I Went to Jail to Save His First Love

Gilbert Bolton and I got married.

On our wedding day, his so-called first love—Irene Elliott—was involved in a car accident that claimed a life. Instead of offering support, he turned on me, accusing me of provoking her.

"Irene can't have a criminal record," he said coldly. "You take the fall for her."

When I refused, he threatened my father's safety, leaving me no choice but to agree. I bore the blame for Irene's crime and was thrown into prison. Tortured and broken, I endured a life worse than death, but it was there that I finally saw Gilbert—and my own heart—clearly.

Even if he knelt before me and begged for forgiveness one day, I vowed never to look back.

——

When I was released from prison, his driver was waiting at the gate. Without a word, I was driven to a club on Gilbert’s orders.

The moment I reached the private room door, I heard voices inside.

"Gilbert," Luke Hart, his close friend, said, "I heard Amelia Byrd was released from prison today. What about Irene?"

There was a pause, and then Gilbert’s calm and detached voice said, "Her return won’t affect anything between me and Irene."

"Exactly," Luke chimed in. "If she hadn’t forced you into marriage, none of this would’ve happened. This is all her fault."

I stood frozen outside the door, their words cutting through me like shards of glass. Gilbert had proposed to me, yet now, I am being painted as the villain who had ruined his life.

Perhaps this relationship was doomed from the start, a mistake that should have never begun.

I turned to leave, my heart heavy with their words, but fate had other plans. A waiter carrying a tray of wine appeared from the hallway, and I accidentally knocked it over. The bottles shattered, and the wine splashed all over me, drenching my clothes and drawing immediate attention.

The noise brought everyone in the private room to the door. Gilbert stepped out, his expression darkening the moment he saw me standing there.

"So you’re here," he sneered. "Why not come in? When did you pick up the habit of eavesdropping? A dog can’t stop eating shit, can it? Even years in prison couldn’t teach you any better."

His words hit me like a slap. The people gathered around stared at me, their judgmental eyes searing into my skin. Whispers rose among them, and the weight of their disdain was suffocating.

I was once the eldest daughter of the prestigious Byrd Group, but now, I was nothing more than a pariah—a "street rat," despised and mocked.

I wanted to defend myself, to explain. But prison had instilled in me a habit of silence, of swallowing words and suppressing every instinct to fight back. My lips moved, but no sound came out.

Covered in wine stains and utterly humiliated, I stood frozen as Irene stepped forward, pinching her nose theatrically. "It stinks," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Gilbert instinctively shielded her, as though I might taint her with my presence.

As he wrapped his arms protectively around her, a flash of light caught my eye. The ring on his finger—designed and polished by me. I had once imagined us exchanging those rings on our wedding day, a symbol of love and commitment. But that day never came.

Irene now wore the matching ring, the one that should have been mine. The sight of it pierced my chest like a knife.

"Go clean yourself up," Gilbert said, his voice laced with disdain. "Look at you—you’re a mess."

The crowd’s eyes followed me as I stumbled toward the restroom, their stares heavy with judgment. To them, I was nothing more than a criminal, my innocence irrelevant.

After tidying up as best I could, I stepped outside, only to see Gilbert and Irene walking arm-in-arm toward the exit.

"Take a taxi back on your own," he said dismissively. "Irene doesn’t like other people sitting in our car." His tone was final, leaving no room for protest.

I stood there, speechless. I had just been released from prison and had no money to my name.

Once, he had promised me that the passenger seat of his car would always belong to me. Now, I wasn’t even allowed near it.

The villa was miles away, and I had no choice but to start walking. The night grew colder with each step, and exhaustion weighed heavily on me. It wasn’t until much later that I came across a garbage truck.