All Chapters of The Twisted Wedding Night: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Ace’s arms locked around me like steel, one hand firm at my waist, the other gripping my forearm to steady me. My breath came out in a sharp gasp as my feet barely found the floor again, the marble cold and unforgiving beneath my heels.For a second, the world tilted.Then Ace straightened fully, pulling me flush against his chest.“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low, urgent, vibrating through me.I shook my head, still dazed. “I—I’m fine.”That was all he needed to hear.The shift in him was immediate.He turned, placing himself squarely in front of me, his body a wall between Ella and me. I could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. The air around him felt charged, dangerous, like the calm before a storm.“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ace snapped.Ella didn’t flinch.She stood where she was, chin lifted, eyes blazing with something close to triumph. If anything, she looked pleased.“You saw that,” Ace continued, his voice ris

I slammed the door to my bedroom harder than necessary.The sound echoed through the room, sharp and final, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in my head. I stood there for a moment, staring at the darkened space, my chest rising and falling too fast. My hands clenched at my sides, fingers curling like I was still holding onto something I’d just lost.Lily.The way she’d pulled her hand from mine replayed on a loop. Not dramatic. Not angry. Just… resolute. Like she’d already made up her mind and was bracing herself for the fallout.Employer and employee.The words scraped against something raw inside me.I dragged a hand down my face and let out a slow breath, pacing the length of the room. Everything Ella had said still rang in my ears—loud, selfish, venomous. She had managed to turn every single thing into something about her. Her humiliation. Her inconvenience. Her entitlement.Not once had she cared about Alice.Not once had she stopped to consider Lily as a person.And that al

Alice didn’t wake when I laid her down.That alone felt like a small mercy.She curled instinctively onto her side, one tiny hand fisting the fabric of my sleeve even as sleep claimed her again. I stayed there longer than necessary, kneeling beside the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her lashes fluttered once, and she murmured something soft and unintelligible before settling.Only then did I breathe.The room was dim, lit by the warm glow of the night lamp. Everything felt fragile in here—quiet in a way that demanded care. I brushed my thumb lightly over her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead, and swallowed past the tightness in my throat.I couldn’t leave.That truth had settled into me with painful clarity.No matter how complicated things became. No matter how heavy my chest felt or how badly my heart ached. I couldn’t leave this side of the house. I couldn’t put distance between myself and Alice just to make things easier for myself.She needed me clos

I watched Alice disappear down the hall, her small footsteps fading into the distance. My chest tightened like it always did after moments like this—when she wanted something I wasn’t sure she should have. I clutched her tightly when she ran into the room earlier, but even in my arms, I felt the weight of the world pressing down, the unshakable need to shield her from anything that could hurt her.And yet… today, I couldn’t stop the pang of relief that came when Lily stepped in. She didn’t argue, didn’t raise her voice, didn’t push. She simply looked at me, calm and steady, and spoke in a way that pierced through the fog of my worry.She’s right, I admitted quietly to myself. I can’t steal away her moments. I can’t cage her in fear.Lily had taken my hands then. Just our hands, nothing more. Warm, familiar, grounding. It was a gesture small in size but enormous in its effect. I felt my tension ease slightly, the iron grip around my chest loosening. The truth was undeniable—I didn’t wa

The house was too quiet the night before the play.It wasn’t the peaceful kind of quiet—the kind that came with rest or satisfaction. It was the kind that crawled under your skin, that made every sound feel louder than it should have been. The ticking of the grandfather clock echoed down the hall. The hum of the security system felt intrusive. Even my own footsteps sounded like an accusation.Lily was upstairs.I knew because I’d passed Alice’s room earlier and heard her voice—soft, excited, reciting lines under Lily’s gentle encouragement. I hadn’t lingered, but the sound had burned itself into me anyway.Bright yellow flower, Alice had said proudly.The image made my stomach twist.I stood at the top of the staircase, fingers curled tightly around the railing, staring down at the polished marble floors below. Tomorrow was the play. Tomorrow Lily would sit in an audience full of parents and teachers, smiling like she belonged there. Like she had a claim. Like she was part of somethin