My Fiancé Married My Long Lost Sister on Our Wedding Day Chapter 10

My Fiancé Married My Long Lost Sister on Our Wedding Day Chapter 10

After the coroner took me away, the house was sealed for evidence. Police opened the master bedroom door. My medical folder was buried under wedding supplies–CT scans, pathology reports, prescription records, the doctor’s critical condition notice. Everything was there.

Through the interrogation room glass, Ethan watched the officer bag the evidence. “She really had. cancer?” His voice was so unsteady it was barely audible.

No answer. “The deceased had said she was unwell multiple times. Why did you stop her from seeking help?” the officer asked.

“I thought she was faking. She said she only had three days. As a kid, she’d pretend to be sick to avoid trouble.” Ethan explained urgently. “I just wanted her to break that bad habit.”

In another room, my brother said the same thing. “We’re family. How could we hurt her? Locking the door was to keep her from running out in an emotional fit. Taking the phone was to stop her from saying things in the group chat.”

The officer slid the transcript across the table. “When she asked for an ambulance–what did you say?”

My brother stared at the line: “Just two more hours.” Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Mom was crying so hard she couldn’t stay upright. “She’s always been healthy! Any time she got a headache, I made her honey water. What mother doesn’t love her child?”

“She was diagnosed a month ago. Why didn’t she tell you?”

Silence. The day of my diagnosis, I’d called her. Sophie was trying on a dress. Mom cut me off right after I said, “The hospital results are out.“: “Not now, Sophie’s first banquet and I need to help her choose something.” That “not now” never came.

Dad said over and over that he didn’t know about medicine. “She could walk and talk–how was I supposed to know it was that bad? I wanted to give the house to the younger daughter, but the older

one could still live there.”

The officer showed him a relative’s video. On it, he said, “If you don’t sign, get out and don’t ever

set foot in this house again.”

He knocked over the paper cup on the table. “That was just anger. Every family says things in

anger.”

Sophie was the first to completely break down. When she learned drug residue had been found in the drain, she sobbed, pointing fingers at everyone. “The wedding was Ethan’s idea! The family photo was Mom’s! Dad and my brother forced her to sign! I just poured out some medicine–I

didn’t know she’d die!”

In the next room, Ethan shot up at the recording. “You said the wedding was my idea? Wasn’t it you

ying that you needed to marry me to make up for ten years of loss?”

Through the walls, their accusations bled into the hall. Mom accused Dad of forcing me to give up the house. Dad blamed my brother for taking my phone. My brother blamed Ethan for not going to. the hospital.

No one mentioned who’d noticed I’d stopped breathing first. They just argued over who should take

less blame.

Wendy sat at the end of the hall, holding my belongings–the good–luck charm I’d never gotten to give him, and the wedding ring I’d thrown away. A police officer handed her a cup of hot water. “Were there other attachments in the email?”

“Yes. She kept a diary after her diagnosis. The last entry mentioned that there might be more to the

sister’s disappearance ten years ago.

The officer opened the diary. The final line was twelve words: “Sophie let it slip–she came back ten

years ago.”

In the interrogation room, Mom’s crying stopped abruptly.