of shock.

His tone instantly shot up, filled with fury:

"What did you just say?!"

I ignored him, ready to leave with my sister after announcing the divorce.

But as we dragged our suitcases past him, Adrian grabbed my sister’s wrist.

He suddenly yanked her harshly towards him, eyes burning red with rage.

"Divorce? Just because I took Tere to the hospital and didn’t attend that fake wedding to play your stupid act? You want a divorce? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"I was saving someone! What did I do wrong? And Tere got hurt because of your father! Now you're threatening me with divorce?"

"Fine! Divorce! I’ll give you your damn divorce!"

With that, he kicked the suitcase over, stomping on it repeatedly in his fury. His neck veins bulged with anger.

I quickly pulled my sister behind me to protect her.

Already timid by nature, she trembled in fear, on the verge of breaking down in tears.

In that moment, I realized how foolish I had been to let my sister marry Adrian!

He stomped on the suitcase over and over until it finally burst open, unable to take the abuse.

Our father’s belongings spilled out across the floor.

Without even thinking, his shoe landed right on the clothes, leaving dirty footprints on the faded fabric.

A scream tore from my throat as I lunged forward, pushing him away.

"Don’t touch them! Get away!"

Clifford's expression was icecold, his voice seething with suppressed fury, laced with a clear warning.

"Wanda Lloyd, my patience with you has limits. Don’t push me again and again!"

I rushed forward to shield my father’s belongings.

The Cain brothers exchanged a glance and Adrian immediately understood. He grabbed me and my sister, pulling us away.

Clifford handed the insulated box in his hand to Tere.

Then, standing over the suitcase, he picked up a few pieces of clothing with a sneer curling on his lips before tossing them carelessly to the floor. He lit a cigarette, the lighter tight in his grip.

"Clinging to this pile of junk like it’s treasure? What are you trying to pull? Have I not fed you? Have I not clothed you?"

"You know full well the wedding was fake, so what’s the fuss now? Is a pretend wedding more important than a life?"

"I told you I’d make up for it, didn’t I? But you’re still not satisfied, are you? You love these rags, right? Fine!"

Before I could even react, he flicked the lighter and suddenly let it drop.

Flames erupted over my father’s belongings in an instant.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "No!"

I tried to rush forward, but Adrian’s hand clamped tightly around my neck, holding me back.

My usually gentle sister snapped in that moment.

Her eyes turned red and she opened her mouth, sinking her teeth deep into Adrian’s hand.

Taking advantage of his momentary release, she whipped around and slapped him hard across the face.

Everyone was stunned into silence.

Tere quickly placed the insulated box on the table and rushed over, pulling my sister into her arms.

"Don’t worry, Adrian means no harm. He just wants to resolve the issues between you two!"

But my sister, finding some sudden burst of strength, broke free from Tere’s grasp and yanked her hair.

Tere was thrown to the ground, helpless as my sister pinned her down, hitting her in a frenzy.

Her desperate cries echoed throughout the room.

Adrian had me restrained, leaving me no choice but to shout for his brother.

Seeing the chaos, Clifford’s face flushed with anger. He stormed over and grabbed my sister’s hair, forcefully dragging her off Tere.

He slammed her head against the wall, hard.

Three times.

Blood trickled down from my sister’s forehead.

I screamed until my throat burned, but could only watch as her strength faded.

In just a few minutes, the fire had reduced my father’s belongings to ashes. The floor was scarred with the indelible marks of black smoke.

An overwhelming sense of helplessness and defeat swallowed me whole.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Tears poured from my eyes and as I looked at the pile of ash on the ground, I felt my shattered heart burn away with it.

I should have known the moment he proposed the secret marriage three years ago.

My sister and I were nothing more than pawns, used to placate his family.

The only person who ever mattered to them was Tere.

But I realized it far too late.

Clifford, with disgust etched on his face, gently wiped his hand with a tissue.

Then, he went over to comfort Tere.

She sobbed pitifully for a while before Adrian finally loosened his grip on my neck.

But it wasn’t out of compassion—he was too busy handing Tere tissues.

I watched as the two Cain Family men surrounded her, their faces filled with concern and affection.

Gradually, Tere's sobbing quieted in response to their soothing voices.

In that moment, I felt utterly foolish for the past three years, pitiful even.

I lifted my foot, walking toward my sister who was slumped on the ground, my only thought being to take her away from this place.

But Tere still wouldn’t let us go.

Even though she was the one who had clearly won, as soon as I helped my sister to her feet, she walked up to us, holding a thermos container, looking aggrieved.

"Wanda, I’m sorry... I really am. I didn’t expect things to turn out this way. I know you hate me, but this is just a small gesture for Uncle. I hope you’ll accept it on his behalf..."

Slowly, I lowered my head, staring at the very person responsible for my father's death, the one who wouldn’t let him rest in peace.

In that instant, my emotions spiraled out of control.

I snatched the thermos from her hands and smashed it against her head.

The next second, thick soup spilled down her head, matting her hair into clumps. The scent of meat mixed with her shampoo, making me nauseous.

With bloodshot eyes, I roared, "Get out! Stop pretending to be kind in front of me!"

Clifford kept his gaze locked on me, a clear warning in his eyes.

At the same moment I struck, he rushed in front of me.

His leather shoe slammed into my stomach with a vicious kick.

Then he hurried to pull Tere into his arms, using his expensive shirt to wipe the soup from her head.

I crashed into the wall, my lower back hitting hard and I slid helplessly to the ground.

