My Groom Traded Me At The Altar To His Ruthless Brother—Until I Discovered The Dark Secret In Our Marriage Contract!

The surgical waiting room at the private clinic on Lake Shore Drive smelled of antiseptic and lingering terror. For four agonizing hours, I paced the polished linoleum floors in my blood-stained clothes, refusing coffee, refusing to sit, and ignoring every call from my frantic parents. Mateo stood silently by the door like an unmovable sentinel, watching me with growing reverence.

At four in the morning, the heavy double doors finally swung open. The chief surgeon, a man on the Moretti payroll for over two decades, pulled down his blue surgical mask.

""Mrs. Moretti?""

""Is he alive?"" I demanded, my voice raw.

""The bullet passed cleanly through the subclavicular muscle, missing the main artery by less than two centimeters,"" the surgeon reported, letting out an exhausted sigh. ""He lost a significant amount of blood, and the trauma aggravated his old spinal injuries, but Gabriel has the constitution of an iron ox. He’s in recovery. He's stable.""

A massive shudder ran through my entire body, the relief hitting me with such force that my knees gave out. Mateo caught my arm before I hit the floor, gently steering me toward a chair.

""He's asking for you, ma'am,"" the doctor added with a tired smile. ""Refused the full sedative until he saw you.""

I pushed myself up, brushed away the dried tears on my cheeks, and walked steadily into the intensive care suite.

Gabriel lay in the center of the room, hooked up to monitors, his left shoulder heavily wrapped in thick white bandages. He looked battered, pale, and completely exhausted, but the moment his hazel eyes found mine, the monitor beside him gave a sudden, rapid series of beats.

I walked to the edge of the bed, crossing my arms to hide my trembling hands. ""You look terrible.""

""You look... remarkably intimidating with blood on your clothes,"" he croaked out, his voice rough from the breathing tube they had recently removed.

""It’s your blood, you reckless brute,"" I said, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice any longer. I reached out and took his right hand, wrapping both of mine around his large, calloused fingers. ""You scared me to death.""

Gabriel squeezed my fingers with surprising strength. ""I heard what you said in the warehouse. About the ugly furniture.""

""I meant every word.""

""Claire..."" His expression turned intensely serious, the playful tone vanishing completely. ""When I saw that gun pointed at you, I didn't think about the family, or the treaty, or the shipping lanes. I only knew that if anything happened to you in that dark room, my life was over anyway. I didn't marry you because Luke threw you away. I married you because from the moment you walked into that church, you were the only real thing in this rotten empire.""

Tears blurred my vision again, but this time they were warm, healing tears. I leaned over the bed, carefully avoiding his wounded shoulder, and gently pressed my lips against his. The kiss was soft, lingering, and filled with a passionate certainty that obliterated the ghosts of the past three weeks.

""Get some sleep, Gabriel,"" I whispered against his cheek. ""I have a meeting to handle at our house.""