I Was the Foolish Heiress. Now I’m the Executioner

On the day of my wedding, my fiancé, Victor Blackwood, invited eight of his ex-girlfriends to block the door and told me I had to kneel before them.

"We had him before you, Selena!" one of them sneered, all smug and catty. "So show some respect and get on your knees. Otherwise? Don't even dream of walking through that door."

Without a second thought, I smacked each of them and threw them out of the bridal suite like they were nothing.

Yet, when my stepsister, Nadine Stone, was concerned, Victor stepped in, defending her with a courtesy he never offered me.

"The others can leave," he said coolly, calm like he thought this made him reasonable. "But I promised Nadine she'd be at my wedding. I won't go back on that."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" I said, my voice smooth. "Then why don't you walk out with her?"

Before either of them could say a word, I picked up a wine bottle and smashed it right over their heads.

They both ended up needing twenty-five stitches each.

Later that same day, Victor and my father teamed up to ship me overseas. The excuse? I needed an attitude adjustment.' And just like that, I was gone for three whole years.

When I finally returned, Victor was at the airport to meet me, as if nothing had occurred and as if the three years he had ignored me were irrelevant.

"Now that you've had time to reflect," he said with this smug confidence, "we can resume our engagement."

Curled up in his arms like a delicate little dove, Nadine's eyes shimmered with tears.

"Back then, I was beaten blind by Selena," she whispered, all soft and pitiful. "Victor couldn't bear to leave me like that. He's been my eyes these past three years. But don't worry, I've already accepted someone else's proposal. We're getting our marriage certificate soon."

I glanced down at their tightly clasped hands, watched the whole performance from the front row, and gave a quiet, cold laugh.

"No problem," I said lightly.

Because this time, I'm not here for closure.

I'm here for blood.

——

Nadine reached up and brushed her fingers along Victor's cheek, her tears slipping down like rain.

"Victor, thank you for taking care of me these past three years," she murmured. "Even though the man I'm marrying is abusive and controlling… I guess that's what I deserve. I made mistakes in the past. This is just my punishment."

Her voice trembled like a violin string about to snap. "I probably won't get to see you again… Let me memorize your face one last time."

As she spoke, her sleeve just so happened to slip back, revealing faint bruises scattered across her forearm—soft purples that caught the light with a pearlescent shimmer.

It only took one glance.

I could tell immediately it was makeup. Special effects. The kind of trickery you pull off with a bit of eyeshadow and some shimmer powder.

But Victor? He panicked.

He grabbed her hand, voice shooting up, pissed and panicked. "What? That asshole hit you? Nadine, tell me who it was! I swear to God, I'll break every bone in his body!"

"Don't ask," she choked out between sobs, twisting like she couldn't even handle the pain. "I won't say… I just want to make things right. For all those years I kept you and Selena apart…"

Victor's jaw clenched, all fired up like some self-righteous savior. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you marry some scumbag like that."

Then he turned to me, eyes cold. "Selena, she's already suffered enough. You blinded her. If she ends up with a guy like that, she's dead in a year. I'll still marry you, but I'm taking care of her. For the rest of my life."

He pulled Nadine in, holding her like she might shatter. His voice was calm, serious, soaked in that self-righteous charm he mistook for nobility. Same as always.

The same look he gave me when he said, dead serious, that every major moment in his life had to include her.

"Well, she's your little sister," I replied calmly. "It's your duty to take care of her. As long as you're happy."

Victor smiled with visible relief, like I'd finally said the magic words.

"Selena," he said warmly, "I knew it. You've finally become obedient and understanding."

I watched that fake, satisfied smile stretch across his face as he carried Nadine into the car like they were starring in a tragic love story.

To anyone else, it looked like a touching moment.

But to me?

It was a joke—a cheap play written by amateurs.

One fake bruise, and he lost his damn mind.

But what of the true scars? The ones that resembled burned vines on my arms, the cigarette burns still sensitive under my sleeves?

He never even looked at them.

Not that it mattered anymore.

I stopped needing a man's pity a long time ago.

It's cheap. Disposable. Just like them.

. . .

When I returned to the villa, I found that my mother had left me a wedding gift. I sensed it the moment I stepped inside. Something was wrong.

Everything had changed.

The garden where my mother and I once planted rows of baby's breath was gone. In its place stood lavender. Neatly trimmed. Carefully arranged. The one thing I'm severely allergic to.

Even the housekeeper and staff were different. Not a single familiar face remained. And the way they acted, it was as if I didn't exist. They turned their backs when I entered a room, only to face Nadine moments later with warm smiles and respectful nods.

"Welcome home, Miss Nadine."

The title came easily to them, smooth as silk, cultivated over a long time.

So Victor had already moved her in.

The realization landed hard, absurd, and surreal, and before I could stop myself, I laughed sharply.

Nadine went pale. She stepped back, her voice unsteady, trembling with something between fear and guilt.

"Selena… I didn't mean to live in your wedding house," she said in that classic, fragile tone, like she was so overcome by guilt. "Victor said it was just easier for him to take care of me here. I forgot you were allergic to lavender. I'm really sorry. I'll have it pulled out right away, and I'll move back to my parents' place."