Married to the Wrong Donovan Brother

My father died. He left me a contract. A marriage to the Donovans. The Chicago Outfit. He wanted the future Don to protect me. The whole family's power, wrapped around me for life. But on my wedding day to the eldest, Finn… he ran. Took my family housekeeper's daughter with him. His brother, Cillian Donovan, stepped up. He married me instead. Wedding night. I was in the music room. Alone. Playing the cello. A sad song for my father. Cillian kicked the door open. His eyes were bloodshot. Pure jealousy. A sneer on his face. “Does marrying me instead of Finn really hurt you this much?” For the next five years, he brought women home. Different ones. Kissing them in my rose garden. Fucking them in our bed. I swallowed it all. Played the part. The perfect Donna of the Donovan family. Until today. When he kept his latest toy around for four months. My heart hit the floor. She clung to Cillian's arm, her red lips at his ear. “Cillian, the way your wife looks at me… like she wants to eat me alive.” Cillian stroked her hair, not really caring. His eyes found mine. A cruel smile. “My wife? She doesn't want to be. She wants to be his woman. The traitor's.” That night, a rival family hit the estate. Fire everywhere. Cillian grabbed his girl. Ran for the armored car. No hesitation. I was on the ground. Smoke in my lungs. Couldn't move. I watched him drive away. Leaving me in the dust. Something inside me just… snapped. Five years of this bullshit marriage. I was going to end it. Myself. … Chapter 1 The fire ate our home. And my husband walked right through it. To her. His back turned to me. It crushed the last five years of hope. I woke up in a hospital. All white. Blinding. Every breath was shattered glass in my lungs. My right arm—my cello arm—was wrapped in thick bandages. The door opened. Maria, the head maid from my childhood home, walked in. “Find out who Jenna really is,” I said to the ceiling. My voice was a rasp. As the Donna, it was my duty to vet everyone who got close to the Don. Even his whores. And Jenna had been with him for four months straight. I had to make sure she wasn’t a rat from a rival family. Maria just stood there. Frozen. Then, her face crumbled. She started shaking, sobbing by my bed. “I’m sorry, Donna.” She trembled. “Jenna… she’s my daughter.” The air left the room. I stared at the woman who’d worked for my family for twenty years. “Your daughter?” My lips cracked into a cold smile. “Congratulations, Maria. You’ll be a guest of honor soon. The new Donna’s mother. Now get out. I don’t want to see you.” She looked up, her face a mess of tears and snot, crying even harder. I waved my good hand, ready to call security to drag her out. The door slammed open. “Miss Aveline!” Jenna burst in, crying. Cillian was right behind her. Even with ash on his white shirt, he looked like he owned the world. “If you’re angry, punish me!” Jenna rushed to my bed, putting on a show of a scared little girl. “My mother has served your family for so long, she’s always been loyal, please don’t—” She didn’t finish. A strong hand grabbed her waist. Cillian lifted her up, pulling her against his hard chest. His face was tight. He held her like she was his whole world. “Drop the high-and-mighty act.” Cillian finally looked at me, his eyes burning with a cold warning. “Aveline, you were a reject in a business deal. Damaged goods. Neither of us wanted this marriage. Don’t pull rank on anyone.” Jenna looked at me from the safety of his chest. Her eyes were wet, but they shined with victory. “Oh, and Miss Aveline, there’s something you might not know. The girl who ran off with Finn all those years ago… that was my sister.” My blood ran cold. This was insane. One sister steals my fiancé. The other steals my husband. “What a fucking show,” I stared at them, a laugh crawling up my throat. “The sisters taking turns with the Donovan brothers. You really keep it in the family.” Cillian’s brow lowered. Danger. His eyes flickered to my bandaged arm. I saw something there—something complicated—but it was gone in a flash. I ignored the searing pain in my arm and sat up straight. The last shred of dignity I had as Donna. “I’m not firing you,” I said, my voice ice cold as I looked at the two of them pressed together. “After all, the head of the Donovan family is protecting you now. How could I dare touch you?” Cillian’s dark eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to this. This quiet, sharp version of me. He was used to my hysterics, my tears over his women. He didn't get them today. A flicker of something strange crossed his face. But he said nothing. “I’m tired.” I closed my eyes. A dismissal. “Get out of my room. And take your people with you.” The heavy footsteps left. The door clicked shut. Silence. I opened my eyes. They felt dry and raw. No one knew. Since I was sixteen, Cillian was the one I’d wanted to marry. But five years with him just made everything worse. The smoke in my lungs