The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride
Chapter 88: Event day

Chapter 88: Event day

She searched his eyes. As if trying to tell if he was saying the truth or not.

"Then... what about beating him up? Stabbing him? Strangling him, or trying to throw him off the rooftop?" Her gaze flickered to Gavin at the last part, then back to Hades, demanding an answer.

He didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at her, his expression a complex mix of anger, confusion, and something unreadable. It was as if he had a thousand things to say, yet no words felt adequate. His usual cold, aloof demeanor was strained, showing a rare vulnerability in the face of her fury.

"I wish to return to Block A," Alice stated, her voice suddenly flat, drained of emotion. The chaos, the revelations, the sheer brutality of his world – it was too much.

She turned to walk away, to escape, but he was faster. He grabbed her arm before she could take another step.

Mistake. It was the injured arm. She winced sharply, a sharp gasp escaping her lips, and he let go immediately, too quickly, too fast, as if burned. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, registered a flash of concern, of self-reproach, before hardening again.

"What?!" Alice yelled, turning back to him, her voice raw with pain and frustration.

"You are already here," Hades said, his voice low, almost desperate. "You can’t go back there."

"I can’t stay here." Her voice came out more vulnerable than she cared to admit, a raw, exposed wound. "You... scare me. I don’t know when it’s going to be my turn. When you would lose it and stab me. I don’t... want to live in fear." The last words were barely a whisper, thick with genuine terror.

His anger flared then, a fierce, protective heat. "I only had one vow during our wedding. And that was protecting you. If I have to stab a thousand people, why is that so wrong?" He looked genuinely confused, his dark eyes searching hers for an understanding she couldn’t give. He truly saw nothing wrong with his actions, a terrifying realization for Alice.

Alice looked at him in disbelief, a bitter laugh bubbling up. "A vow you didn’t even read yourself?!" She scoffed, shaking her head. "A fake arranged wedding like that?"

She pulled the estate key pass, the car key, and the black card out of her pocket, the hard plastic and metal digging into her palm. Her voice rose, raw with accusation and finality. "Stop kidding yourself. We are only married on paper. There is no sincerity. You tracked me. After I told you I didn’t want to be tracked. You knew exactly where I was. Exactly what I was doing. Flower shop? Don’t kid me. I don’t need anything from you. Let’s stay as strangers from now on." She shoved them into his chest, forcing him to take them. He didn’t. They all fell on the floor.

"Don’t try to do anything for me from now on," she said one last time, her gaze sweeping over the three men.

Gavin stared blankly, a familiar, unsettling emptiness in his eyes. Rowan and Milo immediately avoided eye contact, looking at the floor, uncomfortable witnesses to the unraveling drama.

She turned and walked away, her steps firm, despite the throbbing pain in her arm and the turmoil in her head.

Hades watched her back, heavy disbelief clouding his face. He stood there for a long moment. Then, with a sudden, violent movement, he turned and stormed back inside the room. It was a study, sleek and minimalist. He stalked to a hidden panel, pressed something, and a secret door slid open. He disappeared inside, the others following him in grim silence. Milo picked up the items before he joined them.

On a large, flat screen mounted on the wall, there was already the news of Derren, confirming that it was precisely why they were all gathered there this morning.

Hades sat down heavily in a leather chair, his eyes deep, dark, and utterly unreadable.

"Why didn’t you just tell her we didn’t do that to Derren?" Gavin said, breaking the suffocating silence first, taking his seat.

Hades didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the screen, his jaw clenched.

"It depends on what ’that’ means," Rowan muttered, hedging. "He did beat him up and cut him, but well, yeah. Not the excessive parts. Not the drugs or the strangling. But..." He quickly shut his mouth when both Milo and Gavin glared at him.

Hades looked like he had burned to the apex of his fury, a silent, seething rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. Before they knew it, the heavy ceramic coffee mug in front of him had crashed to the wall beside him. It shattered at once, splintering into shards against the expensive wallpaper.

