Chapter 3: The Arrow, the Rival, and the Sacrifice

After hearing I was pregnant, Marcus’s whole demeanor changed. Gone was the roughness. He even tried to comfort me. And I saw his left arm was bandaged—same spot as my wound.

And weirdly, by the next day, my wound didn’t hurt anymore. Huh.

Ding! Gained 10 favor points from Marcus Hawthorne. Accelerated healing unlocked.

The metallic voice was back. Great.

So there are perks! All I have to do is win Marcus’s favor, and maybe I won’t feel any more pain. Sounds easy, right?

Lying beside him, I remembered something. The big injury Marcus was about to get in two weeks…

It would happen during the annual Hawthorne family archery competition—against his older brother, Sebastian.

The arrow would miss his heart by an inch…

If I didn’t want to feel what it was like to get shot through the heart, I had to stop him from getting hurt.

The easiest way? Keep him out of the competition.

But Marcus was stubborn. This contest was everything to him—a showdown with Sebastian for the Hawthorne inheritance. Of course.

Sebastian was the older brother—technically a bastard—but the old man put him in the will and wanted to make him the next head of the family.

Marcus was the legitimate son. He’d served overseas and had a loyal following among the staff.

Everyone was upset about the old man’s favoritism. Can you blame them?

Traditionally, the heir is chosen from the legitimate sons. So why should Sebastian, who only recently joined the family, get the top spot?

Marcus’s supporters had invested years in him. They didn’t want to lose out now.

So they pushed Marcus to use the competition to show Sebastian up.

They figured Sebastian, who grew up in the sticks, couldn’t possibly beat Marcus at archery or horsemanship. Yeah, right.

But what they didn’t know was that Sebastian had trained with a secretive mentor. He was hiding his true skills.

Only I knew that, thanks to my knowledge of the plot. Marcus and his crew had no clue. Lucky me.

I couldn’t just blurt it out, so I was a nervous wreck. What else is new?

After some thought, I decided to give Marcus a laxative. Desperate times.

Blunt but effective.

Let him spend the day in the bathroom—let's see him compete then.

Who knew Marcus would still compete, even with a stomachache.

I underestimated the villain’s will to win. My bad.

For two weeks, I shamelessly brought Marcus food every day. Talk about dedication.

To show I meant it, I even cooked a couple of dishes myself.

My family owned a diner back home, so I could cook a little. Not a pro, but not terrible.

I brought the food in, confident. Marcus seemed eager, but after one bite, he spat it out. Ouch.

"You’re pregnant. Don’t bother with this stuff—let the staff handle it, okay?"

Was that a polite way of saying, "Nice try, but never again"?

I made real spicy chili mac. He didn’t even try it.

Since Marcus couldn’t appreciate my cooking, I switched tactics. Let the staff cook—I’d just deliver it and take the credit.

The night before the competition, I set out a table full of food and secretly added a little something extra to Marcus’s favorite rabbit stew. Fingers crossed.

Maybe I was too eager, because Marcus kept glancing at me. Suspicious much?

"Tomorrow's the big day, eat up…"

When he heard about the competition, Marcus set down his fork and looked at me. "You want me to win?"

"Of course!" I said without thinking.

He stared at me, searching my face for a lie.

He didn’t find one. Because I meant it.

I really did want him to win—his life was my life, after all.

Maybe because he saw I meant it, his expression softened and he served me some food.

"You've worked hard lately."

I smiled and thanked him. Yeah, it was hard work, trying to keep him from getting himself killed. No big deal.

Honestly.

I waited all night for news of his stomach troubles.

At dawn, I went to check, only to hear he’d already left for the competition. Figures.

I nearly fainted, then rushed over myself.

The event went off without a hitch. Of course.

All the Hawthorne sons competed, but everyone knew it was really about Marcus and Sebastian. The main event.

It was an archery contest.

Spectators filled the stands, three rows deep. Packed.

I sat on the family balcony with the other ladies.

Sebastian hit the bullseye ten times in a row. The crowd was stunned, then erupted in cheers.

Marcus matched him arrow for arrow, but when it came to the tenth shot, everyone held their breath.

If he hit the bullseye, at least he’d tie. If he missed, his reputation would take a hit. No pressure.

Everyone watched Marcus. I scanned the crowd, remembering that in the original, a hidden shooter would fire during the fifth shot. Now it was the tenth, and nothing had happened. Weird.

Suddenly, I spotted a crossbow aimed at Marcus.

"Look out!" I shouted, rushing forward to shove him aside.

But he barely budged. Instead, I took the arrow through my right shoulder. Great.

If he hadn't grabbed me, it would have hit my throat.

After all my efforts to keep him safe, I still ended up taking the hit. Story of my life.

After the competition, Sebastian was the talk of the town, and all the socialites flocked to him.

Marcus got flak for not finishing the last shot, but given the circumstances, the contest was called off. Lucky him.

The shooter turned out to be someone from Marcus’s own staff, though Marcus didn’t know it. A misguided "ally" had hired an assassin to hit Sebastian, but he mistook Marcus for the target.

The would-be killer was caught and killed himself before he could talk. Marcus had to swallow the loss. Rough.

But the worst off was me, stuck in bed recovering—again. Since becoming Autumn Sinclair, getting hurt was pretty much routine.