An overwhelming sense of helplessness and defeat swallowed me whole.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
Tears poured from my eyes and as I looked at the pile of ash on the ground, I felt my shattered heart burn away with it.
I should have known the moment he proposed the secret marriage three years ago.
My sister and I were nothing more than pawns, used to placate his family.
The only person who ever mattered to them was Tere.
But I realized it far too late.
Clifford, with disgust etched on his face, gently wiped his hand with a tissue.
Then, he went over to comfort Tere.
She sobbed pitifully for a while before Adrian finally loosened his grip on my neck.
But it wasn’t out of compassion—he was too busy handing Tere tissues.
I watched as the two Cain Family men surrounded her, their faces filled with concern and affection.
Gradually, Tere's sobbing quieted in response to their soothing voices.
In that moment, I felt utterly foolish for the past three years, pitiful even.
I lifted my foot, walking toward my sister who was slumped on the ground, my only thought being to take her away from this place.
But Tere still wouldn’t let us go.
Even though she was the one who had clearly won, as soon as I helped my sister to her feet, she walked up to us, holding a thermos container, looking aggrieved.
"Wanda, I’m sorry... I really am. I didn’t expect things to turn out this way. I know you hate me, but this is just a small gesture for Uncle. I hope you’ll accept it on his behalf..."
Slowly, I lowered my head, staring at the very person responsible for my father's death, the one who wouldn’t let him rest in peace.
In that instant, my emotions spiraled out of control.
I snatched the thermos from her hands and smashed it against her head.
The next second, thick soup spilled down her head, matting her hair into clumps. The scent of meat mixed with her shampoo, making me nauseous.
With bloodshot eyes, I roared, "Get out! Stop pretending to be kind in front of me!"
Clifford kept his gaze locked on me, a clear warning in his eyes.
At the same moment I struck, he rushed in front of me.
His leather shoe slammed into my stomach with a vicious kick.
Then he hurried to pull Tere into his arms, using his expensive shirt to wipe the soup from her head.
I crashed into the wall, my lower back hitting hard and I slid helplessly to the ground.
By the time most of the mess was wiped away, Tere's face was already soaked with tears.
Clifford tore off his soiled shirt and tossed it aside.
He stepped toward me, bending down to grip my face, squeezing so hard it felt like he was about to shatter my jawbone.
Just as he raised his hand, about to strike me, Tere spoke up through her sobs:
"Cliff, please don't be angry. This is all my fault. I saw that Uncle's plane ticket was fake and thought he’d arrive late. If I had known this would happen, I would’ve prepared the soup earlier. It's my fault for ruining your wedding. It’s normal for Wanda to be upset..."
Adrian hurriedly handed her more tissues, even thoughtfully grabbing a towel to dry her hair.
Hearing this, rage flooded my veins, my eyes bloodshot, temples throbbing.
My dad had never even flown on a plane in his entire life!
To save money for me and my sister, he had canceled his plane ticket and switched to a train.
Yet in her mouth, it became some scheming lie.
"Shut up! You have no right to talk about my dad!"
The words had barely left my mouth when Clifford slapped me across the face.
Blood seeped from my lip, a metallic taste rising in my throat.
He roared, "The one who should shut up is you! Say one more word and I'll rip your mouth apart!"
"This fake wedding was all arranged by Tere for you! What right do you have to shout at her?"
"What do you think you are? If your dad knew you used his illness over and over as an excuse to demand marriage, wouldn’t he have died from anger right on the spot?"
A crack appeared in my expression, my face twisted with hatred.
All I felt now was bitterness and mockery.
I thought of that cheap wedding and let out a cold, bitter laugh.
No wonder everything was so rushed.
From the very beginning, Tere never intended for them to attend the ceremony.
Everything that happened today had been part of her plan all along.
Seeing my silence, Clifford assumed I was feeling regret.
His voice dripped with contempt: "Tere even went out of her way to contact a wedding company to help you redo it and pulled strings with hospital experts to get your dad an appointment. But looking at you now, I don’t think it’s even necessary anymore!"
"Now, apologize to Tere immediately and then take your sister and get out of my house!"
I grabbed his arm, my voice icy as I spoke:
"Redo it? Do you even hear yourself? You could redo it a thousand times and she'd destroy it a thousand and one! Spare yourself the trouble—just go ahead and plan the next one for the three of you! My sister and I want no part of it."
"Apologize? Only when she kneels before my father and admits her guilt!"
Fury ignited in his eyes as he spat each word through clenched teeth:
"Wanda, do you really think I'm being kind to you? Are you too dense to understand plain words?"
"This sham of a wedding? You begged for it—two days and two nights on your knees! What, now you're backing out? Or are you scared people will figure out your dad’s illness was just a lie?"
"Three years ago, you said he was on his deathbed to push for marriage. Now, three years later, he's dying again and you use it to justify a wedding. Looks like your dad's got a pretty strong will to live..."
I was stunned, unable to fathom that he’d twist my father’s illness into a weapon, accusing me of manipulating him for marriage.
In that moment, my blood froze and I clenched my fists with all my strength, my knuckles trembling.
"Shut up! You’re not worthy of mentioning my dad! You’re not worthy!"
"Clifford, divorce me! Right now! I never want to see you again! You three can rot together in hell!"
Hearing me mention divorce again, he lunged forward, both hands gripping my throat.
His hold tightened and my face turned a deep shade of purple from the pressure.
Tere had just finished cleaning the leaves from her hair and seeing what was happening, she rushed over to pull Clifford's hands away.
Not wanting to defy her, Clifford finally let go just before I lost consciousness.
Tere approached me, tears brimming in her eyes, looking pitiful as ever. She bent down, reaching out to help me up, but my sister, who had just regained consciousness, shoved her aside.
The force was so strong that Tere's hand slammed against the corner of a cabinet and she let out a muffled groan of pain.
Adrian immediately pulled her into his arms, tenderly inspecting her injured hand, then turned and shouted at my sister:
"You just don't learn, do you? Looks like I've been too lenient! And now you're even threatening divorce to get your way? Fine, divorce it is! Your dad’s been putting on this sick act for three years—I'm done with it! Divorce him, let him die angry, it’s no concern of mine!"
Clifford’s face had darkened completely.
I pulled my sister to her feet, limping as we prepared to leave, when I heard him snarl through gritted teeth:
"Didn’t you hear me? Both of you, apologize to Tere!"
Everything that had just happened crushed the last shred of hope I had left.
Hearing his voice now, I could only laugh coldly. "We’re done. Who do you think you are to demand an apology? The one who should be apologizing is that wretched woman who won't even let my father rest in peace!"
"No, actually, the three of you are all disgusting. A perfect match made in hell!"
Just as I stepped toward the door, Clifford grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me back violently.
My sister tried to reach for me, panic written all over her face, but it was too late.
Clifford shoved me to my knees in front of Tere, his leather shoe digging painfully into my calf, holding me down like I was nothing.
As he pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant, he sneered, “Apologize now, or I’ll make sure your father’s funeral happens while he’s still breathing.”
The line connected and the threat in his eyes darkened.
I clenched my jaw and spit at him.
Unfazed, he snapped, “Cancel the wedding. Turn it into Wanda Lloyd’s father’s funeral. This charade has dragged on long enough—time to make it official. And cancel that hospital appointment Tere set up for him.”
The voice on the other end quickly replied, “Mr. Cain, Miss Lloyd’s father passed away this morning… during the wedding.”
