Kelsey's POV
Unexpectedly, Francis raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.
“You’ve gone too far, Kelsey! Since you clearly don’t know how to repent, stay in this room for the next few days and reflect on your behavior. No food allowed!”
He then dragged his mother and Belinda out of the room and locked the door from the outside.
I tried to stop him, but he shoved me back in so hard I hit the floor.
Indeed, there was no food or water, and my wounds were left untreated.
I sat there all night, staring out the window in silence, my body slowly sinking into despair.
By morning, I was running a low fever, so I messaged Francis, asking him to bring me some medicine.
I waited the entire morning, but no one came.
Luckily, he’d forgotten that during the renovation, I’d had a secret compartment built into the walk-in closet that opened into the backyard.
Still dizzy, I crawled out through it, one inch at a time.
Just as I was about to head to another room for medicine, I heard voices from the living room.
Turned out, he hadn’t gone to work.
He was there, lounging on the carpet with Belinda, the two of them wrapped around each other, feeding grapes from one mouth to the other.
Then she leaned in and kissed him playfully.
“Kelsey’s got a fever. Aren’t you going to give her medicine? You’re seriously planning to starve her?”
Francis chuckled, biting into a grape, and leaned close to her ear. “It’d be better if she died. Then no one could say I cheated or betrayed her. I’d be the perfect, grieving fiancé. Then we'll hold a nice funeral and I'll marry you without any baggage.”
Belinda giggled, voice syrupy sweet. “You’re so bad. But if she starves to death or the fever gets worse, it’s even better. That way she won’t find out that we’re the ones who hired that creep.”
The moment I heard that, my whole world stopped. A ringing filled my ears, and my brain just shut down.
Tears then blurred my vision as I curled up on the floor, covering my mouth so they wouldn’t hear me sobbing.
Turned out, they wanted me dead.
All those years, all the tenderness I thought we shared had all been a lie.
I crawled back to the bedroom, fighting the pain in my body, and started packing.
That was when my father called.
“The wedding venue is ready. Don’t forget to show up the day after tomorrow at Coastal Luxe.”
Nodding, I replied, “Okay.”
Once I finished packing, I tore every photo of us in wedding clothes into shreds and tossed them into the closet.
Then I took photos of the gifts Francis had given me and listed them online to sell at a low price.
Brushing my fingers over the wedding gown I had guarded like a treasure, my tears started to spill.
When he proposed to me, he gave it to me, saying he had designed it himself and even hand-stitched my name into it.
He also said it was one-of-a-kind because I was.
Now it felt like a cruel joke.
I cut my name out of the gown and tucked the torn piece into my suitcase.
Then I sent him a message.
[Belinda distributing my private photos is a crime. If you don’t want me reporting her to the police, unlock the bedroom door.]
Less than a minute later, I heard the lock click.
He opened the door and tossed a fever pill on the bed.
“The wedding’s still on. If you like the flower hairpin so much, wear it at the ceremony. You’re only good enough for the damaged one. I’ll just give Belinda a brand-new one.”
Saying nothing, I picked up the medicine and swallowed it dry.
At this point, my heart had been shattered too many times to feel anything.
In two days, at Ross Pascall’s wedding ceremony, everything would be over and I’d be free, never looking back.
Seeing I wasn’t reacting, Francis grew irritated, slammed the door, and left.
For the next two days, I didn’t see him again aside from his assistant, who dropped off the wedding dress I was supposed to wear.
Well, that suited me fine. Out of sight, out of mind.
On the wedding day, I put on the gown sent by Ross’s family, picked up my suitcase, and walked out of the villa for good.
Before I left, I gave Francis three parting gifts.
First, a wedding-day video that would play at the venue, filled with secret photos and clips of him and Belinda together.
Second, the custom wedding gown he’d once made for me, neatly packed and would be delivered right to the venue.
Third, a photo of my official marriage certificate with Ross, which I would send directly to his phone.
And with that, I got into the car and headed to the wedding that was truly mine.
