Brother's Blind Girlfriend is a Secret Heiress

The yacht carrying my parents and my younger brother, Dylan Marsh, exploded at sea. There were no survivors. I came home to an empty house and a mountain of debt I had no way to pay off. Numb with despair, I climbed onto the roof, ready to jump—when a stream of comments suddenly scrolled past my vision, as if I were watching myself from the outside. [Plot twist: your parents actually won three hundred million dollars in the lottery. They took your brother abroad to live it up.] [Lol, Dylan has no idea the poor, blind girlfriend he dumped is actually the eldest daughter of the Ross family. She's just been playing along, pretending to be broke.] [Once Dylan blows through all his money and comes crawling back, Celeste Ross is going to lock him in a room and make him pay for it.] [Come on, cannon fodder, jump already. Everyone's waiting for Dylan's big comeback.] I decided, right then, that I wasn't going to die after all. That night, soaked to the bone and half-drunk, I knocked on Celeste Ross's door. Chapter 1 I woke with my whole body aching, just as the sky was beginning to gray with the first light of dawn. I turned my head. Celeste Ross opened her eyes at the exact same moment. She was blind—had been ever since a car accident six months earlier had taken her sight. My younger brother, Dylan Marsh, had resented her for it, calling her poor and disabled, and had tried to break up with her more times than I could count. Her eyes, however lovely, never used to focus on anything. They just drifted, empty, toward some point in the middle distance. But for one disorienting second just now, I could have sworn she was looking straight at me. Then, just as quickly, the blankness slid back over her expression. "Dylan?" she rasped. "Is that you?" [Hold on, what's going on? The cannon fodder didn't die?! Why is he in bed with Celeste?] [I'm furious. Don't tell me he's trying to pass himself off as her boyfriend? Her eyesight came back ages ago. If he tries to fool her, he is going to regret it.] So she really could see. She'd been able to see this whole time. I fought to steady my racing heart and made my voice come out flustered. "I'm sorry. I—I'm his older brother. Anders. Anders Marsh. "My brother... he passed away. "I meant to bring you some of his things yesterday, but I got drunk, and after that, I don't remember anything." I glanced at the clothes torn to shreds on the floor and looked away, embarrassed. "Did you mistake me for him yesterday? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been drinking, but I—I was so broken up over it. I don't have anyone left now." My voice cracked on the last words, and I let it. [God, he's pathetic, still making excuses for her like an idiot. She's not actually blind. I saw her face the second he grabbed her last night, soaking wet—she lit right up.] [Being hugged by a gorgeous, soaked-through guy putting on his best kicked-puppy face? What woman could resist that? This guy's a professional heartbreaker.] I turned away, looking suitably ashamed. The thin blanket slipped down my back, baring the red marks—bites, scratches—scored across broad shoulders. Celeste took a slow breath. It was a while before she spoke. "It's fine. I mistook you for Dylan too." I picked my clothes up off the floor and got dressed. Behind me, I could feel her gaze studying me, thoughtful. I pretended not to notice. "Since that's settled, let's just say none of this happened. I'll get going. Don't let yourself get too upset." On my way out, I tripped over something on the floor and nearly went down. Celeste caught my arm to steady me. The instant her fingers brushed my wrist, I flinched. [Celeste won't be upset, trust me. She's already found out Dylan faked his own death.] [Even the debt collectors were hers. Driving Anders to the edge was just her first warning shot at Dylan.] [Dylan has no idea his own house has already been robbed out from under him.] [I'm so mad right now. This Anders guy, this cannon fodder, needs to just die already.] I kept my head down and walked out fast. Chapter 2 When I got back, the debt collectors who'd been circling around downstairs were gone. My stomach dropped. So it really had been Celeste who'd sent them. I shut the door behind me and slid down against it, exhausted. I hadn't actually been drunk, of course. I'd only meant to scrape together some sympathy from Celeste, get her to go easy on me. I hadn't expected her to react the way she had—dragging me through an entire night of it. I smiled. Celeste had lost her sight in a car accident, hurt while saving Dylan's life. But once she became "disabled," he hadn't wanted to look at her twice. He never answered her texts. He left her standing out in the rain for three hours one winter night while he video-chatted with some other girl upstairs. He called her gifts cheap and threw them in the trash right in front of her. I used to think she deserved better than that. Now, I figured it was all just a rich girl's little game. [I don't see anything wrong with what Dylan did. Who wants a blind, broke girlfriend when they could have money instead? Even if Celeste wanted to test him, this whole charade was pointless.] [Honestly, sure, Dylan's selfish, but the guy's just lucky. Once he and Celeste made up, she gave him shares in the company, a mansion, and catered to his every whim. He's basically living the dream.] [Exactly. Good men get a reputation. Bad men get everything.] Reading that, all I felt was disgust. My parents had