All Chapters of The Twisted Wedding Night: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I didn’t realize I was shaking until the door to my room closed behind me and the silence rushed in all at once.My legs gave out before my mind caught up, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, then tipped backward until I was flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling like it might explain what had just happened.Mr. Grant.He wasn’t a voice anymore. He wasn’t a rule printed into the air or a shadow behind locked doors. He wasn’t the unseen presence everyone adjusted themselves around.He was real.And terrifying.I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow my breathing. My heart was still racing, thudding hard against my ribs like it had been trying to escape him too.That was the first time he had ever stood in front of me.The first time I had seen his face.And it had taken Alice falling—something so small, so ordinary—to make him finally step out of hiding.The thought made my stomach twist.I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image of him came back instantly, sharp and unavoidable

Cruelty, when used properly, was a language.It didn’t shout. It didn’t swing wildly. It spoke in measured sentences and controlled proximity, in corrections delivered calmly enough that the recipient questioned their own reaction before questioning me.That was how order was restored.Lily had unsettled the balance.I knew it the moment I decided to sit at the breakfast table that morning. Not because I needed to. Not because it was efficient. But because the idea of her moving through my house without my oversight irritated me more than it should have.Visibility was leverage.She stiffened when she saw me. The reaction was immediate, instinctive. Good. Fear was a corrective force. It reminded people where they stood.Still, I watched her more closely than necessary as she helped Alice into her chair, noted the way she adjusted the hem of Alice’s sleeve, the way Alice leaned toward her without thinking. Familiarity bred access. Access bred influence.Influence was unacceptable.When

I had been tiptoeing around the house all morning, careful not to attract his attention, when I heard the soft giggle that made my chest tighten. Alice was in the sunroom, sprawled across a rug with her stuffed rabbit clutched against her chest. Her little feet kicked happily as she babbled in her own language, stacking blocks with a concentration I couldn’t help but admire.Then I heard him—the quiet shuffle of footsteps, deliberate, controlled. My stomach clenched. I expected his usual cold glare, the reprimand that hovered just under the surface of every interaction. Instead, I froze when he entered the room, and he wasn’t looking at me at all. His eyes were on Alice.“Look at that tower,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Careful now.”Alice turned her head, eyes wide. “Daddy! See?” she squealed, gesturing at the lopsided tower.He crouched down to her level, and my heart caught. For the first time, I saw him smile—not the rare, polite twitch I’d glimpsed before, but a full, gen

The ride back was quiet.Alice slumped against the leather seat beside me, her earlier excitement finally wearing itself out. Her fingers were still faintly sticky, her eyelids heavy as she traced lazy shapes against the window. The driver kept his eyes forward, the hum of the car steady and unobtrusive.I sat with my hands folded in my lap, very aware of the space Ace had left behind.He hadn’t said goodbye to me. Not really. Just instructions, delivered like a final stamp of authority, and then he was gone—already walking away before I could respond. The ease with which he exited situations unsettled me more than his presence ever did.Alice leaned closer, her head brushing my arm. “Daddy said no more sweets,” she murmured, already half-asleep.“I know,” I whispered. “You did very well today.”She smiled faintly at that and said nothing more.Back at the house, everything resumed its usual quiet efficiency. Alice was guided inside, shoes removed by staff before she could even ask. I

The house was unusually quiet that evening, the kind of silence that made every creak of the floorboards and soft hum of the air conditioning feel amplified. Alice had been sitting at the dining table, pushing her food around her plate, cheeks slightly flushed. Her usual chatter was gone, replaced by a small frown and occasional sighs. At first, I had tried to distract her with stories, playful questions, even a quick game with her crayons, but nothing seemed to break through her sudden lethargy.I pressed my fingers to her forehead while she wasn’t looking. Too warm. My heart skipped. “Alice?” I murmured gently. “Sweetheart, are you feeling okay?”Her small nod barely convinced me. “A little tired,” she whispered, leaning back against her chair.I took a deep breath and moved toward the intercom. “Margaret, can you have one of the doctors on call check on Alice immediately? She might be coming down with something.” My voice was calm, but my chest tightened. Alice wasn’t just tired; s