The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 42: A mixed feelings victory.

"Now, to the accusation that Mr. Wildfire forcibly obtained private security footage. That is, again, false," Alice began, her voice even but firm. Inside, her heart was anything but.

She could hear it. Loud, wild, irrational.

Even more than the faint murmurs from the crowd.

What was she doing?

Why was she doing this again?

God—what if this is all just embarrassing nonsense to them? What if they laugh? Or worse—roll their eyes?

She pushed the papers forward anyway. Just keep going.

"The footage was handed over—voluntarily—by the property owners in charge."

She gestured for the council assistant. The batch of signed forms, her one lifeline, was passed up front.

"These are signed testimonies from each party confirming that Mr. Wildfire neither threatened nor coerced them. He asked. They complied. Because—like many others—they were curious, or simply didn’t see any harm."

Lies. They were dealing with Hades. If Hades had asked for their hearts, they may have as well dug it out and handed it to him out of fear. Because he looked like he could do worse to them.

Alice forced herself to breathe as someone near the front blinked, actually blinked, in surprise. Flipping through the documents like he hadn’t expected them to exist.

A flicker of confidence bloomed—and she ran with it.

"As for why Mr. Wildfire requested these recordings, I will not insult this council with an elaborate excuse."

She paused—briefly.

Come on. Own it. Say it like you’ve planned. Her eyes flickered to Hades briefly, who looked like he had not taken his eyes away from her since he sat there. She looked away immediately.

"The... the truth is... it’s simply a bizarre hobby of his. An eccentricity. He finds quiet joy in watching street surveillance. Like people who enjoy listening to old radios or analyzing chess replays. That is, perhaps, unusual—but hardly criminal."

Maybe mostly PERVERTED though.

There was a short, startled chuckle from the back and some others followed.

She did her best to not look at Hades. She also didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking right now.

She pushed on.

"Also, he was unaware that this fell under any policy violation. Mr. Wildfire recently returned from an extended stay overseas. He has spent most of his adult life abroad, and was not fully briefed on the estate’s evolving code of conduct regarding digital property and community surveillance rights."

She could feel her palms dampen. Her eyes, without permission, flicked toward Hardy Cresswell. Like she knew that if he looked pleased, then she was doing it correctly.

But there was no expression. Just that calm, unreadable face.

She turned away sharply.

Keep going. You’ve got this. Maybe. Hopefully. God, please.

"Also, he did not sign any documents which explicitly stated that collecting CCTV footage in the estate was illegal, especially when it was handed over to him willingly. I do not want to include my private life, but I recently moved into this estate and did not receive any such documents either. Doesn’t it mean I can as well do the same? So who is at fault in this circumstance?"

From the corner of her eye, she caught Hades’ head tilt. Slight. Amused.

Did she just call him ignorant—in court?

Yes. She did.

She ignored him and charged ahead.

"So if Mr. Wildfire failed to return the tapes swiftly or even destroyed it, it wasn’t out of malice or defiance. It was a misjudgment born of cultural re-acclimation—and a rather peculiar personal interest."

Her gaze lifted, steadying itself. It landed briefly on Hardy again.

Are you buying this?

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Then—oddly—she noticed Hades watching her. No, not her. Watching her watch Hardy.

Her stomach sank. What the hell was that?

But she snapped out of it and delivered her closing strike.

"And for that, we are not refusing accountability. I am proposing a compromise. That instead of dragging this minor misunderstanding into needless scandal or threats of imprisonment, the board consider a financial penalty—a fine. One significant enough to deter such future misunderstandings, but fair enough to acknowledge the absence of real harm."

Shifts in chairs.

A low wave of murmurs rippled across the room.

The chairwoman leaned forward slightly.

The Matriarch didn’t move. Still silent. Still watching.

Alice swallowed.

"This case does not deserve outrage. It deserves proportionality. Let’s not punish initiative or eccentricity under the guise of order. Let’s settle this with clarity—not politics."

And then she was done.

She sat down—fast. Her knees were like paper. Weak and thin and barely holding.

She tried to rack her brain if she had forgotten anything or missed up the right words. Some of those words were the first time she was using them. Even in the books she wrote, she kept the language minimal. She wasn’t even sure what half of those words meant. But she could only pray now. Otherwise, she was doomed. Aurora too. Pricillia too and of course, Pauline.

