He Chose Her, I Bled in Wedding Gown

Chapter 2

Foster's brows knitted together so faintly it was almost missed.

Though today was their wedding day, they'd already signed the marriage papers two weeks ago.

"Divorce? Not a chance."

"I'll ship Sienna back overseas ASAP. In a month, I'll throw you a wedding ten times grander than this."

His voice left no room for protest. "As for that forgiveness letter, Linh—I'd rather not strong-arm you into signing."

Linh shut her eyes, the freshly stitched gash over her heart pulsing as if splitting anew.

No coercion? Then what the hell was this?

But she knew better—when Foster made a threat, he followed through.

Like it or not, he'd get her signature on that damned document.

After an eternity, she opened her eyes, her voice scraped raw. "I'll sign."

Her frigid fingers closed around the pen, scrawling her name at the bottom like a death warrant.

Foster pocketed the letter, then flicked a black card from his bloodstained suit onto the nightstand.

"A hundred million dollars. Call it blood money for what Sienna stole from you."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and vanished.

The door snicked shut. Gritting her teeth, Linh twisted sideways and snatched the card.

Suddenly, she barked a laugh.

Tears shattered free, scalding trails down her face.

So this was the cost—three years of love, ground to dust along with every last shred of her pride.

*****

Hours bled away before—creak—the door swung open again.

Sienna glided in.

Linh's face iced over at the sight of her near-mirror image—the woman who'd almost ended her life. "Get. Out."

Unfazed, Sienna perched on the bedside chair, eyes locked on the bandages. "I lost control that day. Never meant to put you in the hospital."

"Whatever game got you to sign that paper… I owe you one."

Her gaze darkened. "But cut Foster loose. We're like scorpions trapped in a jar—can't escape, just keep stinging each other. Next time I snap? You might not walk away."

Linh blinked. No barbs, no games—just brutal honesty.

Suddenly, it clicked—why Foster couldn't quit her.

With a humorless smile, Linh looked down, her lashes casting dagger-sharp shadows.

"Then tell Foster to sign the divorce papers—that'll settle the debt between us. After that, we go our separate ways."

This time, Sienna was the one caught off guard. She clearly hadn't expected Linh to be so ready to walk away from Foster.

Her eyes darkened as understanding struck—Foster didn't want the divorce, which was why Linh needed her help.

"Draw up the papers and send them my way." Sienna rose, jotted down a number, and turned to leave. But at the threshold, she froze.

"Everyone knows my drunken father caused the fire that killed his family." Her voice was a fragile whisper, yet her grip on the doorknob shook uncontrollably.

"But no one knows Foster's revenge didn't stop there—he took my mother, my grandparents... no one was spared. He shipped me overseas because he feared he'd lose control and hurt me next."

Her warning came sharp and urgent. "Keep him in the dark—until the divorce is done."

"Otherwise, you're trapped for good."

The door clicked shut, leaving Linh rooted in place, her fingers turning to ice.

*****

The days that followed blurred into a numb routine. Like clockwork, Foster appeared—bearing steaming congee from her favorite spot, carefully slicing fruit into bite-sized pieces, working through files while she pretended to sleep.

Linh observed it all with icy detachment, the hypocrisy leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

Without the wedding day's scars, she could've almost convinced herself their relationship was intact.

Then came the envelope from the nurse. Inside were the divorce papers—Foster's signature slashed across the final page.

He glanced up from his documents. "What's that?"

"Just my medical file." She waved the papers with feigned indifference. "Eager to inspect it, Mr. Granger?"

His frown deepened, but he merely returned to his work. "Not necessary."

Alone again, Linh studied the signature, a bitter laugh escaping her.

Three years together, and not once had he signed anything—even in their most intimate moments—without dissecting every clause. She'd mistaken it for thoroughness.

Now she understood—she was never important enough to make him bend his rules. No sooner had Foster left than Linh shot the agreement to her lawyer.

Her lawyer responded right away—everything checked out, but they needed her and Foster's marriage certificate.

After two more days recovering in the hospital, Linh went home to grab it.

The villa was still drowning in those obnoxious red "double happiness" decorations, the garish sight stabbing her eyes like needles.

She'd just dug out the marriage certificate and was turning to leave.

When the front door slammed open with a crash. Foster stormed in, Sienna limp in his arms.

"Everyone out!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Lock this place down—nobody moves without my say-so!"

The command sent servants and bodyguards scrambling.

Linh's eyes snapped to Sienna—unconscious, her face flushed an unnatural, feverish red.

As a doctor, she knew in an instant.

Drugged.

And what Foster planned to do next went without saying.

Maybe because traces of that damned love still clung to her bones, her heart twisted in a searing, relentless ache.

Clutching the marriage certificate, she spun toward the exit.

Then froze as his voice sliced through the air. "Linh."

She didn't need to turn to feel his glacial stare. "You stay."

His next words were clinical, final. "You're the doctor here. If she crashes, you fix her."