On Our Wedding, He Sent Me to Prison to Save His Mistress

The next day.

Helena was awakened by the sound of flirtatious laughter drifting up from downstairs.

Before she could sit up, the door swung open. Jackson stood in the doorway, tall and cold-eyed, his expression carved from ice.

Laica followed behind him, affectionately holding his arm and looking at Helena with a proud attitude.

"Helena," Laica cooed, "we heard you got out. I even threw you a little welcome at the bar—everyone in our circle will be there. It's a perfect chance for you to get back into society."

Helena's lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile.

A welcome party?

Or an opportunity for the entire Boston to see how the once-promising prodigy had returned—crippled, disgraced, a convicted felon?

Her voice was dry but steady. "I'm not going."

Her refusal instantly made Laica's eyes glisten with feigned sorrow.

"Jackson, is she still blaming me for her imprisonment?" She pouted.

Jackson's face darkened, the air turning sharp with tension. "Helena, you don't have the right to refuse."

He stepped forward, towering over her. "If you don't want Jennelyn to be comfortable inside the prison, then you can stay here and lie down."

"Jennelyn?!" Hearing that name made Helena's heart race. She looked at him in shock and asked anxiously, "What did you do to her?"

Jennelyn had been the only light in that darkness. When fever racked Helena and the cell felt like an oven, it was Jennelyn who had slammed her palms bloody against the iron door until a guard came.

Jackson's gaze lingered on her terrified expression, and the corners of his lips curled in satisfaction.

"I didn't do anything to her," he said smoothly. "But as long as you behave, she'll keep living well in there."

The thinly veiled threat wrapped around Helena's throat like a steel wire. Her blood ran cold, freezing her from the inside out.

It took her a long moment before she forced out a single word bitterly. "...Fine."

Jackson turned and walked away without looking back, his tall figure disappearing beyond the door—leaving nothing but suffocating emptiness behind.

Helena changed into the clothes his people had brought—a delicate white dress that sat against her scarred body like an insult. The contrast between the fabric's elegance and the bruises beneath it made her feel absurd and hollow.

The bar was loud with music and chatter. The moment she entered, every head turned. Once, these were people who had fawned over her brilliance. Now, their eyes gleamed with ridicule and satisfaction—every smile sharpened with malice.

Laica sauntered over, her red slip dress hugging every curve, a wine glass in hand. "Helena, welcome back. Let me toast to you."

Helena stared at the crimson liquid and shook her head weakly. "I can't drink."

Her stomach had been ruined by years of spoiled food and filthy water. Now, even a drop of wine would burn like molten metal down her throat.

Laica's smile sharpened. She stepped closer, her voice soft but edged with poison. "I know you can't drink. But so what? Do you think you can refuse me today?"

Then, as if on cue, she turned teary-eyed toward Jackson.

"Helena... do you think I'm dirty? Is that why you won't drink the wine I offered you?"

In an instant, every pair of eyes turned to Helena—accusing, judging, sneering.

Jackson's expression darkened. He stepped forward, shielding Laica behind him like a precious gem, his voice cutting like ice. "Apologize."

He pointed to the table. "Drink every glass of wine and apologize to Laica."

Helena stared at him in disbelief, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

When she didn't move, Jackson sneered and pulled out his phone.

He dialed a number.

A monotonous female voice came through the receiver. "Hello, San Francisco Prison."

Jackson's voice was low, deliberate. "Find me a prisoner named Jennelyn."

"No!" Helena's pupils shrank. Panic surged through her as she lunged toward him, trying to snatch the phone away.

But he caught her easily—his grip iron-strong as he flung her hand aside.

"I'll drink!" Helena's voice cracked as she screamed the words, desperation spilling out of her like shattered glass.