All Chapters of The Wrong Bride, His Revenge: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and goodbye. I was thirteen years old, but I already knew how to lie. My mother taught me. Not with words. With the way she smiled at my father across the dinner table while her eyes said something else entirely.She lay in the bed now, skin gray, eyes too bright. The machines beeped a countdown only she could hear. I sat on the edge of the chair, hands folded in my lap. I did not cry. Crying was a tell. Crying made you weak. My mother had told me that a hundred times.Come closer, she whispered.I leaned in. Her hand was cold and bony. It gripped my wrist with a strength that should not have been possible for a dying woman.Your real name is not Mira, she said. It is Sable.I frowned. I did not understand. I had always been Mira. Mira Thorne, the oldest daughter. The quiet one. The one my father forgot to introduce at parties. But my mother was looking at me like she was seeing someone else entirely.I don't understand, I said.You will, she

I woke to the smell of cedar and a hand on my hip.His hand. Still there. Exactly where it had been when I fell asleep. Rex Marchetti had not moved an inch. His breathing was slow, even. Eyes closed. Dark lashes against sharp cheekbones. He looked almost peaceful. Almost human.I should have slipped out from under his touch. I should have used the bathroom to text Lin. Instead, I lay there and watched him breathe.His thumb moved. Just a small circle on my hip bone. Then his eyes opened.Storm clouds. Dark. Unreadable.You stare at all your enemies like that, wife? His voice was rough from sleep. Or just me?I sat up fast. The silk camisole I was wearing slipped off one shoulder. I pulled it back up.Who changed my clothes?He sat up slowly. The sheet fell to his waist. His chest was all muscle and scars. I did not look. I looked.Mrs. Park, he said. She runs the house. She said you would be more comfortable.I did not feel comfortable. I felt exposed. My phone was gone. My clothes we

Isabella stood in the doorway. Shaking. Her perfect hair was messy. Her dress was wrinkled. She looked like someone who had just seen a ghost.Or a corpse.Rex was already moving. Gun in hand. He grabbed my wrist. Pulled me off the bed.Stay behind me, he said.I did not argue. I grabbed my dress from the floor. Pulled it over my head. No underwear. No time.Isabella led us down the hall. Through the kitchen. Past Mrs. Park's room. Her door was closed. Light underneath. She was awake. Listening.We reached the east wing. Victor's room. The door was open.The smell hit me first.Death has a smell. Sweet. Rotting. My mother's hospital room had smelled like that at the end. I stopped breathing through my nose.Rex went in first. Gun raised. He scanned the room. Then lowered the weapon.He is alone, Rex said. No one else.I stepped inside.Victor Thorne sat in his armchair. His hands were folded in his lap. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleeping. But his skin was gray. His l

My mother walked into the mansion like she owned it.She stopped in the center of the foyer. Turned slowly. Looked at the chandeliers. The marble floors. The portraits of dead men on the walls."Rex has good taste," she said. Her voice was exactly how I remembered. Low. Calm. Like she had all the time in the world."You have no right to be here," I said.She turned to face me. Her green eyes met mine. "I have every right. I am your mother.""You faked your death.""Yes.""For ten years.""Yes.""You let me grieve. You let me plan revenge against a dead man. You let me turn myself into a weapon."She tilted her head. "And look how well you turned out."I wanted to hit her. I wanted to scream. I did neither.Rex moved to stand beside me. His hand found the small of my back. A warning. A promise."Mrs. Thorne," he said. "Welcome to my home."She smiled. "Thank you, Rex. I see you have been taking care of my daughter.""She is my wife.""Yes. I know. I arranged it."The words hung in the

I ran.The hallway blurred past me. The stairs. The front door. The cold night air hit my face. I did not stop. I could not stop. If I stopped, I would have to think. And if I thought, I would have to feel.And I did not want to feel anything.The garden was dark. The roses were invisible. I walked to the wall. Leaned against the cold stone. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.Rex killed my father.My husband killed my real father.The man who touched me. Who kissed me. Who said he loved me. He put poison in Dante Marchetti's glass.I wanted to throw up.Footsteps behind me. Slow. Careful."I told you not to follow me.""I know."Rex stopped a few feet away. Did not come closer. His hands were in his pockets. His face was in shadow."Say something," he said."Say what? That I hate you? That I want to kill you? That I wish I had never signed that contract?""Say anything. Just... say something."I turned to face him. The moonlight hit his face. He looked older. Tired. Sca