turned into a fever. My body was on fire. I stumbled to the window. Chicago in December. Snow everywhere. The wind cut right through you. Down below, by the black armored car, Cillian stopped. I watched him take off his coat. His own expensive, warm coat. He wrapped Jenna in it. Gently. He leaned down. Kissed the top of her head, shielding her from the snow. A tenderness he never once showed me. Not even in bed. Felt like a giant hand was crushing my heart. My vision blurred. My breathing got heavy. I fumbled for my phone. My fingers shook as I opened my inbox. An email. It had been sitting there for three days. An offer letter. Principal Cellist. Vienna Symphony Orchestra. Before I passed out, I used my last bit of strength. I hit “Accept.” Chapter 2 I woke up. Still alone in the hospital room. I pulled out my own IV. Discharged myself. When I pushed open the main doors to the Donovan estate, I thought I was in the wrong house. The medieval oil painting I’d bought at auction in Florence—gone. Replaced by tacky, bright pop art. My favorite antique carved bench was gone, too. In its place, a cheap-looking, hot-pink velvet sofa. “Get rid of that vase, too. It’s depressing. Cillian said everything in the house should be how I like it.” Jenna was standing in the middle of the hall, wearing my silk robe, ordering the staff around. And my husband, the untouchable Don, was lounging on the new sofa. His long legs were crossed. His thumb was tracing patterns on Jenna’s slender fingers. Maria sat across from them, holding a coffee cup, smiling from ear to ear. Like a perfect little family. I let out a cold laugh and walked straight past them. My bandaged arm snagged on a sculpture in the entryway. The laughter stopped. Maria jumped up. A lifetime of habit. “D-Donna, you’re back. I’ll get you some dessert…” “Sit down.” Cillian cut her off. “Maria, remember this. You’re not a servant in this house anymore. You’re Jenna’s mother. You will be respected.” Maria shot me a nervous glance. I didn’t ask for trouble. I didn’t demand to know why, my eyes red with tears, like I used to. I ignored them all and went straight for the second-floor study. My flight to Vienna was in two days. I had orchestra contracts to deal with. I pushed open the study door. Cillian’s private safe was cracked open. He was never careless. Never. He must have been in a hurry during the fire. I walked over, planning to lock it for him. Then my eyes hit the top shelf. I froze. A sonogram. Jenna’s name was printed on it. Eight weeks pregnant. Eight weeks… That was my birthday. I had cooked him a whole Sicilian dinner. All his favorites. I waited all day. He finally came home late that night. He glanced at his phone, didn’t even take off his coat, and rushed back out into the rain. He left me there with a table full of cold food. Alone until morning. So that’s where he went. To Jenna’s ultrasound. Next to the sonogram was a thick stack of receipts. A rose estate. A private jet trip to Iceland. And records of how he destroyed a socialite’s family overnight. Just because she insulted Jenna at a gala. One thing after another. All of it, his bottomless devotion to Jenna. A kind of love that was shocking. Foreign to me. I remembered when I hurt my wrist practicing a difficult piece. I cried to him about the pain. He just sat at his desk, his eyes like ice. “Dramatic. Go find a doctor yourself.” I told him I wanted to see the snow in the Alps for our anniversary. He didn't even look up. “The Donna of the Donovan family doesn’t need pointless romance. Do your duty.” So, he knew how to be romantic. Just not for me. Because I wasn’t Jenna. I reached out with my left hand, pushed the evidence back inside, and shut the safe door. “What, thinking about Finn again? Or are you writing him another love letter?” A cold sneer from behind me. Cillian was standing in the doorway. His tall frame leaned against the door, jacket off, tie loose. His shirt was open at the collar, showing his collarbones, the top of his chest. That familiar, mocking smile was on his face. He walked toward me. For five years, it was always the same. Every time he opened his mouth, he had to use Finn to twist the knife. Like he could only get his sick satisfaction by seeing me feel guilty, by watching me scramble to prove I was loyal to him. The old me would have been red-faced, desperate. I would have sworn my love for him. I would have even cleaned up the messes with his discarded mistresses, just for a single smile. But now… even breathing felt exhausting. “Think what you want,” I said, looking down. I tried to walk past him. “If you say so, then it’s true.” My indifference pissed him off. As I passed, he grabbed my wrist and slammed me against the wall. “Ugh…” His body pressed against mine. