The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 61: A messy morning (2)

Milo nearly choked. "No, you idiot! Aurora, Dawin, and Boss!"

Rowan blinked, deadpan. "You’re insane. The last person on Earth who would do love is Boss. And if he did, it’d be with himself. In a mirror. Fully clothed."

Before Milo could defend his theory, Rowan’s phone chimed. He checked it with the detached efficiency of a man used to switching between disaster and gossip. His brow furrowed.

"Drug warehouse just got raided," he said, reading off the screen. "Multiple arrests."

For a brief second, the domestic soap opera lost center stage to something slightly more professional.

"Interesting," Rowan muttered.

Milo, however, remained locked onto the screen like a man watching the final act of a thriller. If he’d had popcorn, it’d be gone by now. Unfortunately, his "movie" ended abruptly when Dawin received a call. The man’s expression shifted. Calm, unreadable. And after exchanging one long glance with Hades and Gavin, he turned and walked away.

Click.

The door shut behind him with precision, courtesy of Gavin.

Hades didn’t move. His eyes stayed glued to the door, sharp and unreadable, like he half-expected Dawin to burst back in with yet another twist.

Then he exhaled. Quiet, but heavy. Like a man who knew he’d just made a decision he couldn’t take back.

His jaw locked. His fingers curled once, then released.

And he walked off.

Each step down the corridor landed like a suppressed curse. He wasn’t just irritated, he was agitated. At himself. At Dawin. At Aurora. At whatever strange impulse had made the words "She’s moving in" leave his mouth like some kind of lunatic.

Impulse.

A mistake.

He hated mistakes.

He reached the guest room.

The door didn’t stand a chance.

He flung it open like it owed him money.

Inside, Alice lay curled under the covers, blissfully unaware of the chaos she’d left in her wake since last night. Her breathing was soft. Peaceful. Her brows slightly furrowed in sleep, as if mildly annoyed by the sound of the door.

Should he smother her with a pillow? Just end this idiotic saga now?

No. Too messy. Too much paperwork.

He stared at her. Just stared.

He stood there a moment longer, unsure what the hell he was even doing.

His gaze narrowed on her face, brows raising unconsciously.

Then—she stirred.

A slow inhale. A blink. Another.

Her lashes fluttered.

Then—BAM. Eye contact.

Blink.

Eye contact again. Wider eyes now.

Alice jerked upright with a gasp.

First mistake.

His gaze dropped before he could stop it.

Second mistake.

The blanket had slipped down.

Third—and final—mistake.

She was naked.

Suzy hadn’t mentioned that part before she left last night. She had only said, "I helped her settle in. Let her rest."

Alice followed his gaze.

Looked down.

Her eyes widened.

And then—"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The scream shattered the air like glass exploding under pressure.

Alice flailed backward into the headboard, dragging the blanket up like it was the last barrier between her and public humiliation. Her face turned scarlet. Maybe even purple.

Hades didn’t say a word.

He turned. Walked out. Shut the door behind him with the kind of finality usually reserved for funeral homes.

And then stood there.

Like a statue.

A very, very irritated statue.

Inside the room: "WHY—WHY AM I—WHY AM I NAKED?!"

He answered like he was reporting a maintenance issue. "It wasn’t me."

Beat.

"WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT FIRST?!" she screeched.

"You screamed like it was," he muttered.

Another pause.

"I—Is this your place? Why... why am I here?! Where... are my clothes?!"

"How should I know?" he snapped.

"What do you mean how should you know?! Why—why am I here? Naked?! With you!?"

"You are not with me!" He snapped once again, his tone reflecting his irritation.

"You passed out. Fever. The doctor came. Suzy helped."

The fact that he needed to raise his voice so she could hear him across the door made him even angrier.

But he had no other choice in this case.

"...Doctor?" she repeated, like the word might magically make sense of anything.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall.

Milo appeared first, practically skidding across the floor like a golden retriever in socks. Rowan followed, out of breath but trying to look casual.

"Boss?!" Milo gasped. "We heard screaming—"

"Get. Out." Hades growled, standing in front of the door like it led to the underworld.

