My Adoptive Brother Betrayed Me, So I Married His Worst Enemy

"Cecelia Graham has come around. She’s learned her lesson. She won’t challenge anyone again," the instructor reported, expression stern.

The girl beside him stood with her shoulders trembling slightly, gripping the worn fabric of her loose uniform pants like it was the only thing holding her together. All she wanted was to get out of that place.

"Looks like sending you away worked." The cold voice made the girl go rigid, hurt flashing across her face. The speaker was Marshall Robinson, the man who had taken her in and raised her like a younger sister—a man whose influence reached into every corner of the city, and the one who had sent her to the institution.

Marshall had an air of refined charm: deep-set eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses, a straight, sharply defined nose, and lips that always curved into a faint, deceptively gentle smile. A decade ago, after her parents died and left her alone at ten, her uncle’s family turned their backs on her.

In her despair, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders. It was so comforting that it stopped her tears. She followed Marshall home. He took care of her schooling, attended parent-teacher meetings, and showered her with extravagant gifts—jewelry, real estate, and more.

Under his protection, she became the most cherished young woman in the city. But when she turned twenty, she learned of his engagement to Margot Cook. She fell apart when she found out—and he sent her away.

How foolish she’d been to think she could fall in love with the man who had raised her like a sister without consequences.

Suddenly, a hand shoved her forward. She stumbled toward the car, eyes widening in panic. She dreaded the moment she’d land in Marshall’s embrace—but then his voice cut sharply through the air.

"Cecelia!"

Her wrist was gripped so tightly the bones nearly crushed. Pain sent cold sweat down her spine.

"Marshall… I didn’t mean to. I tripped, I swear!"

"I swear I won’t ever be so… defiant again!" It was those very words that had condemned her to a year of inhumane torment.

Hot tears scalded Marshall’s hand. Instinctively, he let go. As the car door closed, Cecelia huddled in a corner, shaking with anxiety.

"Margot was right," Marshall observed. "Sending you there has set you on the right path." He could see the change in Cecelia—she had never admitted to any wrongdoing before. Yet as he watched her timidly avoid his gaze, an inexplicable heaviness settled in his chest.

The phone rang, distracting him from the pale girl beside him. He assured the person on the other end that he’d be at the hotel soon. The car pulled up to the grand Celestial Hotel, named in her honor.

Outside, luxury cars lined the streets, and large wedding portraits of Marshall and Margot were on display. He had brought her back so she could witness the wedding herself, hoping to make her finally abandon her illusions.

But after all she had endured, how could she still harbor any hope?

"Margot wants you to be her bridesmaid. Can you manage that?" Marshall’s eyes darkened with impatience at her lack of response.

"Fine," Cecelia agreed quietly, knowing it was the only way to keep Margot from making her life even worse.

"You and Mr. Green go change now. I have things to handle," Marshall instructed, glancing at her oversized, worn-out clothes and feeling a measure of relief.

In the dressing room, Cecelia changed into a champagne-colored bridesmaid dress. She closed her eyes, mustering the courage to join Mr. Green and proceed to the ceremony.

As soon as they entered the ballroom, the room buzzed with congratulations.

"Wow, Ms. Cook looks stunning today, doesn’t she? She and Mr. Robinson are a perfect match," one guest remarked.

"Indeed. The Robinson and Cook families joining forces is a power move. An orphan from the Grahams doesn’t stand a chance now," another whispered.

"It’s been a year now. I wonder how Cecelia managed in that institution," someone else chuckled.

"Heh. Without Mr. Robinson’s protection, what choice did she have but to keep her head down under those harsh instructors?" another sneered.

"Watch your mouth. Ms. Graham used to be quite the rebel, challenging everyone. She might overhear you," a voice warned.

Cecelia barely reacted to the laughter. She was numb to it, as if she were hearing the voices of those instructors again. She had learned to blame herself. She should never have mistaken Marshall’s favor for something special.

"Cecelia Graham, how dare you show your face here!" a voice yelled behind her. Before she could react, a hard shove sent her crashing into the champagne tower.

With a clatter, a cascade of champagne flutes toppled around her, leaving the floor and her in a soaked mess. The one responsible was Romina Elliott—Margot’s best friend and Cecelia’s own cousin.

Onlookers gathered quickly, their expressions filled with glee at the unfolding drama.

"You troublemaker. What nerve do you have, coming back? Do you think everyone’s forgotten your antics from last year?" Romina taunted viciously.

Cecelia kept her head down, her hair dripping, the dress clinging to her frail frame.

Marshall frowned at the sight and swiftly moved through the crowd. "Did you do this?" he asked coldly.

Seeing Marshall still defending Cecelia made Romina uneasy. She quickly retorted, "Mr. Robinson, I barely touched her. She’s trying to ruin Margot’s wedding again, and I got mad and lashed out. That’s all."

Ruin the wedding? Cecelia’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. There was no way she could deny Romina’s accusations.

A year ago, when she learned of Marshall and Margot’s engagement, she had spiraled in despair and lashed out at everyone around her. Margot had stabbed herself and framed Cecelia, which led Marshall to send her away to the institution. Nobody believed Cecelia then—not even Marshall.

Now, with her past against her, there was no hope of anyone believing her.

Marshall looked at her silently, his eyes darkening. "Still haven’t learned your place?" he murmured. The storm brewing in his voice made her pulse race with fear. She knew too well what disobedience would result in.

"I didn’t do anything," she whispered, trembling. She couldn’t bear to be sent back to that dreadful place.

"You’re lying. You’re not new to sabotaging Margot’s weddings. Last time you stabbed her. Now you’re pulling some self-harm stunt?" Romina added fuel to the fire, a smug smile on her lips.

"Enough," Marshall barked, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to Cecelia. The room fell silent. Even Romina was subdued.

Cecelia stood frozen, bewildered, until a woman’s voice rang out.

"Marshall, what happened?" Margot inquired, a victorious smile playing on her lips as she approached. "Oh, it’s little Cecelia! Don’t worry about the dress. I have a spare bridesmaid gown. I’ll help you change."

Cecelia wanted to pull away but was forcibly led forward by Margot, right past Marshall.

As they walked, Margot’s voice lowered to a chilling whisper. "Why didn’t you just disappear in there?"

Cecelia stiffened, horrified by the malice in her words.

"Do you want to go back to the institution and experience the instructors’ new… methods?" Margot continued, her words conjuring up horrifying memories.

White with fear, Cecelia used all her strength to break free, crying out, "Don’t touch me!"

There was a scream as Margot fell to the floor.