Chapter 2: The Wedding Night from Hell
1820 Words
Natalia’s POV
No!!”
I gasped, my eyes popping open as I jolted on the bed. My whole body trembled, a single tear trailing down my cheek and stopping at my collarbone.
My hand flew down, probing my stomach. There was no blood, and my stomach was completely flat.
I sat up, my heartbeat pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. It was then that I realized I was lying on a king-size bed, dressed in white silk.
Right at the foot of the bed, red-petaled roses were arranged to spell out the words: Two hearts, one promise, together forever.
I inhaled sharply.
No, no, no.
This was hell.
Gemma and Christian had killed me, and this was my punishment before my soul was burned in the afterworld.
I shook my head furiously. “Wake up, wake up, damn it!” I hissed to myself, my nails digging into my scalp.
I looked down at my left side, where the kidney transplant would be. Oh God, there was no ugly, long mark. It was all gone!
I turned my head to the digital clock on the nightstand, and my breath hitched in my throat.
August 14, 2023. 11:59 PM.
It was three years ago. My wedding night to Christian Blackthorne.
I remembered that feeling of my heart stopping. It was real, but the clock didn’t lie. I was really back on the floor of the Blackthorne Hotel, in their honeymoon suite.
The phone on the nightstand buzzed, making me flinch, nearly jumping out of my skin as if I had seen a snake.
I crawled forward, my body shaking as I picked it up. A text message flashed open on the screen.
It was from Gemma.
“Hey, sis! Hope my sweet brother-in-law is treating you well on your wedding night. Have you guys done that special thing couples always do on their first night yet? Tell me everything tomorrow! Xoxo.”
A sick wave of nausea hit my throat.
In my first life, I believed this was my innocent little sister’s way of teasing me. I replied to her text, blushing as I told her Christian was busy with work.
But now I knew. Gemma was gnawing at her nails, and her pretty face was probably twisted in jealousy, thinking Christian was screwing me in the sheets.
I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white before slamming the phone face-down on the mattress. No way was I texting her back.
The bathroom door clicked open.
Every muscle in my body went stiff. My ears started ringing with the sound of Christian’s voice telling Gemma he would cover up my murder.
Christian walked in.
He was wearing his white wedding tuxedo shirt, the top three buttons undone, revealing his muscular, tanned chest and tousled dark hair.
Christian looked exactly as he had back then—the kind of devastatingly handsome man one would only see on billboards.
But the moment his blue eyes landed on me, all the beauty drained from his face.
In fact, his expression turned absolutely despicable, the way it always used to when he was angry with me.
“Get up,” Christian muttered, unfastening his golden watch and tossing it onto the nightstand. “We need to get a few things straight before we go to sleep. You have to listen to me carefully, Natalia, because I’m not going to repeat myself.”
I clutched my stomach as his words sent a wave of trauma down my spine.
My mind flashed back to earlier that day—the day Christian’s real life began.
Their father had stripped his older brother, Lucien Blackthorne, of his birthright and handed the entire multi-billion-dollar empire to Christian instead.
Lucien disowned his own family right there in public and disappeared, and this man, Christian, had spent the whole wedding reception celebrating the fact that he had destroyed his own brother.
“First of all,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he scowled at me.
“Don’t ever dream about me touching you in any way. That's never going to happen. You don’t touch my clothes or get any closer to me. Honestly, I don't understand why you have this weird smell that made my skin itch whenever you were near.”
I smiled.
Christian just wanted an excuse to humiliate me so I would never look into his private world and find out that he was sleeping with his wife's sister.
“I’m sleeping on the bed,” Christian said, not in the least bit bothered by his own words. “You can take the floor or the couch. And don’t expect any love from me because I already have someone I’m giving that to.”
The old Natalia would have dropped to her knees on these rose petals, crying and begging him to give her the smallest piece of his affection.
Gripping the edge of the bed, I slowly slid my leg over the side and stood. I looked him dead in the eye.
“Fortunately for you, Christian, I also wanted the same thing for us.”
Christian stopped. His jaw locked, and he looked at me like I had just spoken in a foreign language.
“What the hell did you just say?”
