Marrying My Sister’s Husband Novel – After my sister died, I married her husband, Nick Ambrose. That made me the stepmom to my five-year-old nephew, Jayden Ambrose. On my birthday, I accidentally wore one of my late sister’s dresses. In front of everyone, five-year-old Jayden threw my birthday cake straight into my face. He looked down at me, covered in frosting, with the same cold, emotionless stare as his father. “Don’t think you can replace my mom just because you married into the Ambrose Family,” he sneered.
“You gold-digging tramp.” Then his voice dropped into something darker, hateful. “I wish it had been you who died. Then, we’d be lighting candles for your memorial… not your damn birthday.” “I swear, when I grow up, the first thing I’m doing is kicking you out of this house!” The cake, overly sweet with extra frosting, slid toward the corner of my mouth, but all I tasted was bitterness. I stared at the little boy I had raised with my own hands and, strangely, I just felt… done.
If a child doesn’t love you, maybe it’s time to let go. But after I left, both Nick and Jayden came crawling back, full of regret, begging me to forgive them.“Aria, are you sure about divorcing Nick?” Mrs. Fusco asked me over the phone, her voice full of concern. “Jayden’s still so young. He needs you.” I stood at the stove, one hand braced on the counter and replied calmly, “I married Nick because of the agreement. Jayden’s five now—he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need me anymore.” I owed Mrs.
Fusco a huge debt. To repay her kindness, I agreed to a five-year marriage contract. Five years of playing house, acting like the perfect Ambrose wife, taking care of Nick and his son. But the contract ends tomorrow. I’m finally free. Before she could respond, I felt a sharp sting on my forehead. Something hard hit me. A rock clattered onto the tiled floor. My hands flew up to cover the gash. Blood trickled down my face as I turned to see Jayden standing just outside the window.
His arms were crossed, eyes narrowed with disdain. “Snitching to Grandma again? Looks like that little lesson I gave you wasn’t enough. I should be sending you to the ground, keep my mom a company!” I stared at him, stunned, as everything from an hour ago came rushing back. It was my twenty-fifth birthday. I’d never celebrated one before, so I treated myself to a small cake. But I accidentally wore my late sister’s dress and the sight of it sent Jayden into a rage.
He snatched the cake and scrawled “RIP” across it with black paint. Then, for the final touch, he stuck white chrysanthemums on top—flowers meant for the dead. My birthday cake had turned into a funeral offering. He laughed, delighted with his work. “You think you deserve a birthday? If it weren’t for you, my mom wouldn’t be dead.
And would have a broken family. Remember this: from now on, today isn’t your birthday—it’s your death day.” Then, with everyone watching, he slammed the cake into my face and ruined the only day I’d been looking forward to.