By the time most of the mess was wiped away, Tere's face was already soaked with tears.

Clifford tore off his soiled shirt and tossed it aside.

He stepped toward me, bending down to grip my face, squeezing so hard it felt like he was about to shatter my jawbone.

Just as he raised his hand, about to strike me, Tere spoke up through her sobs:

"Cliff, please don't be angry. This is all my fault. I saw that Uncle's plane ticket was fake and thought he’d arrive late. If I had known this would happen, I would’ve prepared the soup earlier. It's my fault for ruining your wedding. It’s normal for Wanda to be upset..."

Adrian hurriedly handed her more tissues, even thoughtfully grabbing a towel to dry her hair.

Hearing this, rage flooded my veins, my eyes bloodshot, temples throbbing.

My dad had never even flown on a plane in his entire life!

To save money for me and my sister, he had canceled his plane ticket and switched to a train.

Yet in her mouth, it became some scheming lie.

"Shut up! You have no right to talk about my dad!"

The words had barely left my mouth when Clifford slapped me across the face.

Blood seeped from my lip, a metallic taste rising in my throat.

He roared, "The one who should shut up is you! Say one more word and I'll rip your mouth apart!"

"This fake wedding was all arranged by Tere for you! What right do you have to shout at her?"

"What do you think you are? If your dad knew you used his illness over and over as an excuse to demand marriage, wouldn’t he have died from anger right on the spot?"

A crack appeared in my expression, my face twisted with hatred.

All I felt now was bitterness and mockery.

I thought of that cheap wedding and let out a cold, bitter laugh.

No wonder everything was so rushed.

From the very beginning, Tere never intended for them to attend the ceremony.

Everything that happened today had been part of her plan all along.

Seeing my silence, Clifford assumed I was feeling regret.

His voice dripped with contempt: "Tere even went out of her way to contact a wedding company to help you redo it and pulled strings with hospital experts to get your dad an appointment. But looking at you now, I don’t think it’s even necessary anymore!"

"Now, apologize to Tere immediately and then take your sister and get out of my house!"

I grabbed his arm, my voice icy as I spoke:

"Redo it? Do you even hear yourself? You could redo it a thousand times and she'd destroy it a thousand and one! Spare yourself the trouble—just go ahead and plan the next one for the three of you! My sister and I want no part of it."

"Apologize? Only when she kneels before my father and admits her guilt!"

Fury ignited in his eyes as he spat each word through clenched teeth:

"Wanda, do you really think I'm being kind to you? Are you too dense to understand plain words?"

"This sham of a wedding? You begged for it—two days and two nights on your knees! What, now you're backing out? Or are you scared people will figure out your dad’s illness was just a lie?"

"Three years ago, you said he was on his deathbed to push for marriage. Now, three years later, he's dying again and you use it to justify a wedding. Looks like your dad's got a pretty strong will to live..."

I was stunned, unable to fathom that he’d twist my father’s illness into a weapon, accusing me of manipulating him for marriage.

In that moment, my blood froze and I clenched my fists with all my strength, my knuckles trembling.

"Shut up! You’re not worthy of mentioning my dad! You’re not worthy!"

"Clifford, divorce me! Right now! I never want to see you again! You three can rot together in hell!"

Hearing me mention divorce again, he lunged forward, both hands gripping my throat.

His hold tightened and my face turned a deep shade of purple from the pressure.

Tere had just finished cleaning the leaves from her hair and seeing what was happening, she rushed over to pull Clifford's hands away.

Not wanting to defy her, Clifford finally let go just before I lost consciousness.

Tere approached me, tears brimming in her eyes, looking pitiful as ever. She bent down, reaching out to help me up, but my sister, who had just regained consciousness, shoved her aside.

The force was so strong that Tere's hand slammed against the corner of a cabinet and she let out a muffled groan of pain.

Adrian immediately pulled her into his arms, tenderly inspecting her injured hand, then turned and shouted at my sister:

"You just don't learn, do you? Looks like I've been too lenient! And now you're even threatening divorce to get your way? Fine, divorce it is! Your dad’s been putting on this sick act for three years—I'm done with it! Divorce him, let him die angry, it’s no concern of mine!"

Clifford’s face had darkened completely.

I pulled my sister to her feet, limping as we prepared to leave, when I heard him snarl through gritted teeth:

"Didn’t you hear me? Both of you, apologize to Tere!"

Everything that had just happened crushed the last shred of hope I had left.

Hearing his voice now, I could only laugh coldly. "We’re done. Who do you think you are to demand an apology? The one who should be apologizing is that wretched woman who won't even let my father rest in peace!"

"No, actually, the three of you are all disgusting. A perfect match made in hell!"

Just as I stepped toward the door, Clifford grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me back violently.

My sister tried to reach for me, panic written all over her face, but it was too late.

Clifford shoved me to my knees in front of Tere, his leather shoe digging painfully into my calf, holding me down like I was nothing.

As he pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant, he sneered, “Apologize now, or I’ll make sure your father’s funeral happens while he’s still breathing.”

The line connected and the threat in his eyes darkened.

I clenched my jaw and spit at him.

Unfazed, he snapped, “Cancel the wedding. Turn it into Wanda Lloyd’s father’s funeral. This charade has dragged on long enough—time to make it official. And cancel that hospital appointment Tere set up for him.”

The voice on the other end quickly replied, “Mr. Cain, Miss Lloyd’s father passed away this morning… during the wedding.”