Forbidden: My Husband's Brother

Secrets

REYNA'S POV

I waited until I heard the front door shut behind Nicholas. The sound echoed through the quiet house, and for a moment, I just stood there, holding my breath. It felt strange that I could breathe easier only after he left. Maybe that said something about us… or maybe it just said something about the life I had stepped into.

Either way, the moment he was gone, a hard push moved through me.

Enough waiting. Enough pretending. Enough letting fear sit on my chest like a weight.

I was done being passive.

I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to calm down, but the truth was I already knew what I wanted to do. I had known it since I woke before dawn again, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Jeremy, of Jessica, of the night everything fell apart. Of all the things that didn’t add up. My stomach had been tight for days, and it wasn’t stress, it was instinct.

Something wasn’t right. And no one was going to tell me the truth unless I looked for it myself.

I took a deep breath and walked toward Jeremy’s old room.

Nicholas had never told me to stay away from it. He had handed me a box of Jeremy’s things months ago, but he never said much about the rest. He didn’t talk about his brother at all unless he had no choice. His mother and aunt didn’t talk to me at all, which was its own thing.

I reached the door and hesitated.

Jeremy’s room had always felt frozen in time. Like he could walk back in any second and complain about his tie or laugh at something dumb I said. I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, breathing slow.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Just look. Just start.”

The door creaked when I pushed it open.

The room smelled faintly like dust and old cologne. Not strong, but enough to pull memories I had spent months trying to forget. His shirts were still hanging on the left side of the closet. His books were still stacked on the small shelf near the window. The bed was made, but not perfectly. As if someone had straightened it without really looking.

I stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind me.

The silence felt heavy.

I walked to the drawer Nicholas had once said I could check if I needed anything of Jeremy’s. My fingers shook a little as I pulled it open. Some old notebooks sat inside, an old wallet, and a few random things. I picked up the wallet first. Nothing strange, just cards, a few receipts, small notes he must have scribbled.

Then something caught my eye. A folded paper, sticking out from a side pocket.

I pulled it out and opened it. At first, I thought it was just another receipt. But when I looked closer, my breath slowed.

A bank withdrawal slip. A large one. A very large one. Money that Jeremy never mentioned taking. Money he had no reason to take.

I ran my thumb over the numbers, feeling cold. Why would he take out that kind of money and never talk about it? And the date… My heart thumped against my ribs.

It was the day before he died. My stomach twisted.

I sat slowly on the edge of the bed, holding the paper like it might burn me. I tried to think of every conversation we had that week. Every normal moment. Every joke. Every kiss. And nothing, nothing, pointed to him needing or wanting to withdraw that much cash.

Unless someone asked him to. Or unless he was planning something he couldn’t tell me.

I didn’t know which one scared me more.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the receipt and rubbing the corner of it between my fingers. A small part of me wanted to stop, to close everything and walk away. Pretend I never saw this.

But that wasn’t me anymore. I stood again and kept searching.

The next thing I reached for was a small metal box under his books. It took some tugging to pull it out. Inside were old photos, some letters, a few drawings his niece had made years ago. I smiled a little at those, Jeremy had always kept everything kids gave him.

But then, near the bottom, I found something else. Another receipt.

This time for a restaurant, one he always said he hated. He used to joke about it, saying the food tasted like “sad air and old oil.” Yet here was proof he went there. And again, the date bothered me.

Two days before his death.

“So why lie?” I whispered.

I held the slip to my chest and took a deep breath. My pulse hammered in my ears.

Something was wrong. And it wasn’t small. This wasn’t just grief making things blurry. This was real.

I put the papers aside and turned toward the closet next. Jeremy had been messy at times, so I didn’t expect any order. I pushed his jackets aside, checking the pockets. Nothing. I bent to look at a box tucked behind his shoes when the door suddenly opened behind me.

I froze. My heart jumped to my throat.

“Mrs. Hall?”

I jerked up so fast I hit my shoulder on the open closet door. I turned, breath caught halfway, and saw Marcus standing in the doorway. Nicholas’s assistant. His tie was a little crooked, like he had rushed in.

“Marcus,” I breathed out, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

He stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him, eyes scanning the room, then coming back to me. He didn’t look angry. But he looked… cautious.

“I knocked twice,” he said gently. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh.” My voice came out small. I cleared my throat. “I...I didn’t hear you. I was… looking for something.”

His eyes dropped to the papers on the bed.

I quickly moved a step, as if I could shield them.

But he didn’t reach for them. He didn’t move closer.

He just looked at me with this slow, sad understanding that made my throat tighten.

“Mrs. Hall,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to explain to me.”

I frowned a little. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

But his tone, it was careful. Like he didn’t want to spook me. Or maybe like he didn’t want to get in trouble.

I swallowed. “If you’re going to tell Nicholas...”

“I’m not.” He shook his head fast. “I’m not here to report you.”

We stared at each other for a long moment. I could hear my heartbeat again, loud and sharp. He glanced at the bed once more, then back at me.

“If you’re looking for answers about Mr. Jeremy…” he said, lowering his voice even more, “…you’re not the only one who thinks something was wrong about his death.”

I felt the room tilt a little. My fingers curled at my sides.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

Marcus stepped closer, not too close, but enough that I could see the worry in his eyes.

“I worked for both brothers,” he said. “I saw things. I heard things. And after it happened… some things didn’t sit right with me.”

My breath hitched. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because this house,” he said slowly, eyes shifting to the walls like they could hear him, “is not an easy place to speak your mind. And I’m loyal to Mr. Nicholas. I always have been. But…” He took a shaky breath. “I also respected Mr. Jeremy.”

My chest tightened at the past tense.

“So you think... what? That he didn’t die the way they said?” I asked softly.

Marcus didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened. His hands moved behind his back, a habit he had when he was nervous.

“I think,” he said carefully, “that Jeremy was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. And I think someone else was involved too. Someone who didn’t want anyone asking questions.”

A cold wave moved through my body.

“Who?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said quickly. “But I saw him arguing with someone on the phone three days before he died. He sounded… afraid.”

Afraid. Jeremy never sounded afraid. My legs felt weak.

Marcus looked at the papers in my hand. “Whatever you found… keep it hidden. Don’t leave it here.”

My voice shook a little. “Are you saying I’m in danger?”

“I’m saying be careful,” he replied. “This family keeps secrets. And not all of them are harmless.”

He stepped back toward the door, but before leaving, he turned to me again.

“If you want my help,” he said quietly, “I’ll help you. But we do this quietly. Very quietly.”

I nodded slowly, my heart racing so hard it hurt. “Okay.”

Marcus gave me a small nod and slipped out of the room. I stood there alone again, staring at the door, breath uneven.

I looked down at the papers in my hand, proof that Jeremy had been hiding something. Proof that his last days weren’t as simple as everyone claimed.

My fingers tightened around them. I wasn’t imagining things. I wasn’t crazy. And now I wasn’t alone. This was just the beginning. And I wasn’t backing down.