Married to the “Dying” Heiress,Now My Ex and Family Beg for Mercy

Eventually, I stopped thinking about it altogether. A man who brought his mistress and illegitimate son into the house the moment his wife died—could I really expect him to care for the child she'd left behind? Seeing my eyes redden, Julia's gaze flickered. She reached for my arm. "Joseph, are you worried that once the Gilbert heiress dies, you'll have no one to rely on? Or are you afraid of catching some disease and not being able to afford treatment?" "Don't worry. When the time comes, I'll bring you back and take care of you. I'll find you the best doctors. It's not that I don't care about you—it's just that Neil is so timid. I can't bear to make him suffer..." Her words nearly made me retch. I shook off her hand and pressed the knife to my wrist the same way Neil had, my voice cold. "Fine. Don't give me the shares. I'll end it right here, right now." "You said it yourselves—the Cresthaven princess isn't someone to cross. She's already been matched with the Simmons heir. If I die before the wedding, you can let Neil clean up the mess for the family." My stepmother immediately tugged at my father's sleeve. "Honey, we can't let Neil walk into that trap." "The princess won't live much longer. The Gilberts will definitely choose a new heir. When that happens, our Neil will be a widower—and if he catches something too, how will he ever show his face again?" "What if it's incurable? Joseph is a lost cause anyway—let him die. But Neil can't be buried alongside him!" Neil's eyes welled with tears on cue. My father had his assistant bring over the share transfer agreement and signed it immediately. He didn't forget to reassure Neil that he'd give him even more shares as compensation. I laughed coldly to myself. Go ahead. Give him whatever you want. In the end, I'll take it all back. I won't let my mother's legacy fall into the hands of these parasites. The emcee's voice cut through: "The ceremony is about to begin. Will the bride and groom please prepare to enter?" Julia's eyes lit up with anticipation as she took Neil's arm and hurried away. My father insisted that it would look bad if the groom's brother didn't attend, and dragged me into the banquet hall. A last-minute groom swap—in all of Cresthaven, that kind of scandal was rare. Mocking, curious glances swept over me constantly. When the ceremony finally ended and my father left to see off the guests, I found my chance to slip away. But Julia called after me. "Joseph, I know today was hard on you." "I know that without you, I wouldn't be where I am today. Once the Gilbert heiress passes, I'll bring you back immediately and make it up to you properly. Neil won't object." Julia and I had been college sweethearts. Back then, she was just a poor student, and I was the son my family never wanted. We'd found solace in each other. Leaned on each other. We used to say that even without Simmons Corp, we'd find our footing in Cresthaven together. To help her start her business, I'd swallowed my pride, scrambling to raise capital and recruit talent for her. Worried she'd be taken advantage of, I'd studied business management day and night, poring over complex case studies, becoming her personal consultant. She'd once held my hand and sworn she'd give me a home. That she'd never let anyone hurt me again. She broke that promise. I had no interest in wasting words on her. I turned to leave. And walked straight into Neil, holding a wine glass. He spoke timidly. "Brother, I wanted to toast you. Thank you for stepping aside for me and Julia—and for taking my place in the marriage." Julia praised him for being so thoughtful, then looked at me. "Joseph, Neil means well..." I cut her off, my voice ice. "Julia, do I need to remind you that I'm allergic to alcohol?" "Besides—the wedding suit was tailored to his measurements. You knew his body that well. You've been sleeping together, haven't you?" My lip curled. "I don't drink toasts from mistresses and their bastards."

