I Married My Groom's Uncle

My name is Rosalind Harper, and today is my wedding day with Michael Silva. This wedding was secured with a three hundred billion investment from the Harper Family. The Silva Family and the Harper Family are business giants; to outsiders, this marriage alliance was a perfect match. But only I knew that Michael Silva never truly had me in his heart. His heart belonged to a woman named Shirley Cooper, his treasured first love. At the wedding banquet, the crystal chandeliers sparkled brilliantly, guests raised their glasses in celebration, their faces glowing with blessings. I wore a pure white wedding dress, linking arms with Michael Silva, forcing a smile to pretend I was happy. Just then, Michael Silva's cell phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and his face instantly turned ashen. My heart sank—I had a terrible feeling. Michael answered, and after just a few words, his whole body started to shake. "What did you say? Shirley... she took sleeping pills?" His voice was trembling with disbelief and panic. The guests nearby sensed something was wrong and all turned to look. After hanging up, Michael shoved me aside, grabbed his coat, and was about to bolt out. "Michael, you can't leave! Today's our wedding!" I grabbed his arm desperately, my voice pleading. "Wedding? Rosalind, Shirley is barely hanging on—who cares about a wedding now!" Michael's eyes were ice-cold as he yanked his hand free. I staggered back a few steps, nearly falling. "Michael Silva, don't forget—this marriage is the Silva family begging the Harper family!" "The three hundred billion investment has already hit the Silva family's account. If you walk away now, the Harpers will pull out immediately, and every project of the Silva Family will be doomed!" I steadied myself, gritting my teeth as I delivered the threat. I knew the Silva family was desperate for this money to save their company from collapse. This was the only leverage I had to hold onto him. Michael Silva's footsteps came to a sudden stop. He turned around, glaring at me with eyes full of hatred. "Rosalind Harper, you really are ruthless." He spat through clenched teeth. But even so, he didn't pause. "I can't let Shirley get hurt!" he said, breaking free from my hold and storming out of the banquet hall without looking back. Watching his resolute back disappear, I stood rooted to the spot, feeling utterly drained. The guests' whispers and pitying looks stabbed at my heart like sharp needles. This wedding ended up being nothing but a joke. I went back alone to the empty bridal suite. That night, the sky opened up with a torrential downpour, the fierce wind howling as it battered the windows, as if mourning my misfortune. Suddenly, a sharp pain surged in my lower abdomen, and warm fluid ran down my leg. I looked down—it was blood. I was three months pregnant, and I hadn't even told Michael Silva yet. My water had broken; I knew it was serious. I struggled to pull out my cell phone and called Michael Silva. I dialed the number, but all I got was a cold busy signal. Once, twice, three times... I kept calling his number over and over, my fingers turning white from pressing so hard, my palms drenched in cold sweat. By the 99th call, there was still no answer. The pain intensified, and my vision began to blur. Summoning my last bit of strength, I called emergency services. By the time they lifted me into the ambulance, my consciousness was fading. I lay on the operating table, hearing the doctors' urgent voices. "The patient is bleeding heavily. Condition critical, prepare for a blood transfusion!" "Blood pressure is dropping continuously!" "Has the family arrived? We need a family member's signature!" In the end, all I heard was the doctor's helpless sigh before I slipped into unconsciousness. I died—on the night of my wedding to Michael Silva, with my unborn child by my side.