A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 174

"Now what?!"

Iris's voice was sharp with exasperation, drawn tight as a wire.

Madeleine knew no matter how gently she tried to explain, Iris wouldn't want to hear it. But she had to tell her. Iris was too naive, too trusting. Holden's intellect operated on an entirely different level, and Madeleine was terrified Iris would get played without even realizing it.

"Iris, that suitcase... that's the one..." she stammered, pointing a trembling finger. That was the suitcase they had stuffed Winifred into while she was unconscious before throwing her into the river.

Seeing it brought the nightmare rushing back. The memory slammed into Madeleine, leaving her shaking and breathless. She pressed a hand hard against her chest, desperately trying to keep her heart from hammering out of her ribs.

She couldn't tell Iris the full truth about the suitcase. She just couldn't.

Even after all these years, the memory terrified her. She had spent three months in the hospital recovering from her self-inflicted stab wound. The day Holden finally brought her home, she had looked at him and seen a dead man walking. His eyes were hollow, completely devoid of light.

When he had carried her upstairs, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and noticed, to her horror, stark white hairs threading through his dark hair.

The very next day, he vanished. He returned days later, walking through a torrential autumn downpour. Madeleine had watched him from an upstairs window—his broad shoulders slumped, his posture broken, clutching that filthy, ruined suitcase to his chest as he disappeared into the rain.

"What are you staring at?" Iris demanded, her eyes narrowing.

Madeleine swallowed hard, trapped in her panic. "I'm just saying... Holden dragged that suitcase out of the river and built a shrine around it. He might be trying to figure out exactly how she died. Or worse... he might be biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to take his revenge."

A cold sweat broke out across Madeleine's spine.

Iris looked at her as if she belonged in a psychiatric ward. The disgust and impatience in her eyes were palpable.

"Then just burn the stupid thing!" Iris hissed. "Burn it and see what Holden does."

Iris felt absolutely zero gratitude for the fact that Madeleine had nearly killed herself to secure Holden's love for her. Instead, she was deeply repulsed by this paranoid, dramatic older woman whose entire life had been spent clawing for status in a wealthy household. If given the choice, Iris wouldn't associate with someone so pathetic.

Madeleine spent three days in the ICU.

When she was finally transferred to a regular room, the first face she saw was Holden's. His tall frame stood in the doorway, his handsome face etched with profound exhaustion and worry.

"You were in there for three days," the nurse whispered to her. "Mr. Lockwood sat in the hallway the entire time. He never left your side."

"Holden..." Madeleine croaked, reaching out with trembling hands.

Holden immediately rushed to her side, gripping her hands tightly. "Mom. Are you feeling better?"

"I was so worried... that you'd be furious with me," she cried, tears spilling over her cheeks.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Holden leaned over, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, his voice impossibly tender. "You're my mother. You gave me life. In my eyes, you are always right. You never need to explain yourself to me. I believe in you, and I support every decision you make."