I didn't bother lowering my voice. The guests who hadn't left yet turned to look. Neil's face went pale instantly. He covered his face, crying, "I know you're angry with me, brother. If ruining my reputation by calling me a homewrecker makes you feel better, then fine—I'll accept it. It's my fault for not knowing my place..." The moment he finished, Julia's expression turned icy. "Joseph, be a good boy and drink the wine. Don't make me have someone force it down your throat." I met her cold gaze without flinching. Julia scoffed and produced an entire bottle of high-proof liquor. "Don't play games with me. Back when you were entertaining those older women, you could drink all night without a problem. How could you suddenly be allergic?" "You just humiliated Neil in front of everyone. One glass isn't nearly enough to express your apology. Finish this whole bottle, then you can leave." The expressions around me shifted instantly to mockery and disgust. "How much does the great Simmons heir charge for a night of pouring drinks? Do those older women even satisfy you?" "No wonder CEO Henson wanted a new groom. Who'd want such a filthy man? He's a perfect match for that Gilbert girl who sleeps around and caught some disease. At least Neil is clean—pure as a little white flower." My eyes widened in disbelief. My nails dug deep into my palms. Julia was too proud to ever lower herself to ask for favors. To secure projects and investments for her, I'd forced myself to attend those business dinners, drinking until my stomach bled. But I'd always kept myself clean. The long hours and irregular meals had wrecked my immune system. That's when the alcohol allergy suddenly developed. I'd never told her. I didn't want her to worry. Before I could speak, Julia had already lost patience. She turned to her bodyguards. "You have three minutes. Get that bottle down his throat. Neil is tired—he can't stand much longer." They pinned my arms and pried my mouth open. The burning liquor poured down my throat in an endless stream. I choked, tears streaming involuntarily down my face. Almost immediately, angry red welts bloomed across my face and neck. I collapsed to my knees, clutching my throat. Suffocation closed in around me. Julia's face drained of color. She kicked away the bodyguard still trying to pour. "Stop! Don't touch him!" "Call 911 now! If anything happens to Joseph, I'll have your heads!" By the time the ambulance arrived, Julia came running after it, trying to climb in with me. "Joseph, I'm sorry. I thought you were lying to me. I—" Despite the paramedic's repeated warnings, I pulled off the oxygen mask. I spat directly in her face. Every word came out sharp as a blade. "Trash. Don't touch me. You're filth." Julia froze. Behind her, Neil cried out, "Jules! I twisted my ankle—it really hurts! Come help me..." She hesitated for just a moment. Then she turned and ran to Neil. They took me to the hospital. After treatment, I could finally breathe normally again. The welts gradually faded. The next day, Julia took Neil on a shopping spree at the mall. Photos of them holding hands, flaunting their love, flooded every social media feed. Meanwhile, not a single person came to see me—except my father's personal assistant. And even that wasn't my father's idea. Seeing how pale I looked, Abraham Lambert sighed. "Young Master, you've been treated terribly." "I wish I could do more than just visit you in secret. But I don't have the power to stop you from walking into that fire pit with the Gilbert family in seven days." He'd been brought up by my mother to help protect the company. After she passed, he stayed on to assist my father—though he'd always quietly looked after me on the side. I let a slow smile curve my lips. "You're wrong. That's no fire pit." "Abraham—interested in a partnership?"

I'd barely left the hospital when I heard the news: my father had given Neil fifteen percent of the company shares. And as if that weren't enough, he'd decided Neil and Julia's new home was too far from the family estate. Couldn't bear being so far from his precious son. So he bought Neil another villa—right in our neighborhood. Now my father and stepmother spent their days helping Neil decorate his new place. Everyone in our circle found it hilarious. The legitimate son, worth less than the mistress's bastard. I couldn't care less. With them gone, I finally had some peace. I was in my room, replying to Abraham's messages, when Neil pushed open my door without knocking. He carried a bowl of something dark and murky. He set it on the coffee table, sat down beside me, and hooked his arm through mine with a smile. "I heard you spent two whole days in the hospital all by yourself?" He pouted. "It's Julia's fault, really. She kept dragging me to auctions to bid on sky lanterns—said it was her wedding gift to me. I told her it was too extravagant, but I couldn't bear to disappoint her. That's the only reason I couldn't visit you." His voice turned syrupy. "Don't be mad at me, okay?" I watched his performance with cold