A dark glint filled his eyes, a dangerous, possessive fire.

She wanted to get away from him.

"How cute," he said, his voice a low, chilling whisper, utterly devoid of warmth.

The others. "..." Their silence was a heavy, palpable thing. They knew that tone. It was the tone that promised a storm.

"About today’s event..." Hades started.

*****

Alice didn’t say a word when Suzy arrived. She simply stood by the open door of the car, the cool morning air doing little to soothe the burning exhaustion that gnawed at her. Suzy climbed out from the front seat, already dressed in a fitted tracksuit, her neck covered with a stylish, high-collared scarf, a flimsy disguise for the bandage beneath.

Suzy wasn’t the only one hiding her injuries. Alice, too, wore a long-sleeved top, a bad idea in the rising heat but her only way to conceal the fresh cut on her forearm. Her lip, however, was unhideable. At least the medication she’d dabbed on it had reduced the swelling, so she didn’t look overtly disfigured.

Suzy’s eyes were unreadable, shadowed with unspoken guilt and lingering fear. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You ready?"

Alice simply nodded, her gaze fixed on some indeterminate point beyond Suzy’s shoulder. Neither of them said anything more. The air between them was thick with the weight of last night, a silent acknowledgment of the violence they had witnessed, the terror they had felt, and the impossible secret they now shared.

Suzy’s brother, Wilson, leaned slightly from the driver’s seat. He gave Alice a nod, neutral, polite, but his eyes lingered a second too long on her cut lip, a flicker of concern that he quickly suppressed. When Suzy got in the front seat and Alice took the back, Wilson’s eyes flicked between the rearview mirror and the road. He didn’t ask questions, but the oppressive silence in the car spoke volumes.

The drive to the venue was painfully quiet, each mile stretching Alice’s already frayed nerves. She stared out the window, watching. She didn’t speak. She didn’t blink much either, her eyes feeling dry and gritty.

The venue was already a hive of activity when they arrived. Rows of colorful tents were half-assembled, banners still tangled from the night winds, and a few people in half-dressed vests hurried around, setting things up for the "Exercise and Wellness Day." The vibrant chaos felt jarringly out of place with Alice’s inner turmoil.

Linda, naturally, was already in full gear, a paragon of perfect, obnoxious enthusiasm.

"Look who showed up early," she chirped when she saw Alice and Suzy approaching, her voice sickly sweet, dripping with thinly veiled condescension. "I wasn’t sure you’d be able to lift anything with all that fragility."

Alice didn’t rise to the bait. The petty taunts were insignificant compared to the gnawing dread in her stomach. She just looked Linda dead in the eye, her own gaze flat and devoid of emotion. "I’m not in the mood," she stated, her voice calm but unwavering.

Linda faltered, her smug smile wavering for a fraction of a second.

"I’ll do what I can," Alice added, her tone signaling the end of the conversation.

Then she turned her back on Linda and walked towards the nearest booth, seeking the anonymity of labor. She began helping set up, pulling out crates of water bottles, aligning flyers with mechanical precision, and adjusting chairs in silence. Her injured hand ached with each box she lifted, a dull, persistent throb, but she kept moving, pushing through the pain. She didn’t smile. Didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t even look at her reflection when someone offered a small mirror during the vest check, unwilling to face the battered woman staring back.

By 10 a.m., people were already filing in with numbered tags, a steady stream of excited chatter filling the air. A loudspeaker buzzed with garbled instructions. Morning stretches began on the main field, a sea of synchronized movements. And somewhere in the crowd, kids were already laughing and racing for the colorful balloons tied to trees – something Linda was loudly complaining about, demanding their immediate removal.

Alice stood by the booth like a statue. Someone handed her a vest, a vibrant blue. It was her team color. She slipped it on over her long-sleeved top, the bright fabric feeling like a costume, a gaudy splash of color against her dull mood. It felt like she was in costume for a life she didn’t fit into, a role she was profoundly ill-equipped to play.

Then came the inevitable blow.