My Rockstar Husband Fell for His Sister-in-Law

Chapter 1

The moment my brother-in-law's funeral ended, Damien was swarmed by reporters.

He removed his sunglasses, his voice low and controlled:

"My brother's gone. His widow is pregnant and needs care. As family, I have to step up."

Camera flashes exploded. I could already write the headlines myself:

[The Rock Bad Boy's Tender Side?]

[Family Duty, or Forbidden Love?]

My name is Amelia Wallis. I'm not just his wife—I've been his publicist for years.

Every scandal—backstage brawls, DUI rumors, compromising photos with supermodels—I've cleaned up every single one.

But this time, he lit a fire I can't put out.

The day after the funeral, Daisy moved in.

The first week, she kept quiet. By the second week, she started appearing in every crack and crevice.

—She brought him vitamin drinks, saying, "The tour's exhausting. You need to keep your energy up."

—At dinner, she'd cough softly and ask him to tell her about his stage stories.

—Late at night, she claimed heart palpitations and insisted he come to her room, said she could only fall asleep if he hummed a melody for her.

I'm no outsider to this game.

I'm a top-tier publicist. I know exactly what "branding" and "strategic positioning" look like.

Her fragility, her dependence—it's all carefully calculated.

And Damien—

He actually bought it.

He'd gently advise her, "Try lying on your side. It'll be more comfortable."

He even reached out to brush the hair from her face.

That moment, my chest tightened like a vice.

Five years ago, I gave up my seat on the family board, chose to marry the rock world's "bad boy," and became his dedicated publicist.

I thought I'd be the exception.

Now I understand—in his eyes, a pregnant sister-in-law is worth more protection than I am.

Late that night, I called my father from the study.

"Dad. I want a divorce."

...

"Amelia, what happened?" My father, a businessman worth hundreds of millions, asked with concern.

I told him everything that had been happening.

From being forced out of the master bedroom, to the late-night recording studio sessions, to Damien's tender "it'll be more comfortable"...

These fragments cut into my heart like knives, one slice at a time.

For five years of marriage, I'd tried my absolute best to be the perfect wife.

I'd stayed by his side from dive bar gigs to world tour stages.

I'd smoothed over countless negative press stories, whitewashing his "reckless libertine" image into "rock star authenticity."

I learned to be quiet, learned to bow my head, kept all my edges hidden backstage.

But what did I get in return? Neglect and dismissal.

He gave all his best patience and tenderness to another woman.

When I finished, my father's voice turned cold as ice. "Amelia, I support you. The Franklin Band's tour funding? That's all Wallis money. I can pull it anytime. Just make whatever decision you want."

I hung up, feeling an unprecedented calm.

Probably because I'd been disappointed for so long, I was already prepared for the end.

I looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror.

These years, I'd given everything to this marriage and almost forgotten who I used to be.

But starting now, things are going to change.

That night, I slept in the study.

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen.

Daisy was already there.

She was wearing Damien's stage jacket.

That red leather jacket with tour embroidery—I'd designed it myself, given it to him as a gift.

Every encore, he'd wear it on stage to thunderous applause.

Now it hung loose on her frame, unable to hide her swollen belly.

She hummed Damien's signature song while casually brewing coffee.

When she saw me, she smiled slightly, as if nothing had happened.

"Good morning, Amelia. Didn't sleep well? I heard you spent the night in the study."

I stared at that jacket, a dull pain throbbing in my chest.

My voice came out cold and flat. "Take it off."

Her smile froze, her eyes flickering.

"What... what?"

"I said, take off the jacket."

My tone was the same one I used in PR meetings to terminate a contract—cold and non-negotiable.