There was a pause. Then—

A single, soft clap.

From somewhere behind.

Followed by an amused scoff from one of the younger advocates.

Alice barely resisted the urge to cover her face.

She looked around.

Then up front, the council chair leaned toward a mic.

"We have heard the defense. And... we acknowledge that it makes a compelling case for leniency. After brief deliberation, we propose a fine in lieu of criminal charges."

Alice blinked.

Wait. That worked?

She was about to smile—a real, almost idiotic smile—when the woman added:

"The fine shall be set at ten million."

Alice’s smile shattered.

"T-TTen million?!" she blurted, half-rising from her seat.

Do they know what 10 million was?

If Hades decides to return the tapes to avoid paying this money, then she would be doomed!

Alice opened her mouth to argue—

But a quiet voice from the mic cut her off.

"I’ll pay it."

She turned—stunned.

Hades was calm, his lips barely parted from the mic before him. His tone casual, bored even. As if she’d asked if he wanted sugar in his tea.

Alice gaped at him. Was he crazy?

He didn’t look at her. His attention remained on the council.

"It will be wired by evening." frёewebηovel.cѳm

Alice stared, stunned. A dozen thoughts colliding like glass in her skull. He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t blink.

Ten million.

She was putting her life at risk here, pretending to be Aurora for the same amount. Yet...

She should’ve said something. Anything. Instead, she sat there like a frozen statue.

And yet... part of her—an infuriating, inexplicable part—felt warm with something that tasted like triumph.

They’d listened. She’d won.

Kind of.

Mostly.

And even if Hades had just casually dropped ten million like he was paying a lunch bill, he didn’t look like he was disappointed in her.

That... meant something. Right?

The Matriarch rose slowly from her seat, breaking the tension like a sword through fog. One by one, the others stood.

The session was over.

Dawin stood up, following the Matriach out.

But Alice remained seated a few seconds longer, trying to make sense of the chaos in her chest.

Her eyes drifted one last time to Hardy.

Still blank. Still unreadable.

Fine. She didn’t need his approval.

Except... she did.

Just a little.

Because she was sure he had helped her with this.

---

"That was..." Suzy grinned, wide and wild, pulling Alice into a brief, breathless hug. "God, Aurora—you just proved it."

Alice blinked. "P-Proved what?"

"That you are who they say you are. The legal queen."

Alice tried to smile, but she couldn’t feel her legs. Or her lungs. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh, cry, or faint.

Around them, others filtered out. A few gave her subtle nods. Some whispered in clusters. But not everyone looked pleased. Especially the two young ladies who were members of the legal team. Their gazes sliced through Alice with something between suspicion and disdain.

"Look at her pretending to be modest," the redhead muttered.

Alice ignored them.

She scanned the crowd—then panicked.

Where was Hades?

They couldn’t just let things off like that after he agreed to pay that money. In fact, this just meant her hope of moving into his apartment was next to impossible at this point.

She ignored everyone and everything else as she picked up her bag and hurried outside to find him.

As soon as she stepped out the main door, she almost tripped but suddenly, a hand reached out, grabbing her firmly before she could fall forward.

"Careful," the familiar voice said as he helped her steady on her feet.

Hardy.

She blinked at him, taking a step back.

He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair tousled slightly from the wind. His face was unreadable but far from cold.

He smiled faintly.

"I knew you could do it."

Alice stared at him, her heart tripping all over again—but this time, for a different reason.

She could not longer keep pretending while it ate her up. So she decided to just ask.

Her voice dropped. "Was it you?"

Hardy just looked at her like an interesting puzzle. No answers.

He didn’t respond.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to read past his calm expression. "It was you, wasn’t it?"

A beat passed.

Then Hardy looked at her—really looked at her—and said, casually:

"Me who, Alice?"

Her breath caught.

Her name.

Not Aurora.

He had called her Alice.

Just—Alice.

Her eyes widened, the implication sinking deep, like a stone dropped in still water.

Behind them, an engine purred.

Hardy’s gaze flicked—just once—toward the car. Almost like he knew they were being watched.

The car, sleek and tinted, waited by the curb. Inside, Hades sat back with his arms folded, one hand resting on his knee as he stared blankly ahead.

"Now... who’s that bastard?" he asked flatly.