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

When they returned to the villa, Jackson carried Helena into the guest room and gently set her down on the bed.

But that gentleness cut deeper than a knife.

Helena lay there motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling—like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

Jackson didn't leave. He stood by the window, his tall figure bathed in silver moonlight, the shadow he cast stretching across the room until it swallowed her whole.

"Helena," he finally said, his tone calm but distant. "What happened back then was your fault. You should take care of yourself now and stop causing trouble."

Her lashes fluttered, but she said nothing.

How ironic. After lying for so long, had Jackson started believing his own lies?

Her only mistake—her greatest mistake—was falling in love with him.

When she didn't answer, Jackson's voice softened.

"If you still want a child... I'll give you one in the future."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "And about your research—I'll have a lab built at home so you can continue your work in peace."

Helena slowly closed her eyes, hiding every trace of emotion beneath her lashes.

A private lab at home—how convenient. He wanted her to keep working... for Laica.

Seeing that she seemed to be asleep, Jackson stood there for a long while before quietly closing the door behind him.

...

Sometime past midnight, thirst pulled Helena out of her restless sleep.

She slipped out of bed, bare feet brushing against the cold floor, and tiptoed toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

As she passed the study, a faint light leaked through the gap in the door—and voices drifted out.

Shawn's voice was low and tense.

"Jackson, you went too far today. Sending people to kidnap her, taking those kinds of photos—aren't you afraid Helena will hate you for life if she ever finds out?"

Helena froze. The cup in her hand nearly slipped.

Inside, silence lingered for a few seconds before Jackson's voice broke through—quiet, controlled, and utterly cold.

"She won't know."

His tone carried the faintest hint of a smirk. "Never."

"Still," Shawn said, "Laica told me Helena's been digging into what happened three years ago. You're only making things worse—"

"She's safe now," Jackson cut him off, his voice turning even colder. "After what happened tonight, she'll rely on me again. She won't dare go anywhere. She'll stay home, focus on her research, and help pave the way for Laica's success."

Outside the study, Helena's body trembled so hard she could barely stand.

She pressed both hands over her mouth, stifling the scream that clawed up her throat.

It turned out... everything that happened tonight—the kidnapping, the fear, the near violation—was all his plan.

Every second of terror she felt had been part of his carefully staged performances.

She stumbled back to her room in a daze, her mind spinning with Shawn's words.

Those kinds of photos...

For Laica—to protect Laica's image, her future—Jackson had gone this far.

Her vision blurred with tears, but her heart felt frozen solid.

"Jackson..." she whispered hoarsely, gripping the edge of the bed until her knuckles turned white.

"You really do have a cruel heart."