eyes. "What do you actually want?" His gaze slid toward the safe in my room. A flush crept up his cheeks as he smiled. "Julia's been so eager lately. We just got married and she's already begging me for a baby." He laughed softly. "I heard that the sacred Madonna portrait can help with fertility. I've been looking for one to hang in our living room, but nothing's been quite right." He paused, letting the words hang. "I heard your mother was devout. That she was an incredible artist. That she painted a Madonna portrait before she died." His eyes met mine. "I was hoping you might let me have it." "I wouldn't take it for nothing, of course." His smile widened. "Julia and I talked about it. If you stay healthy, she said she'd keep you on the side. After all, a successful woman like her always has men circling. Why let some stranger have what could go to family? You could—" I yanked my arm free and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him close. "That portrait is the only thing my mother left me." My voice came out low, dangerous. "Father's company, his women—I don't care about any of it. But that painting? No one touches it." I shoved him back. "Only trash like you and your mother would throw themselves at married men, begging to be the other woman. I'm not interested." When I was six, I got sick. Desperately, incurably sick. My mother had nowhere left to turn, so she turned to faith. She painted that portrait of the Madonna with her own hands. She brought in a master to consecrate it. Then she knelt before it for three days straight—no food, no water—kowtowing and chanting prayers, begging the heavens to save her son. I recovered. But my mother died trying to stop human traffickers. They stabbed her over and over until she stopped moving. That painting held every ounce of her love for me. No one was taking it. Neil crumpled to the floor where I'd thrown him, sobbing like his heart was breaking. "You've got it all wrong..." He choked on his tears. "I just wanted to repay you for everything..." Julia appeared out of nowhere. She pulled Neil into her arms, then turned and slapped me across the face. Her eyes were glacier-cold. "I'm the one who wanted a different groom. Neil was never the other woman." Her voice dripped with contempt. "He was worried you'd catch some disease. The Gilberts won't take care of a widower, and no one else would want you. So he begged me to find you a doctor, to make sure someone would look after you for the rest of your miserable life." She stepped closer. "You'd raise your hand against a brother this thoughtful, but you'll fight to the death over a painting by a dead woman? You're insane." She pinned me in place with one hand and snapped at her bodyguards over her shoulder. "Since he won't hand it over willingly, cut open the safe. Take the painting." Her words stabbed into my chest—a thousand times more painful than the slap. Within minutes, they had the safe open. They pulled out the painting and handed it to Neil. I stared at Julia, a cold laugh escaping my throat. "So this is it. You've chosen Neil's side completely. You'll even help him steal from me." Julia knew my history. She knew what that painting meant. The tenderness she'd once shown me was gone. All that remained was a flicker of guilt she couldn't quite hide.

Julia released me, her tone softening slightly. "Joseph, it breaks my heart to see either of you upset." "Your mother isn't coming back anyway. It's just a worthless painting. Why not let Neil have it? If you really want one, I'll buy you a hundred copies later. How does that sound?" I grabbed the glass of water from the table and smashed it against Julia's head without hesitation. "No deal." Blood trickled down Julia's forehead. Neil shrieked and rushed over, shoving me hard. "Who do you think you are, hitting people?! It's just a painting! Fine, we don't want it anymore—take it back!" The scroll suddenly unraveled in his hands. Riiip— The sacred Madonna portrait tore in half. One piece remained in my grasp. The other half—Neil tossed it into the fish tank beside us. "Oh no, I... I didn't mean to..." I ignored him and lunged toward the tank, fishing out the ruined half. The pigments had already bled beyond recognition. It could never be restored. I couldn't even protect the last thing my mother left me. My heart felt shredded. Tears dripped onto the floor. Something flickered in Julia's eyes—almost like pity—and she shot Neil a reproachful glance. "Joseph..." Neil seemed to remember something and quickly grabbed a bowl from the coffee table, thrusting it toward me. "Here, this is a folk remedy I found for you. They say it prevents all kinds of diseases. Drink it and forgive me, okay?" The black liquid inside reeked of rot. I could make out the corpses of scorpions and maggots floating in it. I snatched the bowl and hurled it at Neil. "You want my forgiveness? Over your dead body." The liquid had long gone cold. But Neil clutched his arm and screamed. "Ahhh, it burns!" My stepmother rushed over. Seeing the commotion, she