A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 6

The next time the carved mahogany doors swung open, Holden stood on the threshold.

He was silhouetted against the blinding daylight, his sharp, flawlessly styled hair catching the sun. His deep-set eyes, straight nose, and chiseled jawline looked as though they had been meticulously carved from cold, unyielding jade. He radiated absolute wealth, power, and untouchable grace.

"Are the divorce papers signed?"

Winifred shook her head softly.

"You are unbelievably—"

"I don't want to lose you."

A suffocating silence stretched between them.

Winifred rolled up the frayed, dirt-stained sleeve of her dress, using a relatively clean patch of fabric on her arm to wipe her raw, stinging eyes. She desperately wanted to get a clear look at his face.

She thought he must be hurting too. Because of the catastrophe she had supposedly caused, he was trapped between the woman he loved and the family demanding her head.

But when she lowered her arm and focused her eyes, the doorway was empty. He was already gone.

Holden stalked through the gardens, his furious, rapid strides whipping up the air around him. Delicate little orchids that had just begun to bloom were trampled mercilessly beneath his polished leather shoes.

Arthur happened to be passing by, leading a maintenance technician who managed the estate's security systems.

A heavy rainstorm a few days prior had knocked out the wiring for the garden's security cameras. The technician had reported that the underground cables were severely corroded and required a complete system overhaul. Because the mansion spanned over fifty thousand square feet, it was a massive undertaking. The crew had been working for three straight days, and the job still wasn't finished.

This meant the Lockwood estate had been completely devoid of surveillance footage for four consecutive days.

"Mr. Lockwood!" Arthur bowed respectfully as Holden approached. "Winifred has been locked up for a day and a night now. If we don't give her something to eat, her body will give out."

Holden didn't even break his stride. He threw a cold reply over his shoulder. "She won't die."

"But what if... what if she starves or falls severely ill?"

*"Don't cry, Winifred. Do you want me to tell you a story?"*

She had nodded through her tears, pressing her wet, flushed cheek against his ear.

Even after the story, she had still missed Grandpa Chester fiercely. She had spent the first six years of her life with him and had never been away from his side. Roland Lockwood had paid a small fortune to construct a private sanctuary in the mountains for the old man to live out his days.

Winifred had been consumed with worry and longing for him.

Seeing her distress, the ten-year-old Holden had given up his luxurious bed for her, making a makeshift pallet on the floor so he could sleep right at the foot of her bed to protect her.

She had grown up entirely enveloped in his fierce, uncompromising devotion.

He had spoiled her. Treasured her.

Until eventually, she became a woman who saw nothing but Holden, whose heart beat only for Holden, and who swore to the heavens she would never, ever leave him.