He Chose Her, I Bled in Wedding Gown

Chapter 3

Foster brushed past Linh without acknowledgment, his footsteps never faltering as he ascended the stairs.

Linh nearly let out a hollow, mirthless laugh.

"I'm a trauma surgeon, not a tox specialist. Try the pharmacy, President Granger."

His polished shoes halted mid-step. He glanced back—not at her, but at the bodyguards retreating through the foyer.

"Lock her in."

The command fell like a guillotine blade. Cradling Sienna, he disappeared into their matrimonial chamber—its walls papered with crimson double happiness symbols, their wedding portrait beaming down like a cruel joke.

Linh stood paralyzed, a marble statue with hollowed-out eyes.

The villa's bridal decorations now reeked of bitter mockery. Then the sounds began—hushed, desperate, unending. She jammed her palms against her ears, but the noises clawed their way in, gouging trenches through her mind.

Then she heard it—Foster's husky, yearning murder.

"Ah—Sienna..."

Her breath seized.

Ah—Sienna.

Not Ah—Linh.

Three years of passion. Three years of whispered promises. And every sigh had been her name. No wonder he only ever used "Linh" outside their bed.

An unseen hand wrenched her heart, throttling it until her ribs ached. She'd believed herself hardened to reality, but this agony ripped her apart.

The wedding portrait taunted her—that blissful girl nestled against him, oblivious to the knife twisting in her future self's gut.

Vision blurred with unshed tears, she marched to the kitchen. The scissors gleamed in her grip as she hacked herself out of every frame, leaving only jagged shreds.

The study yielded more lies—albums gaping wide with Norwegian fjords, Paris' iron spire, Santorini's dying light. Every snapshot a betrayal.

Crrrick. Crrrick.

She tossed the remnants of herself into the hearth, watching orange teeth gnaw at the scraps until nothing remained but gray whispers.

The night stretched into an eternity, the sounds downstairs refusing to relent. Huddled in the study's gloom, she waited until dawn's pale fingers crept in, smothering the house into silence at last.

The door creaked open. Foster stood there—damp from the shower, a towel hanging precariously from his hips.

His eyes landed on Linh, huddled in the corner with bloodshot eyes and ghostly pale skin. For just a heartbeat, something like pity flickered in his gaze before vanishing.

"What are you doing here?" His voice came out low, almost rough.

Linh's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Marveling at your conquest, Granger. After all... it took you the whole damn night."

Foster's face darkened instantly. "When did you become so vicious?"

"Let's see..." Her voice was feather-light but razor-sharp. "Right about when my husband carried another woman into our wedding suite and f****d her brains out all night." A hollow laugh escaped her. "Oh wait—I'm just the replacement. None of this was ever really mine."

Foster stood frozen before her, his expression unreadable. Then suddenly, his entire demeanor shifted. In one violent motion, he hauled her up and slammed her onto the polished mahogany desk, the impact jarring her bones.

Before she could react, he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while the other tore at her clothes with brutal efficiency.

"Foster, have you lost your f*****g mind?" She thrashed against him, but his grip was iron.

His answer came in the form of a kiss that tasted like punishment, his mouth claiming hers with ruthless possession.

Just then, Sienna appeared in the doorway, her knuckles white where they gripped the frame. "Who... who was it last night?"

The realization hit Linh like a physical blow—this was all just a twisted game to provoke Sienna.

Before she could react, Foster abruptly stilled. In one fluid motion, he yanked her against his chest, his arm locking around her waist like a steel band while his other hand crushed her face against him.

No escape. No air. Just him.

Then came his laugh—cold enough to freeze blood.

"Don't tell me you thought it was me?" His voice was a blade dipped in frost. "Sienna, you overestimate your appeal."

A beat. Then, dripping with disgust.

"You turn my stomach."

He tapped a finger against his lips, mock-pensive. "But for old times' sake, I arranged some men to service you. Run now, and you might catch them."

Sienna trembled violently, her fingers digging into the doorframe until her knuckles bleached white. "Foster... you're a monster!"

"Blame your own stupidity." His words were laced with venom. "If you're so easy to drug, maybe you shouldn't pretend you can handle your liquor."

When Sienna didn't move, his fingers dug into Linh's flesh like steel bands.

"Like watching me get cozy with my wife?"

"Then get a good look."

Linh, lightheaded from lack of air against Foster's chest, was certain she'd black out when the hand gripping her head suddenly released. She gulped in huge, ragged breaths, but before she could steady herself, his lips slammed against hers once more.

Humiliation like she'd never known surged through her. Summoning every last shred of strength, she bit down hard.

The metallic tang of blood flooded their mouths instantly.

Foster grunted in pain, his brow furrowing in irritation, but kissed her even more fiercely, with savage intensity.

Just then, from the corner of her eye, Linh saw Sienna staggering toward the window.

Foster noticed too—flinging Linh away, he launched himself across the room without a second thought.

As Sienna threw herself over the windowsill, he leaped after her. Midair, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, twisting to take the brunt of the impact as they went tumbling down together with a sickening thud.