I Walked Away from My Death in a Wedding Dress

Amara's POV

I was kidnapped by Grayson Locke’s ex-wife, the woman he hated the most. Right in front of him, she beat me with a steel rod until the three-month-old baby in my womb was gone.

“Grayson, this is the price for loving her! If you want revenge, kill me in this bed!” she screamed.

Later, when I was rescued, he stabbed her womb, stripped her naked, and threw her into the slums.

After that day, everyone in Chicago knew that I was Grayson’s weakness.

But a week before our wedding, I walked into the bridal shop’s fitting room and froze. There he was, pinning her against the wall. His hands trembled as he kissed the scars on her bare back, tender and full of guilt.

Alyssa Hartwell bit down hard on his throat. “These scars are what you owe me, Grayson. How are you planning to repay them?”

He whispered hoarsely, “How do you want me to pay you back?”

Smirking, she answered, “I want Amara to suffer like I did. I want her to live through the same hellish slum I did.”

Grayson went quiet for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

——

But she saw him hesitate, so she sneered, refusing to let go. “What’s wrong? You pity her now? Wasn’t it you who said you wished you could die in my arms?”

Grayson scoffed. “She’s my wife. If I don’t care about her, should I care about you?”

He then pulled on his shirt and turned to leave.

Alyssa’s eyes darkened with resentment. She grabbed him by the neck and bit his lips so hard he flinched.

He leaned back, muttering coldly, “What are you, a mad dog?”

“For you, I'm willing to be one,” she whispered.

Grayson’s face hardened. “You’re pregnant and still this wild? I swear, I could kill you right now.”

Alyssa laughed, proud and unbothered. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Shut up!” he roared.

I couldn’t listen anymore.

Pregnant? So, Alyssa’s womb wasn’t ruined after all.

Grayson lied to me.

My hand went to my stomach. Three months ago, she beat my baby to death. I could still feel the warmth of that blood on my palms.

I could still remember the rage in Grayson’s eyes that day.

“You killed my son,” he said, voice trembling with fury. “You’ll never bear a child again.”

Then he stabbed her eight times. When she was barely breathing, he stripped her naked and dumped her in Chicago’s largest slum.

In the rearview mirror, I saw filthy hands drag her into a tattered hut.

Now I knew that the entire scene had been a show for me.

Wiping away tears that burned with hatred, I smiled bitterly.

He must’ve forgotten. I might’ve played the good girl for years, but I was raised to be ruthless and fearless.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, the clerk noticed my pale face. “Miss Wells, are you all right? Do you need any help?”

I looked up at the center of the hall, where my wedding dress hung, a one-of-a-kind piece Grayson had custom-made for me.

Just an hour ago, I’d imagined every bit of happiness our future could hold when I first saw it. Now, it looked like a blade, sharp, gleaming, and twisted right through my heart.

Pain spread through me like wildfire. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

“Burn it,” I said quietly, pointing at the dress.

Without waiting for her response, I walked out.

By the time Grayson came home, it was past midnight. He hugged me from behind just as I turned off my phone, the same phone that had just received five gigabytes of videos and photos.

“You didn’t like the wedding dress?” he asked softly. “Why’d you have them burn it?”

“It was dirty,” I replied flatly.

He froze, tightening his arms around me as if sensing something off.

“Alright,” he murmured. “If you don’t like it, we’ll get a new one. I’ll order something better for you.”

He then leaned down, about to kiss me.

But the moment his lips neared mine, all I could see were the images from the video, their bodies entangled, lost in each other.

My gaze then fell on the fresh hickey at his throat and got a sniff of the faint scent of lily lingering on his skin, which wasn’t mine.