He Locked Me Up, I Married His Nephew

Chapter 2

The dinner table went dead silent.

Derek's gaze turned icy, thick with displeasure. "Cecilia, what the hell are you talking about? I told you before we got married. The Hayes family doesn't do divorce. Only death does us part."

Cecilia flinched.

Right. In the book, Derek never divorced. Only death parted them.

And "death" meant her death.

She opened her mouth to say more, but Mrs. Brooks slammed her fork down, her face dark.

"Cecilia, have you gone crazy after a month in that place? Keep talking nonsense, and you'll end up right back in there."

The phantom sting of the electroshock scars still prickled under her skin.

Cecilia tightened her grip on her fork and swallowed her words.

After dinner, night had already fallen.

Derek rose with her to take their leave, taking her back to their marital home.

The villa was eerily quiet.

Derek didn't like having staff around after dark, so it was just the two of them.

The wedding decorations plastered everywhere had been torn down, leaving only glue stains and faded outlines on the walls.

Once inside, Derek led her to the guest room. "The master bedroom lock is busted. You take the guest room for now. I've got stuff to handle tonight, so I won't be sleeping here."

With that, he turned and hurried out.

Cecilia glanced at the master bedroom door across the hall, her eyes narrowing.

She knew the story now. The lock wasn't broken. Derek just didn't want her in there.

Because on their wedding night, the very night he'd had her committed, Derek dragged Amelia into their bed and kicked off the opening scene of their R-18 script.

The master bedroom probably still bore the remnants of that night.

Fine by her. She didn't want to sleep on someone else's dirty sheets anyway.

Cecilia went to the guest room, tidied up, and closed her eyes in bed.

According to the original plot, ever since Derek had crossed that line with Amelia, he'd been racking up "scenes" every night in all sorts of places.

Tonight, he wasn't coming back.

And for the first time in a month, she finally got a decent night's sleep.

Derek didn't come home at all.

The next morning, his assistant showed up with two gowns.

"Mrs. Hayes, there's a banquet tonight. Mr. Hayes is tied up, so he sent me to pick you up. He said to take your pick."

She laid out two dresses in front of Cecilia. One blue. One red.

Cecilia remembered now. This was where the novel had her starting her revenge on Amelia.

In the book, both she and Amelia wore the red dress.

At the banquet, Cecilia splashed wine all over Amelia and made snide remarks about her being a fraud playing dress-up.

Derek had witnessed the whole thing and hated her even more for it.

Snapping back to the present, Cecilia pointed to the right. "I'll take the blue one."

If she chose a different dress from the one in the story, could she escape the fate that was written for her?

That evening, when Cecilia arrived at the venue, Derek was already waiting. They walked into the banquet hall together.

The moment they stepped inside, Cecilia's eyes landed on Amelia, huddled alone in the farthest corner.

Their eyes met, and Amelia rushed over, teary-eyed, grabbing Cecilia's hand. "Cecilia, Derek, you're finally here. This is my first time at this kind of thing. I don't know anything. I'm so scared I'll mess up!"

Before Cecilia could respond, Derek spoke up. "Don't worry. We've got you."

As he said it, his hand patted Amelia's in what looked like reassurance.

But Cecilia knew better. It was foreplay.

She quietly pulled her hand back and said nothing.

Soon, Derek was called away by a business partner, leaving Cecilia alone with Amelia.

Cecilia thought to herself, she wouldn't be foolish enough to snipe at Amelia. She wouldn't splash wine on her either.

So maybe the plot could still be changed.

But what she didn't expect was that even if she didn't do it, someone else would.

She'd only stepped away to use the restroom. When she came back, a pack of socialite girls had already cornered Amelia.

"Let us teach you a lesson on Cecilia's behalf!"

Wine splashed all over Amelia.

Seconds later, Cecilia watched her husband charge over, shrug off his jacket, and wrap it around Amelia. He tore into the girls, had someone fetch clean clothes, and then led Amelia upstairs to the changing room on the second floor.

This time, Cecilia had done nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And yet every pair of eyes in the room still landed on her. Those looks, mocking or pitying, cut into her like knives.

She forced herself to stay composed and simply said to the socialites, "Please don't use my name to bully Amelia anymore."

She couldn't afford the ending the wicked side character got.

Just then, a maid walked by with fresh clothes, heading upstairs.

Cecilia called out. "Please give those to me. I'll take them up."

If she remembered correctly, Derek and Amelia were probably already starting their changing-room scene.

In the novel, the maid's nervous knock had actually added to the thrill for them.

Cecilia made her way upstairs, step by step.

She wondered if they knew it was her knocking, the thrill would still be there.