Chapter 2
1143 Words
"Very well, I shall wed!" Grace Martin lifted her tear-stained visage, casting a resentful gaze upon James Martin. She lightly bit her lip, wearing an expression of sorrow that froze James Martin's heart...
In the Martin household, Grace Martin served as a playmate, a helper, and even a cook. She could handle any dirty or tiring work, but she could not endure others speaking ill of her mother!
Her mother's actions in the past had always been a touchy subject for Grace Martin. Despite that, Grace did not blame her mother. Everyone has the right to choose their own way of life.
She was unsure why her mother chose to be the third party subjected to the scorn of thousands, but Grace Martin knew that her mother loved her. Her mother, aware of her heart condition, resolutely gave birth to her.
Grace Martin yearned for a home, a haven of love!
In her room, Grace Martin silently organized her belongings.
"Grace... are you truly going to marry Matthew Wilson?" A low, magnetic male voice.
Grace Martin looked up and found Christopher Brown entering. Christopher Brown, James Martin's adopted son and a key figure in the casino, was known for his ruthless and wild methods.
"Do I have a choice?" Grace Martin replied indifferently.
"I am like you, without a choice! But, Grace Martin, please believe me, in the near future, I will make myself strong, strong enough that no one can shake me! By then, I will marry you as Christopher Brown's wife!" Christopher Brown's face showed a rare seriousness.
Grace Martin was slightly stunned. "Christopher Brown, these words... you should say them to my sister. It seems like you've mistaken the recipient."
"Grace Martin, you know, I am with your sister just to gain control of James Martin's empire. But the person I truly love is you!" Christopher Brown approached, wanting to embrace Grace Martin. However, she used a book to create a barrier between them.
"Christopher Brown, do you know my husband Matthew Wilson?" Grace Martin shifted the topic away. Talking about ambiguous matters with her sister's almost fiancé was not quite appropriate.
"Matthew Wilson?" Christopher Brown elongated the word, lit a cigarette, and eagerly took a puff. Amidst the swirling smoke, his expression was unclear.
"Before he returned to inherit the family business two years ago, he was rumored to be the underworld godfather in the Chinatown of the United States, an absolute legendary figure! Unfortunately, upon his return, the cruise ship he was on was maliciously set ablaze. His mother perished in the flames, while he sustained severe injuries..." Christopher Brown sighed.
Grace Martin's heart tightened suddenly. She could easily imagine the sorrow of a man who had once been outstanding, turned into a 'monster' by the fire.
"Grace Martin, I promise you, within a year at most, I will bring you back to my side. I swear!" Christopher Brown stubbed out the cigarette, making a solemn commitment.
Three days later, at eight o'clock in the evening.
A black extended Mercedes stopped in front of the Martin family villa.
The car had come to pick up Grace Martin.
No guests, no wedding ceremony, no blessings. It deviated too far from the love that Grace Martin had yearned for.
Yet, Grace Martin maintained a smile on her face.
On the way, the car smoothly traversed the roads. A silent tension filled the entire cabin. Grace Martin kept her head high, but her gaze remained hollow, staring out of the car window.
What kind of life awaited her?
Night, dense and dark as ink, silently envelops all things mundane.
The car was about a hundred meters from the gate, and the gate opened automatically. The extended car maintained its speed and continued towards the cluster of villas. It came to a halt only when it reached the main villa.
Grace Martin, somewhat dazed, stepped out of the car.
The main villa was luxurious, brightly lit. Grace Martin, however, had no inclination to admire the scenery but turned her head to observe the surroundings. The atmosphere was tranquil, and under the lights, clusters of unidentified precious flowers and plants exuded an elegant ambiance.
Grace Martin unconsciously took a few deep breaths, letting the fresh air fill her being, temporarily dispelling the troubles in her heart.
The living room exuded an aura of nobility and extravagance, leaving Grace Martin astonished. She had thought the Martins were wealthy, but this place surpassed them by tenfold.
"Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson has requested that you dine first before going upstairs," a spirited middle-aged man informed her.
Suddenly being addressed as Mrs. Wilson, Grace Martin found it a bit unfamiliar. "Good sir, may I ask if Mr. Wilson will not be joining for dinner downstairs?" Grace Martin spoke softly.
"Please call me Uncle Andrew. Mr. Wilson has been dining in his study," Andrew replied before exiting to arrange the dinner.
A vast dining table was set with nearly fifty dishes, yet Grace Martin dined alone, savoring the taste of solitude.
After dinner, Uncle Andrew led Grace Martin upstairs, pointing to a door and saying, "Go in, Mr. Wilson is waiting for you inside."
Grace Martin smiled faintly, intending to knock on the door, only to find it slightly ajar.
The room was pitch-black with no hint of light. When she turned to ask Uncle Andrew, the corridor was deserted. A peculiar feeling swept over Grace Martin, causing her to shudder slightly, but she mustered the courage to step inside.
"Why did you choose to marry me?" a voice emanated from the darkness, chilling as if harboring millennium-old frost.
Grace Martin was momentarily taken aback.
"I wish to have a home, a harbor of love," Grace Martin spoke softly but resolutely.
The man in the darkness fell silent for a moment. "Are you sure you want to turn on the lights?"
"Yes, I want to see my husband! Today is our wedding night!" Grace Martin anticipated and feared something, although she had mentally prepared herself.
The lights illuminated, bathing the entire room in a pale brightness. Grace Martin shielded her eyes, not accustomed to the glaring light.
A moment later, Grace Martin lowered her hand.
"Ah..." a scream of genuine fear tore through the night sky over the entire mansion!
The only way Grace Martin could describe it: the man in the wheelchair resembled a thousand-year-old zombie emerging from a soul-gathering coffin! The crisscrossing scars, like locusts, covered the entire face and hands exposed outside his clothes.
"You seem to despise me?" the man's voice was icy but carried a hint of mockery.
Grace Martin remained silent, thinking to herself: with your distinguished appearance, it would be strange if I liked you!
The man rotated his wheelchair, slowly advancing toward Grace Martin. Despite her efforts to remain calm, she couldn't help but stumble and sit on the carpet.
- Writer
