Married To The Villain
Chapter 52: Liquid Courage And Scars

Chapter 52: Liquid Courage And Scars

Chapter 52: Liquid Courage and Scars

"Let’s rest..."

’Let’s rest?’ She repeated in her head...’after the humiliation I went through for you, that’s all you can say?’ She bit her lip.

Lirian stormed into her chambers, slamming the door behind her.

The energy of the tea party and the constant pressure of keeping up with Gabriel’s dangerous world had actually pushed her to her limit.

Her reflection in the gilded mirror looked as tired as she felt, but she wasn’t about to let herself break.

Not yet.

"If the plot’s broken," she muttered, reaching for a crystal decanter of wine on the nearby table, "then I’ll fix it myself."

She poured herself a generous glass, then another, ignoring the nagging voice in her head that warned this was a terrible idea.

If the world insisted on being out of her control, she would rewrite it on her terms.

Gabriel, the man who was supposed to hate and kill her, had become her lifeline, and if she needed to seduce him to ensure her survival, so be it.

By the third glass, her goal was ironclad—or as close to it as drunken courage could manage.

Staggering to her wardrobe, she rifled through her gowns, tossing aside layer after layer of fabric.

Nothing seemed dramatic enough, bold enough, dangerous enough.

In her intoxicated haze, she settled on a thin silk chemise, loose enough to cling in all the right places.

"Perfect," she slurred, pulling it over her head.

She stumbled toward the door, her bare feet padded against the cold stone floor.

Gabriel was back in his study, poring over documents and maps when a commotion echoed from the hallway.

The sound of Lirian’s voice, loud and noisy, drew his attention.

"Gabriel!" she called, pushing open the door without waiting for an answer.

He froze, his quill suspended in midair.

Lirian was standing in the doorway, her hair disheveled, her face flushed, and her chemise clinging precariously to her frame.

"Lirian," he said slowly, rising to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"I’m here," she declared, her words slightly slurred, "to rewrite the story. My story. Our story."

Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he stepped toward her. "You’re drunk."

"I am inspired," she corrected, pointing a finger at him. "And you—" She hiccupped. "You’re supposed to hate me, but you don’t. So now, I’ll make you love me instead."

Gabriel’s lips parted, caught between disbelief and intrigue by his wife’s sudden actions. "Lirian, you need to—"

Before he could finish, she tugged the hem, letting it slip from her shoulder.

Gabriel’s eyes widened as if he saw a ghost.

"Stop!" he barked, loud enough to cut through her drunken phase.

"Why?" she challenged, taking a wobbly step toward him.

"This is what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t this how these things work? The villainess seduces the hero?"

"Lirian," he mumbled. "Put your clothes back on."

She ignored him, the chemise slipped further down her arm as she attempted to step closer.

Gabriel took a quick glance at the open door, where two curious maids were peeking in.

"Out," he ordered, his voice vibrated through the hall. "All of you, out. Now!"

The servants scattered like startled birds, leaving him alone with Lirian, who was now leaning against the desk for balance.

"I’m not weak," she said suddenly, though she was trembling. "I’m not going to die in this stupid story. I’ll make you love me, and then I’ll—"

Her words lowered as Gabriel moved closer, catching sight of the marks on her back as the fabric shifted.

His stomach twisted.

The scars weren’t faint—they were deep, angry lines that criss crossed her skin, each one looked closer to pain and cruelty.

"Lirian," he said softly, with something she couldn’t quite place. "What happened to you?"

She blinked at him, not standing quite well. "What?"

He stepped closer, gently turning her so he could see her back more clearly. "These scars... Were you whipped?"

She froze, the memory of her father went through her mind like a bolt of lightning.

"It’s none of your business," she muttered, pulling away from him.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened, his hands trembling from anger. "Who did this to you?"

"I said it doesn’t matter," she snapped, and stumbled back. "You’re my enemy, remember? You don’t get to care!"

"I’m not your enemy, Lirian," he replied gently. "And you don’t have to do this—any of this. You don’t have to drink yourself into oblivion or pretend to be something you’re not."

Her eyes filled with tears, her shoulders slumped as her act crumbled.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" she whispered. "Let myself die? Let the story play out the way it’s written?"

Gabriel hesitated, his chest tightened at the sight of her vulnerability.

"You don’t have to follow anyone’s story," he said quietly. "You can write your own." He didn’t quite understood what Lirian meant,

She laughed bitterly, wiping at her eyes.

"That’s easy for you to say. You’re the hero now. You’re supposed to win...but later on, we’ll both die..."

Gabriel stepped closer, he was more insistent.

"Lirian, listen to me. You’re stronger than you think. And you don’t need to seduce me or anyone else to prove that. You’ve already survived so much. That’s more than enough."

’Why would she say we’re both gonna die?’ He thought to himself.

She stared at him, her tears spilling over as the kind words sank in.

Gabriel reached out, his hand rested gently on her shoulder.

"Let me help you," he said. "Not because of the story. Not because of fate. Because I want to."

For a long moment, Lirian didn’t speak. Then, with a shaky breath, she nodded.

Gabriel guided her to a chair, draping a blanket over her shoulders as she sat down.

"Stay here," he said softly. "I’ll bring you some water."

As he left the room, Lirian buried her face in her hands, dealing with too many conflicting emotions.

She wasn’t sure what scared her more—the scars of her past or the possibility of a future she couldn’t predict.

In the hallway, Gabriel paused, his fists clenched as anger flowed through him.

Her father that hurt her would have to pay. But for now, his focus was on helping her heal.

One step at a time.