A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 115

Winifred approached the massive bed.

Iris propped up her foot, pointing to the exact spot that supposedly needed attention, while simultaneously interrogating her.

"Did you get the formula for the spray from Dr. Adams?"

"I did, but I don't have the necessary equipment to make it here," Winifred replied flatly, setting her medical bag down and pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

Iris leaned back against the headboard, feigning exhaustion. "Then what am I supposed to do about my foot? I have to be on set tomorrow. The entire reality show crew is waiting for me."

"Dr. Adams suggested an alternative treatment. I'm going to use moxibustion."

Iris blinked innocently. "Will it be completely healed after one session?"

"Yes."

"Are you one hundred percent sure?"

"Absolutely."

"But what if... you do this... and it still hurts?"

She was already laying the groundwork to shift the blame, setting a trap to pin a medical failure on Winifred.

Staring at the woman on the bed, a dark, murderous rage began to bubble up inside Winifred's chest.

She realized that letting go of the past was simply impossible. She had stepped back. She had endured. She had let Iris and Holden walk away. But they refused to grant her the same peace.

Iris had gotten exactly what she wanted. She had Holden, and with his endless resources, she had transformed from a nobody into a glittering A-list celebrity, living a life of absolute perfection.

Yet, it still wasn't enough. Iris was determined to back Winifred into a corner and destroy her completely.

Winifred met Iris's gaze, enunciating every single word with icy clarity.

"I am following Dr. Adams' explicit instructions. If you feel unwell after the procedure, then Dr. Adams will assume full responsibility."

Iris looked visibly disappointed and turned her face away. "Fine. Go ahead and start."

But a second later, she glanced over at the balcony, where Holden was sitting on a small sofa, working on his laptop.

"Holden," Iris called out, her voice dripping with sugar. "Are you almost done?"

Holden immediately looked up. "Is your foot hurting too much?"

When she was twenty, he had chartered a private jet just to fly back and see her. She had let him kiss her. He had held her, greedy and desperate for more, and in his arms, she had felt the overwhelming, unstoppable force of his love.

That same year, she became pregnant with his child. She had been overjoyed.

Holden was studying abroad and couldn't protect her, so she hid the pregnancy, nurturing the baby in secret as she waited for him to come home.

But she never expected the excruciating pain that hit her when she was four months along. The baby was already moving.

At one in the morning, the agony was so blinding she could only collapse on the bathroom floor.

And there, entirely alone, she lost her baby.

She hadn't even had the strength to stand up. But this was the child of the man she loved more than life itself. She wanted to see him. Trembling, she dragged herself across the tiles, bleeding and sobbing, and carefully picked up the tiny, fragile mass.

It was a little boy.

The sheer gravity of the grief nearly broke her mind. When she finally regained consciousness, the floor, her clothes, and her legs were covered in blood. Her blood, and her child's blood, dried together.

Terrified that Madeleine would find out and lash out at her, Winifred hadn't even dared to lie down. She cleaned the bathroom herself, scrubbing the tiles until the metallic smell of copper was gone, and fled to school before dawn.

For months afterward, she withered away—emaciated, hollow, and haunted by nightmares.