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he pulled back. His casual smirk was gone, his jaw tight with a dangerous edge. “Say that again.” It was the sign. The one right before he exploded. Every time he looked like that, someone was about to have a very bad day. “Isn’t that what you said?” I looked up, meeting his furious gaze without flinching. My voice was calm. “I’m agreeing with you. Now you’re angry about that, too?” Cillian’s dark pupils contracted. He stared at me, his chest rising and falling. He was waiting. Waiting for me to grab his sleeve and beg. To cry and soothe him like I always did. But I finally saw how stupid I’d been. I was done soothing him. Chapter 3 “Make it clear, Aveline.” Cillian’s grip on my wrist was tight. His hot breath was on my ear. An invasion. That dangerous closeness used to make my heart race. Now, it just made me sick. I laughed. A bitter sound. “Make what clear?” I looked at him. “What, you want me to clarify the part about Jenna being pregnant?” Cillian went rigid. His grip on my wrist vanished. I didn’t look at his stunned face. I rubbed the red marks he’d left and walked downstairs. In the main hall, movers were clumsily pushing an antique Steinway piano. It was the last thing my mother left me before she fell from that cliff. “Careful! Don’t scratch the floor,” Jenna ordered from the sofa. “Hurry up and move it to the basement. This area needs to be padded. For a children’s play area.” I stopped on the stairs, my eyes cold. Jenna met my gaze. No shame. She just lifted her chin. “What are you looking at? Cillian approved it. The baby will need space to play.” I scanned the room. This house I didn't even recognize. I heard heavy footsteps behind me. Cillian was coming down the stairs. I stood my ground. I turned my head and looked at the man on his throne. “Tell your men to be careful, Cillian,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips. “After all, this is the first of your children in the Donovan family that might actually make it to birth.” The air behind me went dead silent. I didn’t turn around. But I could feel his eyes on me. Burning. Complicated. A gaze full of a pain he was trying to choke down. It was nailed to my back. I walked out the door without a backward glance and got in the car. The window rolled up, shutting out the madness in that house. I leaned back, exhausted. My left hand went to my flat stomach. The first year of our marriage, I was pregnant. It happened one night when Cillian was drunk. I was naive. I thought a baby would melt the ice around his heart. I was crying with joy, holding the test. He walked in. He looked at the plastic stick. Then at my tears. He sneered. “Having my baby makes you cry? Get rid of it, Aveline. The thought of it disgusts me, too.” I froze. All my happiness turned to ash. “You don’t want him?” He turned his back, answering a call from some model. “I’m on my way.” He walked out. Didn’t even look at me. I ran after him like a madwoman. I slipped and fell hard on the icy front steps. Blood stained the snow. The child who never got to see the world became a pool of blood. Chicago was colder that day than the day my father died. And my husband never even came back to check on me. I took a deep breath, pushing the burn from my eyes. The car stopped at the Chicago Symphony Center. My final solo concert before Vienna. Every piece was for my mother. To finish what she started before she died. For five years, it was the only thing that kept me sane. I opened the car door and looked up. My breath caught. The giant digital billboard outside—the one that was supposed to have my name on it—was lit up with Jenna’s perfectly made-up face. 【A DONOVAN CHARITY GALA — HOSTED BY JENNA】 My head exploded. I ran into the lobby, shaking. The symphony setup was gone. Replaced by tacky champagne towers and banquet tables. “What’s going on…” I grabbed the manager, my voice trembling. “My concert… who gave you permission to cancel my concert for a party?” Everyone turned to look. The manager looked torn. “I’m sorry, Miss Aveline. Mr. Donovan booked the entire venue for tonight. He changed the event last minute. We were just following orders.” “This is theft!” I was shaking with rage. My voice was shrill. “It’s not theft. It’s power.” A low, cold voice cut through my anger. Cillian walked out of the VIP entrance, holding Jenna’s hand. “I cancelled it,” he said, his tone casual. “Jenna needs a formal introduction to Chicago society. Your little concert that no one cares about was a waste of time. Better to use the space for something valuable.” “A waste of time?” My eyes were bloodshot. I stared at him. “Cillian, you know what this concert meant to me! It was for my mother!” Cillian let go of Jenna. He strode toward me until he was right in my face. “Don’t use your dead mother as a shield, Aveline,” he hissed, his voice low and full of payback. “You’re not angry about the concert. You’re angry because Finn loved to hear you play.