The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride
Chapter 91: The Race

Chapter 91: The Race

Hades’s voice was quiet. But his group picked the energy.

Rowan and Milo exchanged glances. Gavin, ever the unperturbed observer, merely blinked slowly. No one dared answer, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.

Hades hadn’t moved from his seat. His hands were still folded in front of him, a picture of deceptively calm power, but now one finger tapped, a slow, relentless, threatening rhythm on the polished wooden armrest of his chair.

His eyes were on Alice.

She was still laughing faintly as she pulled the velcro strap from her leg, Dawin still crouched beside her, his hand near her ankle as he helped untie it. They made a perfect, infuriating picture of camaraderie and triumph.

"You told me this was a wellness event," Hades said to no one in particular, his voice low, deceptively even.

Rowan cleared his throat nervously. "It... it is, boss."

"That," Hades continued, his gaze never leaving Alice, "was not wellness."

"It was a race, boss," Gavin said evenly, though even he sounded uncertain, a rare flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched Hades’s barely contained rage. "A paired race."

Below, Alice had finally gotten the strap off. She handed it to one of the volunteers, brushed her wind-tangled hair back, and straightened, her flushed face radiating a vibrant energy.

That radiant smile was gone now.

She turned, and her eyes, still bright with adrenaline, met his across the vast expanse of the field.

Just for a second.

The air between them, despite the distance, seemed to crackle and then still.

She could feel it from across the distance.

The glare. It was pure fury. Cold, deep, burning.

He could feel hers. Cold, deep, judgemental.

She held his stare a moment longer than she should have, a defiant challenge. And then, calmly, deliberately, she turned her back on him.

Dawin was already handing her a bottle of water, his hand brushing hers as he did.

Alice didn’t take it. She instead focused on receiving her medal.

Beside Dawin.

The crowd was clapping again. But it was obvious it was more for Dawin than Alice.

A tiny scoff made its way out of Hades’ lips.

His next words were quiet. Too quiet.

"Get her. Off. That. Field." His voice was a low, laced with a barely leashed violence.

Rowan’s voice was rushed. "Boss, she’s about to run again. We can’t just..."

Hades turned his head sharply, his dark eyes snapping to Rowan. "What?"

"She’s running the final race." Rowan stammered, pointing vaguely.

Hades’s brow twitched, a faint vein pulsing at his temple. "Why the hell is she all over the place?"

"Miss Clarkson assigned her to those. According to intel, Miss Linda Clarkson really dislikes Miss Boss and has been bullying her in public." Milo explained quickly.

"Who is she?" Hades asked. He sounded uninterested. But Gavin was smarter than that. He knew that "uninterested" tone. It was a very interested one.

Gavin leaned back against the pavilion railing, arms crossed as he watched Hades. "Don’t cause a scene. Your little bride can take care of herself."

Hades didn’t reply, his attention already elsewhere. His eyes narrowed, cutting across the field in search of the vibrant blue vest that had just triggered every damn nerve in his body. He spotted her.

Alice stood near the starting line for the new race, bent slightly as she adjusted her shoelaces, prrparing for her race.

Her sleeves were still down despite the climbing heat. Her cut lip was still visible, a small, dark mark against her flushed skin. Her face drenched in quiet defiance was unreadable from this distance, but the memory of her defiant glare, the way she had turned her back on him... ah!

She was pushing his buttons.

He didn’t like that.

She hadn’t even looked in his direction since that fleeting eye contact after the three-legged race. And that annoyed him more than he could explain.

I mean, he had come here because of her. Yet, she was blatantly cheating right in front of his face.

He really disliked women.

The loudspeaker cracked to life, its voice booming across the field.

"And now, the final race of the day! The mixed house sprint. Three laps around the track, five house representatives, only one winner."

A buzz stirred the crowd, a palpable surge of excitement.

The announcer continued, this time with a tone too smug for comfort, too eager to draw out the reveal. "This time, we’re not just giving medals. This is a personal prize. The fastest individual runner wins—drumroll please—a car!"

