All Chapters of Shotgun Wedding: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Diana's POVThe alarm blared, tearing through the fog of my sleep. My hand slammed down to silence it, but the sudden movement sent a bolt of pain through my skull. I groaned and rolled onto my back, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead. My head throbbed like it was being squeezed in a vice.What did I do to deserve this headache?The night before unspooled in fragments, jagged and too sharp to hold for long. Gordon, cornering me, that predatory glint in his eyes. Lucas arrived with a gentleman, intercepting Gordon before things could spiral further. Lucas pulling me out, steadying me, saving me. Then the blur of motion after, me vomiting, his arms steadying me, his hands gentle as he bathed me.And then… the bed. His weight is above mine. My hands are clinging to him. Heat, skin, whispered words I can’t fully recall.My stomach lurched."Oh, shit." My whisper was a strangled cry into the silence of my room. "How could I have done this? Gordon, and now Lucas?"I buried my

Diana’s POVThe antiseptic tang of the hospital room clung to my nostrils, sharp enough to sting. I lay still on the bed, my body sinking into the thin mattress, my mind spinning. The steady beep of the monitor should have been calming. Instead, each sound felt like a countdown."I’m not leaving your side," Gordon said firmly, standing at the foot of the bed as though he were some kind of sentinel. "I’ll send someone to pick them up. Everything is done already."My heart stumbled over the words. Everything is done already? The phrase coiled in my head like a warning bell. Did that mean he’d planned this all along, the courthouse, the wedding, the rings? A trick disguised as fate?I pressed my lips together and stared at him in silence, refusing to give away the storm in my chest."Katherine," he said softly, his voice unsteady in a way that almost sounded human. "You don’t look happy. Please… don’t tell me you’re not happy to be my wife." His eyes searched mine with something like pai

Diana’s POVThe phone slipped from my fingers and thudded against the carpet, the screen going black. I stayed there, sitting on the floor with my back pressed to the side of the bed, my body heavy as stone. Hours must have passed because the room grew dim and shadows stretched across the walls, but I didn’t move.I had no more tears left in me, only the echo of his words.I wish you the best. Goodbye, Diana Wilson.If you want to go back to your pain, I won’t stop you.Every syllable had been carved into me like a blade. I replayed them again and again until they were all I could hear, drowning out even my own heartbeat. Lucas hadn’t just left. He had erased himself from my life, shut the door, sealed it, thrown away the key.And the worst part? I hadn’t realised how much I’d come to rely on him until he was gone. Just a week and a handful of days, that was all it had taken for me to start believing I wasn’t completely alone. Now the silence around me felt unbearable.My phone sudden

Diana’s POVGordon looked strained, the worry etched deep in his face, but I brushed past him and dropped onto the couch as if he wasn’t even there."I won’t let her bother you," he said quietly.The softness in his tone made me glance up. For a moment, I just studied him, trying to make sense of this new version of Gordon Smith. The man I’d known five years ago had no heart, only hunger and ego. I’d assumed this kindness was temporary, part of his act to reel me in again. A week had passed, and he was still keeping up the performance.Let’s see how long the show lasts.A knock at the door broke the silence. Gordon attended to it, his body covering the entrance.He turned back to me. "Supper is ready," he said, his voice calm but clipped.I nodded. I already knew the way to the dining room, but I waited for him to lead, pretending I didn’t. To him, I was Katherine, the new wife. Not the ghost of the one he’d destroyed.The dining room looked exactly as it had five years ago. Gordon ev

Diana’s POVI changed into fresh clothes and sat before the mirror, untangling my hair with slow, steady strokes. The brush glided through the strands, but my reflection looked foreign, too calm for someone just released from a cell. Maybe that was the trick: learn to look unbothered until no one can tell how fractured you are inside.A knock came at the door."Come in," I said, still watching my reflection.A servant stepped in, head bowed. "Good afternoon, ma’am. Lunch is ready."I turned slightly toward her. "Is Gordon back?""No, ma’am.""Then I’m fine. You may go."She nodded and slipped out, the door closing softly behind her.I exhaled. Gordon wasn’t home. Good. I wasn’t ready to sit across from Mrs Smith and Tracy at that long, suffocating dining table, pretending the air didn’t choke me. I’d had enough drama for one day.Skipping lunch wasn’t an act of defiance; it was a strategy. Silence buys space to think.And I had a plan.If anyone could help me untangle the strange beha