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. “You planned all this for him, didn’t you? To play for the coward who left you at the altar.” I couldn’t listen anymore. Smack. My palm cracked against his jaw. The sound echoed through the hall. He turned his head to the side. A flash of shock in his eyes. Then, a storm of pure rage. Jenna shoved me. “Are you crazy? How could you hit him!” I stood my ground. I gave him one last, long look. Then I turned and walked away. Chapter 4 “Sue for breach of contract? That’s impossible.” The lawyer’s voice was shaking on the phone. “Miss Aveline, this is Cillian Donovan. He writes the rules in this city. You can’t win this fight.” He hung up. I gripped my phone, my knuckles white. He’d even crushed that last little bit of hope with his power. A storm broke over Chicago. I didn’t have an umbrella. I walked up the hill to the cemetery. I collapsed in front of my parents’ graves. The rain soaked through my clothes. The water stung the wound on my arm. My hand trembled as I touched my mother’s faded picture on the headstone. “Mom… I’m so tired.” I pressed my face against the cold stone, tears mixing with the rain and mud. “I have nothing left.” I heard footsteps behind me. Scrambling. I turned. Cillian stood there, under a black umbrella. Jenna was beside him. Behind them, a timid Maria and a few of Cillian’s huge bodyguards. Before I could react, Jenna broke free from Cillian and walked straight to my father’s grave. She bowed her head. Deeply. “Dad, I came to see you.” My whole body went stiff. Then, five years of rage erupted. “What did you call him?!” I lunged, shoving her hard. “Your sister stole my fiancé! You stole my husband! Now you’re going to disturb my father’s peace? Have you no shame!” Jenna cried out and fell backward. She didn’t hit the mud. Cillian’s strong arms caught her. Pulled her into his chest. He looked up. His eyes were ice, locked on me. “Are you done?” His voice was dead. No warmth. “Aveline, you need to face reality. Jenna is carrying a bloodline that cannot be harmed. You touch her again, you’ll see what happens.” I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. “She’s a thief! What right does she have to call him my father…” “Because she is your own father’s flesh and blood.” Maria dropped to her knees in the mud, cutting me off. She kept her head down. “Donna, I’m sorry. Years ago, back at your family estate... I wanted to secure my place. I was cleaning your father's bedroom... I took his used condom from the trash. I… inserted it into myself.” My stomach turned. Violently. I stumbled back, my eyes wide with disbelief. I looked at this woman I’d called “Aunt Maria” for twenty years. A chill ran down my spine. “You’re disgusting,” I said, shaking uncontrollably. “You are a monster.” Jenna leaned into Cillian’s arms. She whispered something in his ear. Cillian listened, then gave a signal. His bodyguards moved forward. On their shoulders, they carried a new gravestone. And there, in the spot that should have been only mine, was a line of gold lettering. 【BELOVED DAUGHTERS: JENNA, AVELINE】 The thief’s name. Before mine. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were red, burning with fury as I stared at that stone. “Cillian, what the hell are you doing?” I pointed at the new headstone, my voice a shriek. Cillian shielded Jenna behind him. A cruel sneer played on his lips. His eyes, like poisoned knives, landed on the old headstone—the one Finn had helped me pick out years ago. The jealousy in his eyes was about to overflow. “Jenna is your father's blood. Her name belongs on the stone,” he said, leaning in close. “Why the big reaction? Are you sad to see the old one go? Or are you sad to lose the memory of Finn helping you pick it out?” Finn. Always Finn. “You bastard!” I threw myself at him, but two guards grabbed my shoulders, holding me back. I struggled, screaming in despair. “Let me go! Don’t touch my father’s grave! Cillian, I’m begging you, don’t touch it!” Cillian turned his back. No emotion. He gave the order. Cold. “Smash it.” A guard swung a sledgehammer. It crashed down on the old headstone. Stone chips flew everywhere. Again. And again. They held me down in the mud. I watched the stone that held my last good memories break into a thousand pieces. My dignity. My final boundary. All of it smashed to dust by the man I loved for five years. All for his insane jealousy. All in front of his mistress. They set the new headstone in place. Cillian walked over to me. He looked down at me, a pathetic mess in the mud. For a split second, I saw it in his eyes. Panic. Regret. Something he didn’t even recognize himself. “Stop crying. Get yourself together.” He fixed his wet cuffs, putting his mask back on. The untouchable Don. He gave his final order. “Be home by eight. Or don't come back at all.” He thought I’d do what I’d always done. Lick my wounds in a corner, then crawl back to my cage like nothing happened. He was wrong. The thunder faded. The rain kept falling. But inside, I was calm. Ice cold. This one-woman show was over. I pushed the guards’ hands away. I got to my feet, swaying. I looked at Cillian’s arrogant face. No