I Traded My Body for His Remedy

Out of nowhere, something slammed into the back of my head. A sharp, dull pain spread before I even had time to react, and then fists—relentless, pounding fists—started raining down on me.

“You filthy little tramp! How dare you ruin my son’s wedding! Get lost! Get lost right now!”

That voice. I knew it. Gemima, Clay’s mom.

She’d hated me from day one when I showed up in her son’s life. Always looking for reasons to pick on me. Now, she’d finally found the perfect excuse to lash out, showing no mercy.

Jewell tried to shield me, taking a punch square to the face. A nail caught her cheek, leaving a deep, bloody scratch.

“You whore!” Gu’s mom shrieked, her voice shrill. “Don’t act like you’re some saint, crawling into that old man’s bed and pretending it was for my son’s cure! What do you think we are? Stupid? You think we’ll believe whatever trash comes out of your mouth?”

“Now the whole internet knows what kind of disgusting little tramp you are. And you still had the guts to show up here and ruin my son’s wedding?! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

And then there he was, Clay, standing with that cold, detached stare as his mother laid into me. He was just watching, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

God, it stung.

How could someone have two completely different faces?

Or maybe, all these years, he’d been acting so convincingly that I actually believed he was a man of deep love and loyalty.

The sweet love I thought I had was nothing more than a cruel illusion.

More people started to join in, pushing and shoving. Jewell and I were outnumbered with no way to fight back.

After agreeing to the arranged marriage my parents set up, I thought I did the right thing—I’d taken time to call my fiancé and come clean about my past.

Marriage is sacred, a mutual choice.

If he had a problem with my past, I told him, we’d call the wedding off.

But he’d told me he wanted to marry me, that he accepted everything about me and my past.

And for a minute, I thought I was lucky to marry someone so understanding.

Never in my worst nightmares did I think I’d be humiliated like this on my very wedding day.

Despair crept into my mind as I honestly thought they might beat me to death before I even got the chance to see the groom.

When I saw Jewell’s face, covered in blood and hit badly, guilt and shame consumed me.

“Gem, this isn’t your fight,” I told her, shoving at her. “Don’t worry about me! Just get out of here!”

But no matter how hard I pushed her, she wouldn’t move.

“They’re breaking the law by hitting you, and I’m calling the cops!” she yelled.

She barely managed to pull out her phone before someone grabbed it right out of her hand.

And just like that, any hope I had fizzled out.

Then, Melissa’s voice rang out. “Alright, that’s enough! It’s bad to have blood on a happy day like this. Let it go—let’s just spare this bitch this time.”

She wasn’t being kind. She’d noticed a few guests in the crowd sneaking out their phones. Probably planning to call the cops.

If that happened, her wedding would be ruined for real.

Of course, saying it like that made her look like some saint in front of the crowd. The guests were practically falling over themselves to praise her for being so beautiful and gracious, and oh how she took pride in it!

I tried to push Jewell out of the mob, but Gemima grabbed her by the hair to threaten me.

“Kneel,” she demanded, “and apologize!”

I stared up at her, my voice hoarse from utter humiliation. “If I do, will you let us go?”

She looked down at me, saying, “Promise me you’ll stay away from my son and his wife for good, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Before I could say a word, Clay stepped forward and kicked me hard on the shoulder.

“Don’t just sit there, you slut! Apologize!”

The pain was instant and sharp like my shoulder had been crushed. I felt cold sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling into my eyes and stinging my bruised face.

Jewell grabbed my hand, her bloody fingers digging into my wrist. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

Right. I was the victim here. Why the hell should I have to kneel and apologize?

I was covered in blood, my gown torn to shreds. And this? This was the lowest, most humiliating moment of my life!

Gemima cursed under her breath, storming toward me like a bull ready to shove me to my knees.

Melissa smirked like she’d already won, her satisfaction barely concealed.

I held my head high, gritting my teeth as I glared at the two of them.

Just then, the elevator chimed, and a deep, magnetic voice followed—calm yet commanding enough to freeze the room.

“Stop it!”