The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 69: Who have you been speaking to?

Time was counting for Alice. It was just past 6 AM, and the unfamiliar luxurious room offered no solace. She didn’t even have the time to wonder what reason had made Pricilla call her to come out by this ungodly hour. She snatched a t-shirt and shorts—the first things she grabbed from the suitcase Suzy had brought—and hurried into the bathroom. There was no time for contemplation.

Mouthwash. Gargle.

Face. Wash. Swish, swish.

Concealer? No time.

But powder. She grabbed it, dabbing it quickly onto her face. It didn’t cover much, but it did a good job.

By the time she raced down the grand staircase, the doorbell was already ringing insistently, echoing through the silent mansion like a war cry.

Rowan was there, standing with the door ajar, his expression a masterpiece of weary disdain.

"Isn’t it too early to ring like that?" he asked, his voice clipped, clearly unamused by unexpected guests this early in the morning and her frantic approach.

"Who are you?" Priscilla asked him.

"Rowan. The Chef." His tone was clipped, formal, but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of irritation.

Pricillia’s imperious voice cut through the air, sharp as a whip. "And how dare a common chef speak to me in that manner?"

Just then, Alice came down the stairs, hair still a mess, but her spine straight and her face set with steel.

"Enough," Alice said sharply, stepping in front of Rowan and facing Pricillia. "Mother."

Rowan blinked.

Pricillia turned slowly toward Alice, visibly taken aback by her tone.

Alice observed her: same cold eyes, same perfectly tailored suit, an aura of expensive, unyielding power. But her posture was rigid today, her expression stretched tight over something raw and furious, a barely contained storm.

Pricillia, too, was doing her own subtle assessment. Alice could see the irritation in her eyes as she meticulously scanned her clothes and barely-concealed face. The disgust was almost palpable.

There was a heavy pause. Rowan’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes flickered with something—confusion? Doubt? Because from their intel, yes. It said Aurora was a pushover, utterly subservient to her mother. But once again, here she was was acting anything unlike they had known. Unless both his and Milo’s information were wildly wrong, which was hardly the case.

Pricillia’s eyes narrowed, but with an almost theatrical effort, she softened her expression, her voice dripping with the saccharine tone of a loving mother speaking to her errant daughter. "Let’s have a chat outside, dear."

Alice would have scoffed if she also didn’t need to keep herself in character, for now. "Sure, mother." Then, she turned to look at Rowan, offering him a small, reassuring nod, a silent apology. "Apologies for how my mother sounded to you. She gets grumpy sometimes in the morning."

Pricillia glared at Alice, a silent warning in her eyes, but Alice ignored it. Alice gave Rowan another small nod—she was okay. Probably. And followed Pricillia out, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

They walked side by side, a picture of a loving mother and daughter, towards where Pricillia’s sleek, black car was parked. Her assistant, who had driven them, discreetly stepped away, giving them privacy.

"Start talking," Pricillia commanded, her saccharine tone vanishing the moment they were out of earshot. Her voice was sharp, demanding.

Alice looked at her, confused. "Talking about what exactly?"

"Why did I just find out there’s a legal issue with Hades? Why are you living in his house? What the hell are you doing?!" Pricillia’s voice rose with each question, escalating from frustration to barely controlled rage.

Alice winced. "It’s not like I planned any of it—"

"Not like you—" Pricillia shook her head in disbelief, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping her lips. "Do you understand what this looks like? You’re staying under the roof of the most dangerous, unpredictable man in the Wildfire family. You could destroy everything." fгeewebnovёl.com

"I didn’t have a choice!" Alice snapped, her own temper flaring. "We had an agreement, yes. But it was to marry Dawin. You even assured me he wouldn’t be in often and I could live alone—"

"Oh, cry me a river." Pricillia’s tone was pure acid, cutting through Alice’s explanation. "I agreed to double the amount! A fortune for someone like you!" she reminded her, her voice dripping with contempt.

"And I accepted it. I did all I could do. So what would you have had me do when he suddenly wanted to move me into his place? Do you think any of this is easy for me? I live on eggshells every second!" Alice’s voice was rising, laced with genuine frustration.

