My Husband Saved My Cousin Instead of Me Chapter 03

My Husband Saved My Cousin Instead of Me Chapter 03

I stood up to leave right then. My parents laid into me for being childish. “You’re a married woman, for God’s sake. Stop with the drama.

Gavin snapped back to reality and rushed to explain he’d been swamped and zoned out. A careless mistake, he said.

Cecilia took a delicate sip of red wine, every movement graceful and composed. “Sage, you’re still such a drama queen. Adorable.”

That single sentence made me look completely unhinged. But what none of them understood was that the drama queen act was never a choice. It was survival. If I didn’t fight and scream, everything would always belong to Cecilia.

Only when I cried and made a scene would my parents get annoyed enough to toss me a crumb of what should’ve been mine in the first place.

And they always had to add, “You’re not as pretty as Cecilia, and you’ve got an attitude problem on top of it.”

Cecilia inherited my aunt Cordelia’s drop-dead gorgeous looks—flawless skin, that stunning swan-like neck, a natural magnetism. Anyone standing next to her faded into the background.

When a goddess walks among regular people, the best of everything gets handed to her before she even opens her mouth.

Yet she was never satisfied. She had to have everything I had. The sunny bedroom, the dance classes, the expensive dresses, the elite instructors…

My parents even sold our house and kept another property just to rent out, all to bankroll her training abroad. That’s why I refused to be the good girl.

I clawed and fought for my parents’ approval so desperately because being invisible was worse.

And that’s how I survived—by being a relentless problem. It was the only way I ever got anything. I kicked and screamed until they finally threw enough money at me to cover tuition. That’s how I made it into my dream school. That’s where I met Gavin.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light. Gavin slipped off his jacket, probably worried I’d catch a chill, and draped it over me. I pretended to shift in my sleep and let it slide right off onto the floor.

All the way home, a stubborn, burning gaze kept flicking toward me. Finally, he couldn’t take it. His voice came out hoarse. “Sage, you’re faking it.”

I let out an awkward laugh. “Guess you caught me.”

Gavin’s expression didn’t soften. He just stared at me with this gutted look.

When we first met, his uncles were at war for control of the West Group.

I stood by him and helped him win over his grandfather, Reginald West, the man with the final vote.

We told each other everything. The hell we went through together—it built the kind of trust you don’t walk away from. Once, I even tested him with a joke. “Gavin, what if there comes a day when we can’t even talk? Would that be it for us?”

He sealed my lips with a kiss that stole my breath and didn’t let me get out another syllable. So right then, he told me, “Sage, you can’t do this.”

You can’t fake sleep. You can’t stop fighting and making noise. And you absolutely cannot bring up divorce.

I lifted my eyes, indifferent. “Can’t do what?”

My gaze was so flat it choked the words right out of his throat.