It seemed like only Alice was surprised by that announcement. No one else seemed particularly interested in the prize, their attention already fixed on the potential spectacle.

Suzy had told her these games usually came with no prizes. Just... Honour.

So of course, she wasn’t planning on doing her best. Just run and fail like they wanted her to do. Because she was of course, Aurora.

But now...

"A brand-new, latest-release F139 model, courtesy of one of our partners, Dimithri Clarkson, who accidentally added it to his delivery cart and does no longer desire it." The man in question, a middle-aged figure who was clearly the male version of Linda, stood and waved at the crowd with an irritatingly self-satisfied smile.

Cheers erupted, louder and more enthusiastic than anything heard all day at the mention of the car model. People began to press toward the track fences, eager for a closer look at the race.

Alice straightened slowly, blinking as the words registered, filtering through her adrenaline-haze. A car? Her own car?

Her heart began pounding again. This was something real. Something useful. Something she desperately needed, a taste of genuine independence she hadn’t dared to dream of since arriving here.

Linda sidled up to her, her lips curling in smugness, clearly enjoying the impending public failure she envisioned. "You sure you want to humiliate yourself again? Or are you hoping Dawin’ll carry you across the finish line too?"

Alice didn’t even look at her. The petty insults were inconsequential now. "I’ll do my best for our team." Her voice was quiet, firm, radiating a new, fierce determination.

Linda’s smile faltered, her face twisting in frustration. "Be my guest. I’m sure only you would try to kill yourself for a car here," she shrugged, stepping back, a malicious glint in her eye. "Maybe this time, they’ll drag you off the field in a stretcher."

Alice could not even bother about her. She thought Aurora would kill herself for a car? Wait until she met Alice.

Yes. She would kill herself for it. Even if it was coming from Linda’s family, that would be a reward to her for tolerating their daughter’s bullshit.

And when Vivian wakes up, she would deliver the car to her. And fill it up with presents.

The whistle blew.

And Alice took off.

Three laps.

Five runners: three men, two women.

Alice wasn’t the fastest. Not at the start. Her limbs felt stiff, her injured hand ached with every sway of her arm. The sun was hot, beating down on the track. Her breath stung her throat, burning with each inhale. But she didn’t stop. Not even close.

Lap one... she kept behind the pack, breathing hard, legs warming up, her heart pounding loud in her ears, a frantic drumbeat of effort.

Lap two... someone had dropped off pace, already spent. Alice pushed forward, overtaking the young man ahead of her, then the lady in the red house vest stumbled, clutching her side. One more gone.

Only two people ahead now. Green and yellow house.

Everyone was busy cheering for either Green or Yellow. No one cared about her. Blue.

But then, when she got ahead, she heard Suzy’s clear voice cheering for her to win. Alice saw her briefly and smiled at her, a quick, shared moment of connection. Suzy was in a yellow vest but she was waving a small blue flag, her loyalty clear.

Lap three... burn it all.

She didn’t think. There was no room for thought, for fear, for the suffocating weight of this life. She didn’t remember the bruises or the intrusive crowd or the whispers. She didn’t remember her lip or her fake marriage or the war happening in her brain.

She just... ran.

Ran like this was the only thing that could make her feel alive. Like this was the only piece of control she still had. This was hers. This one, solitary act.

Each breath was a fight, a desperate gasp for air.

Each step, a scream of effort.

Each swing of her arm, a silent rebellion against everything that tried to hold her down.

The crowd, which had started murmuring again, then gasping in surprise, now erupted into outright cheering, a thunderous roar that filled the air.

Because...

She was catching up.

Hardy had leaned forward in his seat, his cool composure momentarily forgotten. Linda stood frozen, her jaw agape, her eyes wide with disbelief. Caroline actually lowered her sunglasses, her disdain momentarily eclipsed by shock. The young man ahead of her turned his head mid-run, his eyes blinking in disbelief as Alice’s shadow fell over him.

Alice was flying.

As they approached the final bend, she pushed past the man in green with sheer, raw determination, her shoes hammering into the track.

Only the young man was still ahead.