"And then you look like this?!" Pricillia asked in disgust, her eyes raking over Alice from head to toe, her expression a mix of contempt and sudden, dawning suspicion.

"I was specific! Use a concealer 24 hours! And what is this awful thing you are wearing?" Pricillia scoffed, as if a sudden, heinous truth had clicked into place for her. "Is this your plan? To seduce Hades and live a good life? Did you suddenly think ’ah! I could get more if I were the mrs’?"

Alice stared at her, utterly speechless for a moment, her disbelief warring with a flash of cold fury.

"I gave you one task," Pricillia continued, her voice hardening, oblivious to Alice’s reaction. "Live quietly. Pretend to be Aurora. Keep your head down until this mess is cleared up. Now everything is spinning out of control."

"Priscilla, even if you are paying me, you have no right to speak to me in that manner. I don’t care if you got your life now by giving yourself to a man, but do not accuse me—"

SLAP.

The slap came fast, hard, and echoed in the still courtyard, sharp and undeniable. Alice’s head jerked to the side, her cheek stinging instantly, a blinding shock blurring the sounds around her.

Pricillia was brimming with a cold, righteous anger. Her eyes blazed. "How dare you?!" She was livid, her face contorted. "If you weren’t having the same face as Aurora, do you think you’d ever be useful to me? That you would ever meet me? You have guts. Disgusting one."

Alice could not find the right words to say. She was stunned, the sting on her cheek a physical manifestation of the insult. A disbelieving scoff escaped her lips.

"That... will slide," Alice said, her voice low, a tremor of fury beneath the shock. "But... if you ever do that again, I’d hit you back." The words, stark and chillingly calm, stunned Pricillia into silence.

"W-What?" Pricillia stammered, genuinely taken aback, her own anger momentarily eclipsed by disbelief.

"You heard me," Alice said, meeting Pricillia’s gaze with an unwavering stare. Her voice, though still quiet, held a new, steely resolve. "As you already know, I am a lot different from Aurora. Don’t... push me."

Pricillia looked up, scoffing, as she chewed on her lips, her fists clenching subtly beside her, but she forced herself to remain still, her mind visibly calculating.

"Who else knows?" Pricillia demanded, the topic shift abrupt and sharp.

"Knows what?" Alice asked, still trying to contain her fury.

"You know what I mean. About your identity."

Alice saw Hardy’s face in her mind. The lie was bitter on her tongue. "No one," Alice said finally, her voice firm despite the awful taste.

Pricillia didn’t look convinced. Her eyes narrowed, assessing. "I hope that’s true. Because if someone talks—if one thread unravels—it all comes down. Do you understand me?"

Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, the question sharp and insistent, changing the subject with a defiant air. "Where is Paula?"

Pricillia’s face was taut with impatience, her eyes flashing. "She’s fine. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Alice stared at her, eyes narrowing, an unyielding demand in her gaze. "Where?"

"She’s fine, Alice. I gave her a job at the firm, she’s safe, she’s being paid, and she’s out of trouble. Just like I expect from you." Pricillia’s voice was dismissive, trying to end the conversation.

Alice’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, frustration coiling in her gut. At this rate, she couldn’t even ask to meet Paula. She was completely cut off.

This was all messed up.

"Then... what about Aurora?" she asked, her voice softer, but laced with a poignant undercurrent that Pricillia likely missed.

"Excuse me?" Pricillia’s brow furrowed, thrown by the unexpected inquiry.

"Aurora," Alice said, her voice lower now, almost a whisper, but charged with accusation. "Where is she?"

Pricillia’s lips pressed together, a hint of genuine discomfort flickering in her eyes. "I already told you. She’s in a safe location."

"In the country?" Alice’s voice was sharp, piercing, designed to provoke.

Pricillia’s expression didn’t shift—but her eyes did. Barely. A flicker of something—calculation. A brief, almost imperceptible hesitation.

Then she stepped forward. Slowly. Her voice dropped, a dangerous softness.

"Who have you been speaking to?"

"No one."

"Don’t lie to me." Pricillia’s voice was low, menacing.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l