always favored Dylan. He took my toys, my clothes, my scholarship money. Once I started working, I stayed late every night, and they took my paycheck and handed it to him to blow on parties and girls. I was supposed to prop him up, hand him everything on a platter. And now, they'd won three hundred million dollars in the lottery. Not only had they abandoned me without a word, they'd left me holding a mountain of debt and were using my life as a stepping stone to build his. Why did he get everything, while I was left to die with nowhere even to be buried? Resentment coiled around my heart like ivy, tightening. I'd spent my whole life picking up whatever Dylan didn't want. If Celeste was something he'd thrown away too, then I'd pick her up as well. … I ran into Celeste again sooner than I expected. I'd just come off a shift at the hotel where I worked part-time, dead on my feet, when I looked up and saw her across the street. Big sunglasses, a white cane in hand, making her slow way down the tactile paving. The idle rich really did have a boundless capacity for boredom. Dylan was long gone, and the great Miss Ross was still out here playing her part like she'd never get tired of it. A man not far off seemed to recognize her too, and was making his way toward her with a fawning smile. I shouted her name—"Celeste!"—and ran to her side. Before she could say a word, I grabbed her wrist. "Come with me." I talked fast, my voice low. "I saw a man walking toward you with bad intentions. He's probably here to collect a debt. "My brother borrowed a lot of money before he died. You're his girlfriend—they're going to come after you. You can't see them coming. It's dangerous. "You got hurt saving him. Let me protect you in his place. I promise you, as long as I'm alive, I won't let them hurt you. I'll never abandon you." I sounded so sincere I might even have fooled myself. "Will you trust me?" Something in what I'd said seemed to reach her. Celeste hesitated, then let her steps go slack, allowing me to lead her wherever I wanted. I took her home. And true to what I'd promised her, I threw myself into treating her well. When her stomach ached, I got up before dawn to go buy her medicine. Since she couldn't "see," I took her hand again and again, guiding her fingers over every object in the house until she knew them all by feel. I went hungry so I could save enough to take her back for another eye exam, even as my own stomach cramped with hunger. Through all of it, Celeste watched me with the same detached expression, sometimes with the faintest trace of mockery in her eyes. At the hospital, the doctor shook his head—no improvement. My disappointment must have shown plainly on my face. Walking out of the exam room, Celeste let out a short laugh. "I heard you sigh. Is it really that serious? I'm the one who's blind, not you. What is there for you to be upset about?" I stopped walking and cupped her face in my hands. For one unguarded second, real shock flickered across her expression before she could hide it. "You matter to me," I said, studying her eyes with real focus. "So when you hurt, I hurt too. Your eyes are beautiful. I'm not giving up on them." Celeste pressed her lips together, watching me with an unreadable expression. My own face was a picture of sorrow, though I forced a smile into my voice. "I mean it. I keep thinking—I'd do anything for you to be able to see again." Back at the house, my eyes still red, I poured her a glass of water and spilled half of it down my front. The thin fabric of my shirt went transparent where it clung to me, outlining a lean waist and the faint shadow of abs underneath. Something shifted in Celeste's gaze. I noticed the change immediately. Carefully, I drew her closer and kissed her, testing the waters. She went still for two seconds—then, to my surprise, kissed me back. The next morning, I woke to find Celeste already up and dressed. She tossed a watch onto the bed beside me. "Picked it up off a street vendor. Not worth much, but it's nice-looking. It's yours now." [I give up. How did Celeste end up tangled up with this cannon fodder? Does she even know Dylan's been conned into gambling and he's in real danger right now?] [Isn't that the one-of-a-kind Patek Philippe from the auction? Why is she giving it to this cannon fodder? That was obviously supposed to be the peace offering she gives Dylan after locking him in that room made him furious!] [Something's wrong with this guy. Who told him he could put his hands on Dylan's girl!] I ignored the hysterical insults and stared, stunned, at the piece in my hand. A one-of-a-kind Patek Philippe. That had to be worth a fortune. If I sold it, would the rest of my life finally be secure? Right then, more comments rolled in. [Don't worry about the earlier comments. Can't you tell Celeste's already planning to dump this cannon fodder?] [Her dad heard she's been running wild all year and he's furious. He's ordered her home.] [Celeste's worried this cannon fodder won't let go, so she's staging a whole scene—having herself "kidnapped," then thrown into the sea right in front of him, to kill any hope he has for good.] [This idiot's still dreaming. Can't he see the way she looks at him—like a dog she's about to abandon?] Celeste was going back? My grip tightened around the watch. Suddenly, none of it felt like enough. I'd spent all these days playing my part flawlessly, and all I had to show for it was a watch. Dylan didn't have to do anything at all. All he had to do was come back, and he'd have