My Fiancé Delayed our Wedding Nine Times

7

Margery’s POV

When I opened my eyes again, I was already in a hospital.

Everything in front of me was blurred. My hands trembled as I reached for my belly.

After losing my mother, I had lost my child because of Gibson and Wanda. The realization hit like a physical blow; my eyes instantly went bloodshot

I needed to finish my plan.

I would turn every loss into arrows of revenge.

I swore I would drive those arrows into Gibson and Wanda’s hearts and make them feel the suffocating pain I felt!

Gibson did not come to see me until the sun climbed high. He looked anxious; his clothes were creased and stained with an unidentified liquid.

“Margery, I didn’t know you were pregnant. I never wanted this to happen,” he said, rushing closer.

As he approached, the scent of Wanda’s perfume on him invaded my nose like poison.

My voice was hoarse when I snarled, “Get away from me!”

He froze for a moment, then said, “About yesterday, you weren’t without fault either. If you hadn’t drugged Wanda, I wouldn’t have had to use myself to counter the drug. I wouldn’t have punished you, and our child might still be alive…”

He laid every accusation at my feet as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I scoffed. “Was there no hospital nearby? Couldn’t you have taken her there instead of using yourself as an antidote? I’ve told you, Gibson, I didn’t drug her! Won’t you investigate?”

Rage made my voice tremble.

Gibson reached out as if to soothe me, but I recoiled without mercy.

Pain flickered across his face. Before he could say more, Wanda’s voice came from the doorway.

“Gibson, let me explain to Margery. We were both forced yesterday. It’s understandable if she doesn’t want to see me. I’ll apologize properly.”

She stepped in with a pitiful look, and as soon as Gibson couldn’t see, a smug smile crept across her face. A red mark—Gibson’s handiwork from the day before—rimmed her neck.

I glared, disgusted, and moved to drive her out, but Wanda grabbed my hand and pinned it down.

Seeing Gibson watching with concern at the door, she whispered, “Have you ever fully satisfied him? The day your mother died, Gibson was already in my bed. I put the drugs in myself yesterday. I heard your baby was lost? What a delight. If you don’t leave us alone, let me give you more surprises, dear. Next time, we’ll plaster photos of you in bed all over Seattle. How about that?”

That was the last straw. I shoved her away hard.

“Get out! Get out of here, you bitch! I won’t let you go!” I cried, slapping her with everything I had—wanting to beat the life out of her right on the hospital floor.

As expected, she covered her face and played the injured, wronged innocent.

Gibson strode forward and pushed me down onto the bed, his face a storm.

“Margery! How long are you going to go after Wanda? She came to apologize and you attacked her! Your miscarriage is your own doing! Don’t blame her for it!”

He scooped Wanda into his arms, his eyes full of disappointment as he looked at me.

“If you insist on holding the wedding on schedule, then stay in the hospital until the wedding day! Don’t come out until then!”

He turned and left, carrying her. From behind him, Wanda’s face was full of malice.

With a click, the door was locked tight.

I lay back on the bed and laughed—wild, hysterical laughter that turned instantly to tears.

My face was soaked, tears soaking the pillow and leaving deep, wet grooves.

True to Gibson’s words, he didn’t release me until the wedding day. A guard gave me a contemptuous glance and handed me the wedding dress.

“Mr. Gibson ordered you to wear it and go straight to the venue.”

I took the dress with a calmness that puzzled them and walked toward the stairwell.

Perhaps, they didn’t expect me to leave Gibson on my wedding day, so no one followed me.

I shoved the lavish gown into a trash bin in the hospital stairwell and left.

Outside, the cab I’d booked was waiting.

Back at my apartment, I grabbed my luggage and documents and went to the airport.

Before boarding, I sent one last message.

[Execute the original plan. Display every piece of evidence I prepared, one by one, at the wedding. I want Gibson and Wanda to suffer unbearably!]

After that, I snapped my SIM card in two and tossed the halves into a trash can.

From that moment on, the sky was wide and I could fly; Gibson and I would never see each other again!