The bride he didn't choose

Chapter 12

Morning broke with a sharp brightness that felt almost too deliberate—like the world was trying too hard to appear normal.

Elora stepped out of her car, every inch of her carefully composed. A fitted red shirt tucked neatly into blue jeans, red stilettos clicking confidently against the pavement, a matching Louis Vuitton bag resting on her arm. Her long bone-straight hair framed her face, sleek and controlled—just like the image she needed to project.

Nothing about her appearance hinted at the pains of the previous night.

She paused briefly before entering her boutique, drawing in a slow breath.

Act normal.

The glass doors opened.

And instantly—

Something felt off.

Too many voices.

Too much movement.

The boutique was full.

Not just busy—but packed.

Customers crowded every section, murmuring, picking items, some even arguing over pieces like it was a clearance sale. Her workers moved frantically, trying to keep up.

Elora’s brows furrowed slightly.

This isn’t normal.

“Good morning, ma!” her staff chorused, though their voices carried a hint of stress.

“Good morning,” Elora replied, her smile smooth, controlled. She stepped forward, slipping into her role effortlessly. “Welcome, everyone. Thank you for coming. We truly appreciate your support.”

A few customers turned, smiling, praising her designs. Others barely noticed her presence, too focused on whatever frenzy had taken over the space.

Elora nodded politely, but her eyes scanned the room.

Searching.

Analyzing.

What triggered this?

No promotion had been announced.

No new collection launch today.

So why—

A crash.

Loud.

Sharp.

Glass shattering.

The entire boutique fell silent for half a second—

Then erupted into chaos.

Elora’s head snapped toward the sound.

“What was that?” she muttered, already moving.

She had barely stepped into her office when the noise intensified—raised voices, something being dragged, someone shouting.

Her pulse quickened.

She rushed out.

“What’s going on?!” she demanded.

One of the security guards hurried toward her, slightly out of breath.

“Boss…” he said urgently. “Your sister is causing trouble.”

Elora froze.

For just a second.

Then—

“Matilda,” she whispered, her voice dropping dangerously low.

Her heels clicked sharply as she moved through the crowd, pushing past startled customers until she reached the center of the chaos.

And there she was.

Matilda.

Standing like she owned the place.

Racks of clothes had been overturned.

Mannequins lay broken on the floor.

Fabrics—expensive, delicate fabrics—were scattered, trampled.

Elora’s jaw tightened.

“Matilda!” she snapped. “What are you doing?! Why are you disarranging my boutique?”

Matilda turned slowly.

And smiled.

Not warmly.

Not apologetically.

But with something darker.

“Shut up,” she said flatly.

A ripple of shock passed through the onlookers.

“You i***t,” Matilda continued, her voice rising. “This boutique is supposed to be mine.”

A tense silence followed.

Elora let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Wow,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You still haven’t given up?”

Matilda stepped closer, her eyes blazing.

“You think you’ve won?” she hissed. “You think dressing up, playing the perfect wife, running this place makes you untouchable?”

Elora’s expression didn’t change.

But inside—

Something shifted.

Because Matilda didn’t sound desperate.

She sounded… certain.

Elora reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.

Without breaking eye contact, she dialed.

“Windsor,” she said when he picked up, her tone calm but edged with steel. “You need to come to the boutique. Now. Come along with police officers “.

A pause.

Then—

“He’s already here.”

Elora’s heart skipped.

Already… here?

Before she could react—

The glass doors swung open.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

And Windsor walked in.

Flanked by police officers.

The room fell completely silent.

Customers instinctively stepped back, creating a clear path as Windsor approached.

His gaze locked onto Elora first.

Then shifted.

To Matilda.

Something dark flickered in his eyes.

“My husband,” Elora said softly, stepping toward him. She placed a quick kiss on his lips—brief, controlled, but deliberate.

A statement.

A claim.

Then she turned slightly, her voice rising just enough for everyone to hear.

“Windsor… she didn’t just disarrange my store.” She paused, letting the tension build. “She’s the one behind my kidnapping back in Switzerland.”

Gasps spread through the crowd.

Matilda’s smile didn’t fade.

If anything—

It deepened.

Windsor’s expression hardened instantly.

“Officers,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. “Take her into custody.”

One of the officers stepped forward, pulling out handcuffs.

“Ma’am, you are being charged for deliberate vandalism,” he said formally. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.”

Matilda didn’t resist.

She extended her hands willingly.

The metal cuffs clicked shut.

But her eyes—

Never left Elora.

Not even for a second.

As the officers began to lead her away, Matilda suddenly laughed.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

Unsettling.

Echoing through the boutique.

“You really think this ends here?” she said, her voice cutting through the silence.

Elora’s spine stiffened.

“Take her away,” Windsor snapped.

But Matilda kept talking.

“You’ve built quite the life, Elora,” she continued, her tone almost amused. “A husband who worships you. A business thriving. A name that isn’t even yours.”

Elora’s breath caught.

Windsor’s head turned slightly.

“What did she just say?” he asked quietly.

Elora forced a small laugh. “She’s just trying to—”

I think she still has feelings for you.

The officers tightened their grip, but she leaned forward slightly, her gaze locked onto Windsor now.

“Ask her,” Matilda said softly. “Ask your wife who the legitimate daughter of the Matthew family is”.

The boutique felt colder.

Smaller.

Like the walls were closing in.

“This isn’t over,” Matilda said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow echoed louder than everything else.

And then—

She was gone.

The doors closed behind her.

Silence.

Heavy.

Unforgiving.

Windsor turned slowly to all the customers.

I'm sorry for everything that happened,you can continue shopping, we'll clean up this mess very soon.