A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 175

"Oh, Holden..."

A wave of profound regret washed over Madeleine. She should have listened to Iris. She should have trusted the reality of Holden's love for his fiancée.

There had been no need to go to such extreme lengths—disabling the security cameras, staging a fire, burning down the Ancestral Wing, and pulling off this dangerous stunt. Her little 'accident' had only succeeded in terrifying her devoted son.

And unlike framing Winifred—who was a nobody that no one cared about—burning down the Ancestral Wing was a massive scandal. The extended Lockwood family was already gossiping, and when her husband Roland found out, it would undoubtedly chill their already fragile marriage further.

Madeleine broke down, sobbing pathetically. "Holden, I accidentally burned Winifred's things. Can you ever forgive me?"

Holden leaned down, carefully wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight, emotional embrace.

And then, unexpectedly, he began to weep.

"Why would I blame you?" he choked out. "You're my mother. You love me. You always put me first. I know you only went to the shrine to light incense for her to help me let go of my guilt. You just wanted me to be happy and unburdened before I marry Iris. You did all that for me. How could I ever be angry that a spark caught on that ruined suitcase?"

He pulled back slightly, his expression hardening with resolve. "That shrine meant nothing. She's dead to me. That garbage suitcase meant nothing. When I saw her in Kingsbridge and realized she'd faked her death to play me for a fool, I wanted to strangle her myself. Even if the fire hadn't happened, I was going to order the shrine torn down anyway. From now on, it's only Iris. Winifred has no place in my life."

"Holden..." Madeleine's heart swelled until she thought it might burst.

Everything really had changed. The brilliant, perfect Iris had completely eclipsed the woman who had caused Holden so much pain.

Winifred was truly, finally, a ghost of the past.

Madeleine buried her face in Holden's chest, listening to him cry with the vulnerability of a child. She patted his back soothingly. "Don't cry. I'm okay. The fire didn't reach me; I just inhaled some smoke. It's all over now. You have Iris to love you and stand by your side. She'll heal everything Winifred broke."

Holden held her tighter. "Thank God you're safe. If I had lost you..."

The hospital room door pushed open, and Iris breezed in, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Did you hear that?" she asked smugly. "See for yourself?"

Madeleine smiled thinly. "Please, Dr. Shultz, step forward."

Winifred stepped out from the background. Her legs felt like lead, and her eyes were wide with poorly concealed shock.

Madeleine was alive.

Three years ago, Winifred had seen the vicious knife wound with her own eyes. Madeleine had been in a coma for over twenty days, and Holden himself had told Winifred his mother wasn't going to make it.

Even recently in Kingsbridge, she had heard Iris's mother boast about how Holden had mourned his mother for three years. She had genuinely believed he was a grieving son.

To see Madeleine sitting there, sipping wine, was a staggering blow.

"Dr. Shultz?" Madeleine's voice sliced through her thoughts. "What are you staring at?"