“You heard me,” I said, stepping back. “I don't want you to touch me either. I don't want this marriage, and I certainly don't want your filthy family name.”
His face turned red, his chest rising and falling in fury.
Nobody dared talk to Christian Blackthorn like that, especially not the girl who had followed him like a lost puppy for the past two years.
“Are you f*****g losing it?” Christian spat, moving toward me. “You have been chasing my attention for years, Natalia. Don’t forget that you practically forced your way into our marriage arrangement.”
“Yeah, I did,” I whispered, staring at his open shirt. “And it was the grossest, most disgusting thing I had ever done in my life. God, I was so stupid to waste three years of my life crying over a prick like you.”
His fists clenched at his sides. He couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth.
“You… you’re drunk from the wedding and talking absolute nonsense.” Christian laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Go to bed, Natalia. We have the press breakfast with the board of directors at 8:00 AM tomorrow.”
Rather than answer him, I walked up to the closet and grabbed my satin overnight bag before taking the dress off the hanger.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Christian demanded.
“I’m going to sleep in the guest room,” I said, walking toward the door.
Christian lunged toward me, his big body blocking the exit.
“Do you have any idea what people are going to say if they see you sleeping alone in another room? You signed the contract, Natalia, which meant you agreed to pretend to be the perfect wife to me in public. So you will sleep in this room.”
Christian reached his hands out, his fingers stretching to grab my wrist.
The moment his skin met mine, panic flared in my chest.
Without thinking, I grabbed one of my silver bridal heels from the floor and smashed it against his forehead as hard as I could.
Christian groaned in pain, staggering back.
He brought his fingers up to his forehead, and when he pulled them away, there was a thin line of blood on the cut.
“Don't you f*****g touch me!” I screamed, my voice shaking from three years of suppressed rage.
“Natalia! Are you f*****g crazy?” Christian yelled in surprise, his eyes widening in shock as he looked at the blood on his fingers.
“Yes! I'm crazy!” I shouted, glaring at him with hatred. “Merely looking at your face is driving me insane!”
Christian slammed his hand against the wall next to my head, trapping me.
He was a billionaire, a man who controlled thousands of people's lives with a signature, and his wife had just drawn blood.
“I am your husband! You will do whatever I say!”
I looked straight into his furious eyes.
“I want a divorce.” The words came out steady and clear.
There was a deafening silence as Christian stopped, his face paling as he studied me.
“A divorce? Natalia, we've only been married for five hours. No, you don't mean that.”
“I mean every single word,” I hissed.
I wanted to kick him in the crotch, smash the clock on his arrogant face so he would never look at me with those condescending eyes again.
“I've realized you're only using me for your stocks and to boost your CEO image, but I'm done playing your pawn!”
Christian's expression darkened, his usual arrogance returning. If anything, it was more infuriating now.
“I wouldn't waste my time thinking about divorce,” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Do you know what that would do to my stocks? My reputation and Blackthorne Enterprises, five hours into our royal wedding?”
Christian leaned closer, his forefinger wrapping around my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“For all I know, your life is forever doomed with me until I say otherwise. You belong to me, Natalia, and you will stay with me and smile for the cameras, or I will make sure every day of yours is a living hell.”
I didn't flinch at his threat. Instead, I looked at the blood on his forehead and smiled.
“Then take your hands off me right now, Christian,” I whispered.
“Because if you don't, I am going to bite my arms until they bleed, scream at the top of my voice, and wake up this whole hotel. Tell me, Christian... how would it sound in the morning news: 'Billionaire CEO Christian Blackthorne beats his new bride ruthlessly on their wedding night'? Wouldn't that be such a lovely headline for your precious stock market?”
Christian’s fingers tightened on my chin for a second.
He didn't let go, but his eyes were locked on my lips. For the very first time, a look of real confusion and suspicion crossed his face.
This wasn't the love-struck Natalia who fainted when he looked at her.
He gripped my wrist tightly, leaning down until his nose almost touched mine.
“What game are you playing, Natalia?” Christian asked, his voice thick with something else—like fear. “What the hell do you want from me?”
I slowly raised my eyes to his, letting out a soft, chilling laugh.
“You’ll find out soon, husband.”
- Writer
