All Chapters of The Twisted Wedding Night: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The doors closed behind them, and the house went unnervingly still.No shouting. No footsteps. No smug laughter echoing through marble halls.Just silence.It rang in my ears, sharp and disorienting, like I’d stepped out of a storm too fast. My hands were trembling, though I hadn’t realized it until I tightened my grip around the ceramic cup I was still holding. I set it down slowly, afraid I might drop it if I didn’t.Ace stood across from me.Alone now.No audience. No enemies to shield me from what came next.My chest felt too tight, like something inside me was clawing to get out.“Lily,” he said quietly.The sound of my name was the last straw.I laughed — a short, broken sound that startled even me. “Don’t.”He stopped.“I need to talk to you,” he said.“No,” I replied immediately, shaking my head. “You don’t. You want to. That’s different.”He took a step forward anyway, careful, like he was approaching something unpredictable. “You deserve an explanation.”I turned on him so f

I watched Lily sit on the couch, shoulders tight, eyes fixed somewhere just past me, like she was bracing for another blow.Every instinct in me wanted to stay right there. To say something—anything—that might ease the strain etched into her face. But I knew better. If I pushed now, I’d only make it worse. She needed space. And I needed to deal with the storm that had just walked through my front doors wearing my mother’s face.“I need to go greet her properly,” I said carefully. Neutral. Controlled.Lily didn’t look at me at first.I shifted my weight, lowering my voice. “Can you check on Alice? She’s probably still shaken.”That got her attention. She glanced up, just briefly, then nodded. No argument. No defiance. Just a quiet, resigned acceptance that twisted something sharp in my chest.“Of course,” she said, already standing.I stepped aside as she passed me, catching the faintest trace of her perfume, the tension clinging to her like static. She didn’t look back.I waited until

I’m halfway down the stairs when Alice’s voice drifts after me.“Lily?”“I’m here,” I call back softly. “I’m just getting you something to eat.”She hums in response, the sound small but trusting, and it steadies me as I reach the bottom step. The house is quieter than usual at this hour, too quiet. Even my footsteps sound intrusive against the polished floor.The kitchen lights are already on.That makes me pause.I’m sure I turned them off earlier.I push the unease aside and head in anyway, opening the pantry and crouching down to scan the lower shelves where Alice’s things are kept. Crackers. Dried fruit. The little applesauce pouches she likes even though she insists she’s “not a baby.”I grab two options, just in case.That’s when the front door opens, followed by the unmistakable scrape of wheels across marble, and every muscle in my body stills.I straighten slowly and turn.Ella steps into view.She’s dragging a large suitcase behind her, one hand wrapped loosely around the h

I closed the door behind me and let my shoulders sag—just enough to look exhausted, just enough to invite concern.Aunty Willow was already inside, removing her coat with deliberate care, every movement precise. She didn’t rush to me. She never did. That was fine. I knew how to bridge the distance.I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her again, pressing my face into her shoulder like I’d been holding myself together by sheer will alone.“Oh, Aunty Willow,” I said, my voice catching perfectly. “I’m so relieved you’re here.”Her hand came up, resting between my shoulder blades. Firm. Reassuring. Exactly where I wanted it.“There, there,” she murmured. “Sit down. You look worn out.”I obeyed, lowering myself onto the edge of the bed, letting out a shaky breath as if I’d been carrying something heavy for far too long. She watched me closely, her expression unreadable, and I knew better than to rush. Willow Grant valued composure—but she valued vulnerability when it was offered c

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Aunty Willow said, her tone deceptively calm. “Come with me.”Curiosity sparked immediately.I followed her without hesitation as she turned down the corridor leading to her private suite. This wasn’t an invitation she extended lightly. Willow Grant did nothing without intention, and the fact that she hadn’t continued speaking already told me this wasn’t a casual conversation.Inside her room, the air felt heavier. The curtains were half drawn, muting the morning light, and everything was pristine in that cold, deliberate way that always made me feel like I was stepping into a strategy room rather than a bedroom.She closed the door behind us.Then she locked it.The soft click echoed, sharp and final, and my curiosity tipped into unease.I turned to her. “What’s wrong?”She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked past me, smoothing the sleeve of her blouse as she went, and poured herself a glass of water. Her movements were unhurried. Co