The God of War Comeback

Chapter 2

The Bull Royal Hotel glowed under a hundred lights, its grand hall filling fast with guests dressed in their best attire. At the entrance, an elderly man stood with a wide smile, greeting each arrival with a slight bow.

"Welcome, welcome. The ceremony begins soon."

That was George Simpson, head of the Simpson family, and today was the proudest day of his life.

"The Simpsons are lucky people," one guest whispered to another as they stepped inside. "Allying with the Clinton family, do you know how many families have tried and failed to get that kind of attention?"

"An honour, truly. The young master himself took interest in their daughter."

Upstairs, behind a closed door, none of that mattered.

Angela sat in front of the mirror, her wedding dress hanging off her shoulders like a weight she couldn't carry. She stared at her own reflection as if she didn't recognise the woman looking back. For six years she had lived like a widow in her own family's house, whispered about, pitied, and pushed aside. Now they wanted her to smile for a stranger.

Tears slid down her cheeks, one after another, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

She didn't want this. She wanted to run. But if she refused, her son's medication would stop overnight, and she had already lost her husband; she would not lose her son too.

"Miss, please. You'll ruin the makeup if you keep crying like this," the makeup artist snapped, dabbing at her face with a cloth.

Angela said nothing; instead, she pressed her lips together and forced the tears to stop, though her chest still shook with the effort.

Everyone knew what kind of man the young master of the Clinton family was. A drunk, gambler and a man who changed women the way other men changed shirts. She would rather die than spend her life with someone like that. But her son's life was on the line, and that single fact silenced every other thought in her head.

The door opened, and Jessica walked in with a gentle smile, her hand already reaching for Angela's shoulder.

"It's time, Angela. Come on, get up." She crouched beside her, voice soft. "Your new family is rich. You'll never have to worry about your son's bills again. He'll get the treatment he needs; he'll get better. You're doing the right thing."

Angela nodded slowly, though her hands were trembling in her lap.

Then the door creaked open again, and a voice cut through the room like a blade.

"Angela."

Her whole body went stiff, and when she turned, her eyes went wide with something between shock and disbelief.

"Alfred!" The name tore out of her before she could stop it.

He walked in slowly, closing the door behind him without a sound, his eyes locked on her the entire time.

"How." Her voice cracked. "How did you even get in here? This is impossible."

Her face softened, and she stood up straight, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm marrying someone else today. I'm not your wife anymore; you need to leave now."

"We're still married, Angela."

"Not anymore." Her voice sharpened, colder than before. "Not after what you did four years ago. You lied to me. You did drugs, and you let the whole world watch me stand there while they dragged you away. I will never let someone like you back into my life."

"I never touched drugs in my life," he said, his voice low. "I was framed; someone destroyed my life on purpose, and you know I would never do that to you, to us."

Angela's jaw tightened. "It's too late, Alfred. The ceremony starts soon."

"It's not too late." He turned his head slowly toward Jessica, who had gone completely still by the wall.

Jessica's face was drained of colour. "What is it you want? You heard her. It's over. There's nothing left to say."

Alfred took one step forward, and Jessica flinched back so hard she nearly hit the wall behind her.

"Don't come near me!" she shouted, her voice cracking with fear.

"You know exactly what happened that night," Alfred said, stopping a few feet from her, his eyes never leaving her face. "And you never said a word."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jessica turned her face away, unable to hold his stare.

Angela's eyes moved back and forth between them, confusion turning slowly into dread. "What's going on? Jessica, what is he talking about?"

"Nothing! He's talking nonsense, Angela, don't listen to him.." She hurriedly replied.

"If you won't tell her," Alfred cut in, his voice rising for the first time, sharp enough to silence the room, "then I will. You were paid to plant that bag in my room. You were the only person who walked in and out of that room that night, no one else."

Jessica opened her mouth to argue, but Alfred's glare stopped the words in her throat. "Lie to me one more time," he said quietly, "and you won't see tomorrow morning."

Angela's breath caught. "Jessica. Tell me it isn't true."

Silence stretched through the room, thick and unbearable, until Jessica finally broke, her shoulders sinking. "It's true," she whispered. "What did you want me to do? You found love, you had this perfect life waiting for you, and I was struggling, drowning, and no one cared. You think you were the only one who deserved something good?" Her voice cracked into a sob.

"I placed the drugs in his bag; I was paid for it. That same money is what paid for your son's hospital bills, Angela. That money kept him alive."

"Son?" Alfred's head turned sharply toward Angela, his eyes locking onto hers. "Angela, do we have a son?"

Before she could answer, the door swung open again, and an older woman stormed in, her sharp eyes scanning the room with growing irritation.

"What is going on here? Why is everyone still standing around? The guests are waiting to see the bride!" That was Sarah, Angela's mother, her voice already rising. "Jessica, you told me everything was ready. Why do you both look like this?"

No one answered her.

Alfred's voice, low and final, cut through the silence instead.

"Call off the wedding.”