everything handed to him. That wasn't fair. Chapter 3 That afternoon, Celeste told me she had to go out alone and that I shouldn't follow her. I let her think I had no idea what she was up to. Not long after, my phone rang. "Anders Marsh?" a voice said. "People who don't pay their debts have to pay some other way. Celeste Ross is in my hands right now. If you don't want her dead, get to this address." By the time I got there, breathless, I could see Celeste's back. She was tied to the railing of an abandoned cargo ship, her hands bound behind her. The kidnapper flashed me a nasty grin. "I gave you twenty minutes. You're too late. She's out of chances." She cut the rope right in front of me. Celeste, wrists still bound, dropped straight into the sea. My eyes went wide. A second later, I was moving without thinking and threw myself in after her. The water was ice, a cold that cut straight to the bone, and everything went dark and hazy in front of me. Through the murk, I caught a glimpse of "Celeste's" shape wriggling free of the ropes, swimming for shore with easy, practiced strokes. I laughed bitterly to myself. Whatever stand-in Celeste had hired, they hadn't even bothered to make her look the part. But I jumped in anyway, without hesitation. Because I was betting on a possibility. Staking my life on it. I was betting I could win. The water was so cold that I lost my strength fast, sinking slowly toward the bottom. Just as I was sure I'd lost the bet, a shape hit the water beside me with a cry, and dove down after me. I forced my eyes open one last time. The final thing I saw was an expression I'd never once seen on Celeste's face before—panic. … When I woke up in the hospital, cold had settled into every part of me, all the way to the bone. Celeste stood by the bed, looking down at me while I drifted in and out, her expression a tangle of things I couldn't read. "Anders, do you really care about me that much? Enough to throw away your own life to save mine?" That was the moment I opened my eyes. We held each other's gaze for two seconds. Then I turned my head away. My voice came out weak but certain. "Celeste. Let's end this." Her gaze sharpened. "What did you say?" I looked away from her. "Your eyes have been fine for a while now. Why lie to me about it? If you don't need me anymore, I'll go on my own. If you don't like me, just say so. I'm not the type to cling to someone who doesn't want me." Celeste's mouth opened, then closed. "That's not what I meant." She stared at my pale face like she'd come to some decision. "Anders, I'm pregnant. I wasn't planning on keeping it, but I've changed my mind. Let's get married." My eyes went wide with shock. I did the math in my head—it had to have happened the first time we'd been together. My eyes stung, and I started to swing my legs off the bed. "If this is my fault, then I'll take responsibility for it, all the way through. I'll check myself out right now and go find work. I swear, until the day I die, I won't let you or our child go without." Celeste stopped me and pulled out her phone. A few quiet seconds later, my own phone buzzed with a text. Five million dollars, deposited. Celeste walked over and pressed my hand to her stomach. "You don't need to do any of that. Our child is going to be the happiest child in the world." I listened to her lay everything bare, my face full of shock. What no one could see was my hand shaking under the blanket—not from fear, but from something closer to triumph. I'd won the bet. I moved into Celeste's family estate. The Rosses were even wealthier than I'd imagined—even a random decoration in that house cost more than I could have earned in a lifetime of work. Cared for around the clock by household staff, Celeste gave birth safely a few months later. Her parents had reservations about me at first, but the moment they laid eyes on their cute, healthy grandson, their attitude softened. They wired me a hundred million dollars to cover my day-to-day expenses. The moment our son was born, several properties were put in his name. Celeste stayed busy, so she left me to manage them on her behalf. I counted the balance in my account night after night, so pleased I laughed in my sleep. When our son was seven months old, I made a trip back to the old house to deal with some things I'd left behind. On my way out, someone grabbed the back of my shirt and slapped my face. "Where the hell have you been! Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?" It was my mother. Her hair was a mess, her face filthy, and she glared at me with pure hatred. Behind her stood my father, just as disheveled, and Dylan. Dylan looked me up and down, and something flickered behind his eyes—shock, and envy. Then he stepped forward, grinning, and threw an arm over my shoulders. "Hey, big brother. Did you land yourself a rich girlfriend or something? Guess your luck's just better than mine. I kept getting stuck with a poor, blind woman who wouldn't stop clinging to me. Good thing I dumped her a long time ago. "Now that we've survived our brush with death, why don't you introduce us to my sister-in-law?" He ran his fingers over the expensive watch on my wrist, practically giddy. I knew exactly what he was doing. Trying to take something else of mine. He'd been doing it my whole life. My cheek still burned from the punch. I looked past them, over their shoulders. Celeste had just pulled up and parked, arriving in time to catch every word of it. I let one corner of my mouth curve up. "No need. She's already here."