The Game of Marriage, The Entanglement of Love

A crack appeared in my expression, my face twisted with hatred.

All I felt now was bitterness and mockery.

I thought of that cheap wedding and let out a cold, bitter laugh.

No wonder everything was so rushed.

From the very beginning, Tere never intended for them to attend the ceremony.

Everything that happened today had been part of her plan all along.

Seeing my silence, Clifford assumed I was feeling regret.

His voice dripped with contempt: "Tere even went out of her way to contact a wedding company to help you redo it and pulled strings with hospital experts to get your dad an appointment. But looking at you now, I don’t think it’s even necessary anymore!"

"Now, apologize to Tere immediately and then take your sister and get out of my house!"

I grabbed his arm, my voice icy as I spoke:

"Redo it? Do you even hear yourself? You could redo it a thousand times and she'd destroy it a thousand and one! Spare yourself the trouble—just go ahead and plan the next one for the three of you! My sister and I want no part of it."

"Apologize? Only when she kneels before my father and admits her guilt!"

Fury ignited in his eyes as he spat each word through clenched teeth:

"Wanda, do you really think I'm being kind to you? Are you too dense to understand plain words?"

"This sham of a wedding? You begged for it—two days and two nights on your knees! What, now you're backing out? Or are you scared people will figure out your dad’s illness was just a lie?"

"Three years ago, you said he was on his deathbed to push for marriage. Now, three years later, he's dying again and you use it to justify a wedding. Looks like your dad's got a pretty strong will to live..."

I was stunned, unable to fathom that he’d twist my father’s illness into a weapon, accusing me of manipulating him for marriage.

In that moment, my blood froze and I clenched my fists with all my strength, my knuckles trembling.

"Shut up! You’re not worthy of mentioning my dad! You’re not worthy!"

"Clifford, divorce me! Right now! I never want to see you again! You three can rot together in hell!"

Hearing me mention divorce again, he lunged forward, both hands gripping my throat.

His hold tightened and my face turned a deep shade of purple from the pressure.

Tere had just finished cleaning the leaves from her hair and seeing what was happening, she rushed over to pull Clifford's hands away.

Not wanting to defy her, Clifford finally let go just before I lost consciousness.

Tere approached me, tears brimming in her eyes, looking pitiful as ever. She bent down, reaching out to help me up, but my sister, who had just regained consciousness, shoved her aside.

The force was so strong that Tere's hand slammed against the corner of a cabinet and she let out a muffled groan of pain.

Adrian immediately pulled her into his arms, tenderly inspecting her injured hand, then turned and shouted at my sister:

"You just don't learn, do you? Looks like I've been too lenient! And now you're even threatening divorce to get your way? Fine, divorce it is! Your dad’s been putting on this sick act for three years—I'm done with it! Divorce him, let him die angry, it’s no concern of mine!"

Clifford’s face had darkened completely.

I pulled my sister to her feet, limping as we prepared to leave, when I heard him snarl through gritted teeth:

"Didn’t you hear me? Both of you, apologize to Tere!"

Everything that had just happened crushed the last shred of hope I had left.

Hearing his voice now, I could only laugh coldly. "We’re done. Who do you think you are to demand an apology? The one who should be apologizing is that wretched woman who won't even let my father rest in peace!"

"No, actually, the three of you are all disgusting. A perfect match made in hell!"

Just as I stepped toward the door, Clifford grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me back violently.

My sister tried to reach for me, panic written all over her face, but it was too late.

Clifford shoved me to my knees in front of Tere, his leather shoe digging painfully into my calf, holding me down like I was nothing.

As he pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant, he sneered, “Apologize now, or I’ll make sure your father’s funeral happens while he’s still breathing.”

The line connected and the threat in his eyes darkened.

I clenched my jaw and spit at him.

Unfazed, he snapped, “Cancel the wedding. Turn it into Wanda Lloyd’s father’s funeral. This charade has dragged on long enough—time to make it official. And cancel that hospital appointment Tere set up for him.”

The voice on the other end quickly replied, “Mr. Cain, Miss Lloyd’s father passed away this morning… during the wedding.”