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Chapter 4 - The wedding night

I was left alone again.But this time, the silence didn't feel safe. It felt alive. Watching. Waiting.

"What did they mean by that?" I whispered to myself. "His other wives? Died? Why? Why would they—"

My forehead was slick with sweat. My chest was tight. I wanted Holan here, right now. He'd know what to do. He'd save me.

But he wasn't coming.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. My hands wouldn't stay still. I paced across the room again and again, my thoughts breaking apart like glass. And then my eyes landed on it — a knife, resting beside a fruit basket on the table.

The second I saw it, I lunged for it. My fingers wrapped around the handle, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping me alive. The metal gleamed in the light, cold and clean.

"I can't let him hurt me," I muttered. "He won't. He can't."

The words tumbled out over and over, a broken chant. Just staying in this room was driving me insane.

Then, the sound I dreaded most filled the air.

The door opened.

He walked in like a storm that didn't need thunder to be feared — calm, steady, absolute. Lucian.

He didn't need to raise his voice. His presence alone froze the air. Every inch of the room seemed to shrink when he stepped inside.

"Alright," he said quietly, like this was nothing more than a business deal. "Let's begin."

My stomach turned. "What do you mean?"

His gaze flicked toward the bed. "We'll start there. I don't plan to waste the whole night."

It took a second for his words to sink in. When they did, the floor seemed to vanish beneath me.

"Don't you dare," I breathed, my voice trembling. Then louder, "Whatever you're thinking—don't you dare come near me!"

He tilted his head slightly, almost amused. "Don't waste your breath. I've already spoken with your father. He took a generous payment. There's no going back."

For a moment, my mind blanked. Then fury hit. "What nonsense are you talking about? I'm an orphan!"

That made him pause — just for a heartbeat. Something flickered across his face, but it was gone too fast to read.

I stumbled back a few steps. "You're insane. You're not my husband. You're not even human!"

He kept walking, slow and unhurried, as if I hadn't said a thing.

"Stay back!" I lifted the knife, both hands shaking. "I swear, I'll use it!"

That stopped him — but not because he was afraid. Because he was curious.

His eyes dropped to the blade, then lifted to meet mine. "You're trembling," he said quietly. "And yet you still think you can hurt me?"

"Don't test me!" My voice cracked halfway through.

He smiled faintly. "You really are different. More stubborn than the others."

My stomach twisted. "The others?" I whispered. "So they were telling the truth. You did kill your other brides—"

His tone shifted instantly, sharp and dangerous. "Who told you that?"

The quiet way he said it made my blood run cold. I could feel the air in the room change.

He started moving again — faster this time.

My pulse pounded in my ears. I knew I couldn't fight him. He was too strong, too calm, too sure. There was only one thing left to do.

I turned the knife toward myself, pressing it against my throat. My voice shook. "If you're going to kill me, then I'll ruin the fun for you."

That stopped him dead. For the first time, something cracked in his expression. His eyes widened a fraction, his voice dropped low — rough, almost human.

"Put it down."

"Stay away," I whispered. "I'll do it."

His jaw tensed. "Put it down."

"Get out." The words came out broken. "Get out, or I swear I'll—"

"Put it down!" His voice hit like a whip — loud, sharp, desperate.

The blade nicked my skin. A thin line of blood slid down to my collarbone.

His eyes locked on it. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. For a second, I saw something shift behind his stare — something raw, conflicted, like he was fighting himself.

I pressed harder. "Leave me alone."

He exhaled, deep and uneven, like the control he lived by was slipping. Then, slowly, he turned. Walked to the door.

And left.

The lock clicked behind him.

I stood frozen, the knife still in my hand. My legs finally gave out, and I sank to the floor. The blade slipped from my fingers and hit the carpet with a dull thud.

My ears were ringing. Every sound felt distant and muffled, like I was underwater. "How do I reason with him?" I whispered to no one, my voice trembling. My hands were shaking so badly that when I reached for the wound on my neck, I nearly missed it. The cut burned under my touch, warm blood seeping between my fingers. The room felt smaller, closing in, air thick enough to choke on.

Then—movement. I stumbled back, heart in my throat. Two figures rushed inside, skirts brushing against the marble, carrying a small wooden box.

"Stay back!" I screamed before I could think, grabbing the knife again.

"Lady, it's us," the younger one said quickly, voice barely steady. "Master told us you got hurt."

My knees almost gave out. I blinked hard, trying to see clearly, but my vision was blurred with tears and fear. The older maid clicked her tongue, glaring at the younger one. "She's shaking," she hissed, tone sharp and low. "I told you not to tell her those things."

Before I could move, she was already kneeling before me, closing the distance I'd tried to keep. Her hand was surprisingly gentle as she reached for my neck. I wanted to pull away, but I was too weak to fight her off. The sting of alcohol made me flinch.

"This is a misunderstanding," I muttered, the words tumbling out between shallow breaths. "I'm not the girl he was supposed to marry. I have a fiancé. He's waiting for me. They'll come looking for me, any moment now…"

The words broke apart halfway through, turning into quiet sobs. I couldn't stop them.

The younger maid's lip trembled as she dabbed at the wound. Her eyes were wet too, though she tried to hide it. "Lady…" she whispered, voice cracking. "You shouldn't say those things. If he hears you—"

"If he hears me, what?" I snapped, desperation spilling over. "He'll kill me? Like the others?"

The younger one froze, and I saw guilt flash across her face before the older maid slapped her hard enough to make me flinch.

"Silence!" the older one barked, her voice trembling despite the harshness. "Don't say stupid things!"

"What does she mean?" I demanded, my voice rising. "What others?"

The younger maid's eyes darted to the door, terrified. Her voice was barely a breath. "Please forgive me, Lady… but it's true. The Master's wives, none of them ever lived long. So please be nice so that doesn't happen to you." With those words, the two stood up to leave. 

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