A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 8

Because Winifred refused to cooperate, Holden was about to be forced to break his promise to his father.

He ground his teeth. "I will handle it."

"But what about Winifred?" Arthur pressed gently. "What should we do regarding her food and basic necessities, sir?"

"I said leave her!"

"But... it's been three days. If we let her body fail, if she freezes or gets seriously hurt in there..."

"She won't die!"

Arthur remained bowed, only daring to lift his head once Holden's broad back had disappeared down the garden path.

When the heavy wooden doors to the cell finally creaked open again, Winifred was met with completely unexpected news.

She was being moved so she could "pray for Madeleine's recovery to atone for her sins."

The message was delivered by a rough-looking, unfamiliar servant. But to Winifred, the idea of praying meant engaging in an act of grace and charity. It was a good thing.

"Who gave this order?" she asked the man.

"Mr. Lockwood."

"Holden ordered this?"

"Yes." The servant gestured for her to step out. "Let's go. We're moving you."

A rush of overwhelming relief flooded Winifred's heart. She knew it. Holden loved her too much to ever actually divorce her.

She was escorted out, accompanied by the same six imposing bodyguards. She fully expected to be taken to a serene, sacred space far away from the damp and the centipedes. She imagined taking a warm bath, changing into clean clothes, eating a hot meal during the day, and wrapping herself in a thick blanket at night while she respectfully prayed for her mother-in-law.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

They led her directly into the Ancestral Wing.

She was violently shoved into a tiny, claustrophobic, windowless room that had been hastily partitioned off from the main hall. In the dead center of the room hung a massive row of ancestral memorial tablets. Beneath them sat an altar overflowing with chaotic offerings, radiating the nauseating, heavy stench of cheap incense and funeral supplies.

The solid wooden door was slammed shut and deadbolted from the outside.

Her world was instantly plunged into pitch-black darkness.

She held up her hand but couldn't even see her own fingers. Panicking, she slammed her palms against the walls, the hollow thud of cheap wood echoing back at her.

Gus's face flushed bright red as he gasped for air, screaming up at her.

"Madeleine is barely clinging to life!"

"Iris Morgan's concussion triggered violent seizures!"

"Roland Lockwood and Lyndon Morgan were literally about to call the police to drag you to prison! Mr. Lockwood fought them off to buy you a chance to live!"

"Didn't you say you were willing to wait until Madeleine recovered?!"

"Didn't you swear you would accept any punishment without causing a scene?!"

"Mr. Lockwood gave you exactly what you asked for! He arranged this to keep you out of a jail cell, and you instantly start destroying the place! Are you actively trying to ruin him?!"

Winifred froze.

Slowly, the foot pressing into Gus's chest retracted.

In absolute silence, she turned around and walked back into the suffocating gloom beside the altar.

The bodyguards scrambled up, hastily reattaching the broken wooden panel and sealing her back into the abyss.