yanked up Neil's sleeve. His arm was covered in red welts. The two exchanged a glance. Then she pulled Neil into her arms and burst into tears. "Oh, my poor baby! Why do you bother caring about that ungrateful wretch? When has he ever treated you like a brother?!" "You've always had such delicate skin. What if it scars? Daughter-in-law, are you just going to stand there and watch your husband get bullied?!" Julia looked at me, disappointment flooding her eyes. She closed them briefly, then spoke in a low voice. "Bring a basin of boiling water." At her signal, the bodyguard beside her forced me to the ground, pinning me face-down. A basin of scalding water was placed before my eyes. The steam was so intense I couldn't keep them open. Dread flooded through me. "Julia, what are you doing?!" She gazed down at me from above. "Joseph, you've repeatedly spurned Neil's kindness and hurt him. There has to be a price." Guessing her intent, I struggled with everything I had. "That bowl was already cold! Neil and his mother are putting on an act—can't you see that?!" At my words, Neil immediately started wiping his tears. "You bully me and target me, fine—but Julia has been so good to you. How can you bear to lie to her?!" "You think I'm not hurt enough? Fine. I'll scald myself with the boiling water right now. Consider it payment for your mother's painting!" He had barely lifted his foot toward the basin when Julia pulled him into her arms. "Neil, you're just too innocent. That's why he's always framing you, always hurting you. I believe you." Neil sniffled pitifully. "Actually... the little princess of the elite circle is so obsessed with looks. If we ruin his skin with boiling water, maybe that's a good thing? Maybe she won't want to touch him anymore. At least he won't catch any diseases from her."

Such an absurd suggestion, and Julia actually nodded in agreement. "Neil always was the clever one." I laughed—wild, unhinged laughter that brought tears streaming down my face. "Julia, I was so wrong about you. You and Neil truly are two of a kind—a match made in hell!" Julia's brow furrowed, her expression turning cold. "Joseph, if you're angry and want to lash out at me, fine. But why do you have to attack Neil at every turn? He's done nothing but think of you. Don't be so ungrateful!" "Neil's right—maybe this is a way to protect you. Besides, you owe him this!" "Don't worry. Even if your body is covered in scars, I won't find you repulsive. The moment that Gilbert girl dies, I'll come get you myself!" The words had barely left her mouth when an entire basin of scalding water was poured down my back. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever known—searing, all-consuming. I couldn't move, couldn't escape. My body convulsed uncontrollably, tremors wracking through me. My father rushed in, his voice urgent. "Enough of this nonsense! The Gilberts have sent someone. Their young lady is fading fast—doctors say three days at most. Her dying wish is to marry and consummate the marriage before she goes, so she won't be a lonely ghost." "The Gilberts want to take him now. They're holding a small ceremony at home so Miss Gilbert can die without regrets!" When the butler tried to change my clothes, he froze at the sight of my back—a grotesque landscape of blisters that made him afraid to touch me, terrified of breaking them and causing infection. When my father heard, there was no concern in his voice. Only reproach. "I'm the one who sent Neil to get the sacred Madonna portrait from you. I never imagined you'd be so difficult about it—even going so far as to falsely accuse him. You never learn!" I turned to look at him, hatred burning so fiercely I thought it might consume me. So he was the one who told Neil about the painting. "Don't look at me like that. What, are you regretting this now? Did you think getting yourself injured would get you out of the marriage?" "Let me make this clear: the Gilberts have promised a generous gift once this is done. Even a small project from them would cover years of our company's profits. I've raised you all these years—it's time you repaid me. You will marry into that family today!" My father told the butler not to bother with my injuries—just put me in the red ceremonial suit. Red on red. No one would notice. As long as it looked presentable. The blisters on my back burst one by one as the fabric dragged across them. The pain was so intense I could barely stand upright. By the time I got into the car, the back of my suit was soaked through with blood. Through the window, I saw Julia mouthing words at me silently: "Joseph, hang in there. I'll come for you." Three days later, Julia received word that someone in the Gilbert family had died. She counted the days. It had to be the little princess of the capital's elite circles. She rushed to the funeral home with Neil to pay her respects. But when she approached to view the body, Julia froze. The person lying in the casket wasn't some young heiress. It was an elderly man with a full head of white hair.