hysterics. Not one more tear. I reached into my waterproof bag. I pulled out the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up that morning. And I threw them in his face. “I said, we’re done. We’re getting a divorce.” Chapter 5 The papers fluttered in the wind and rain, slapping against Cillian’s face. He instinctively reached up and caught the wet pages. Cillian’s breath stopped. “Aveline, don’t do this now,” he said. His voice was raw. “Do what?” I looked at the face I had loved for five years. I felt nothing. It was all dead. Gone with my unborn child. Gone with every last fantasy about this marriage. “Sign it, Cillian,” I said, my voice flat. “Take whatever you want. Just leave me alone. You make my skin crawl.” Beside him, Jenna’s eyes flashed with pure joy. She looked like she wanted to shove a pen in his hand and get me out of her way for good. But when she turned to Cillian, she saw his fist clench, his knuckles white. The jealousy was back, and she bit her lip, hard. Cillian didn’t sign. He ripped the papers in half. His eyes were a storm of emotions. He was running from something. He couldn't look at me. “You’re not thinking straight,” he said, his voice hard, like he was hiding something. He threw the torn paper into the mud. “I’m giving you one chance to take it back.” Then he spun around. He didn't even wait for his pregnant mistress. He stormed through the rain toward his armored car. His steps were uneven, like something was chasing him. I watched him go and laughed. A cold, empty sound. Regret? The biggest regret of my life was marrying him. I didn’t wait. I didn’t go back to the estate. I got in a cab and told the driver to head for O’Hare International. Two hours later, the plane to Vienna was in the air. I sat in first class, watching Chicago shrink below me. For the first time in years, I felt light. I took the SIM card out of my phone. I snapped it in two and dropped it in the trash. Goodbye, Cillian Donovan. Forever. --- Cillian’s POV The wipers beat against the windshield. The car was dead silent. Jenna had stumbled after me, pressing her wet body against mine. Her eyes were red. Her voice was a whiny tremble. “Cillian, how could she do that to you…” “Shut up.” I cut her off. My eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. A nameless panic was spreading through me like a disease. “And drop the pathetic act, Jenna,” I said, shattering her fantasy. “You’d better remember. That baby you’re carrying is Luca’s.” Jenna froze. The color drained from her face. “I bought you the mansion. I gave you the money. I put up with your stupid games.” I turned and looked at her like she was worthless. “I did it because Luca was my most loyal man. He died taking a bullet for me. I swore a blood oath. To protect his unborn child.” For her, I felt only duty. A debt to a dead man. Love? She wasn’t worth a single hair on Aveline’s head. Tears streamed down Jenna’s face. She bit her lip, not daring to say a word. She finally understood. I was just using her. A vessel to honor my dead brother-in-arms. I had the driver drop her at her villa and drove back to the Donovan estate alone. The rain had stopped. I sat in the car, staring at the lit-up house. I couldn’t get out. I was afraid to open that door. Afraid to face the disgust in Aveline’s eyes. From the inside pocket of my jacket, over my heart, I pulled out a pocket watch. One I never showed anyone. I flipped it open. No clock face. Just a faded photograph. Aveline at sixteen. In her school uniform, holding her cello, smiling like an angel who didn't know evil existed. My rough thumb traced her face. A sharp pain stabbed at my heart. The night of the fire, Jenna was bleeding. She almost lost the baby. I couldn’t let Luca’s only legacy in this world die. That’s why I ran to her. At the hospital, I wanted to explain. But then she looked at me with that cold, mocking tone. Congratulating me like she didn’t give a damn. The jealousy and rage burned through me. I was furious that she only ever cared about Finn. Furious that she wouldn't even give me a scrap of her jealousy. So I used the cruelest words I could find. I deliberately replaced her concert with Jenna’s party. I even smashed her mother’s headstone—all because Finn had been with her when she bought it. I just wanted her to lose it. For me. I’d even take her hate. I needed her obsessed with me, even in the most twisted way. But today, at the cemetery, when she pulled out those divorce papers… I panicked. “We’ll talk tonight… we’ll fix this.” I put the watch away, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. The moment I walked in, the house was silent. Too silent. “Where’s the Donna?” I asked the butler, pulling off my tie. He froze, his face pale. “Boss… the Donna left this morning. She never came back.” My breath stopped. My face went white. I shoved the butler aside and grabbed my phone. My hands shook as I dialed the number I knew by heart. The line was dead. Disconnected.