Rowan blinked. "To where? We live here too—"

"I said. Out."

They exchanged looks.

Retreated immediately.

Then came Gavin.

He had been standing at the end of the hallway the entire time since following Hades up. He never went into the room—didn’t even pretend to care. Instead, he lingered at the far end like a gargoyle on break: back against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, a half-burned cigar between his lips, exhaling smoke with the serenity of a man watching a slow-motion car crash.

Gavin’s gaze drifted lazily from the ceiling to the door Hades had just slammed shut.

He took one glance at Hades—who looked like he was one internal crisis away from hurling himself off the balcony—and then at the door again.

"See why people knock first?" he said flatly, like this was standard protocol he’d had printed on a mug somewhere.

And with that, Gavin pushed off the wall and walked away, smoke trailing behind him, like this was just another item crossed off a checklist.

Hades’s eyes followed him until he disappeared from view. He remained where he stood, jaw clenched like he was grinding diamonds in his mouth.

Then, finally, he dragged a hand down his face with a long exhale that was equal parts regret, exhaustion, and murder.

He didn’t like how his life was turning out.

Not even a little bit.

---

Inside the room, Alice sat frozen, half-buried under the blanket, her pulse thundering in her ears.

Then—another scream burst from her throat as a memory struck her like lightning. She shot out of bed like the blanket had caught fire, dragging it with her in a tangled mess as she stumbled toward the en suite bathroom.

Dignity? Gone. Coordination? Questionable.

She crashed through the bathroom door and slammed it shut behind her, bracing herself against the cool marble counter.

And there it was.

The mirror.

The horror.

Freckles.

She blinked. Squinted.

More freckles.

"Oh no," she muttered. "Oh God. No."

Her fingers touched her cheek in disbelief.

If it was Suzy like Hades had said, the she had been the one to ’help her’ clean her make up.

The concealer that usually masked her freckles? Gone. And the mascara? Smudged just enough to look like she’d cried herself through a rock concert.

She looked like a raccoon who’d been mugged. Her scattered hair did not help matters.

"Oh God," she whispered again, clinging to the sink. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

Then the wave of nausea hit her so hard she thought she might pass out again.

Hades her seen it. Seen her.

It keeps getting worse.

She gripped the counter and turned her head to the side, only to spot her dress from last night, unceremoniously stuffed into the laundry basket like someone had violently rejected it.

SUZY!!!

She shook her head. No. She couldn’t judge her.

She didn’t know the details, but the girl had helped her last night. It wasn’t Suzy’s fault that she had wore no bra under the dress. She was only left wearing her panties now.

The thought of someone even taking off her clothes...

And that’s when it hit her again.

She was still naked.

In Hades Wildfire’s house.

She checked herself. Everything. Still there. Still intact.

...Nothing had happened, right?

Right?

Her thoughts raced as she tried to catch up with what led her to this point.

Hardy. Yes. She had been speaking with Hardy.

And suddenly, dread filled her as she remembered the details of their conversation.

Aurora.

But then, that wasn’t just it. Hades had appeared and what else?

That strange, heavy tension in the air. And then—

Her breath caught in her throat as the next memory slapped her across the face: he had picked her up. Carried her.

She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth, staring at her reflection like she barely recognized the woman looking back.

Her cheeks were crimson now. Her eyes wide.

But no—no—the worst part came next.

The present.

She remembered what had just happened between them. The door. The stare. The slip of the blanket.

Alice let out a sound that was something between a sob and a squawk. Her body crumpled halfway to the floor before she caught herself, dragging the blanket tighter around her as if it could rewind time.

"I can’t go out there," she whispered, pacing in a tight, panicked circle in the bathroom. "I can’t. I won’t. I’ll die."

But she needed to escape. Not only because she was starving, but because she had to completely stay away from Hades.

For so many reasons now.

She peeked out into the room. Nothing. No luggage. No change of clothes.

Her eyes darted to the closet. Of course. He must keep something there. She tiptoed to it and tugged open the double doors.

Empty.

Like, disturbingly empty.

Not a sock. Not a sleeve. Not even a forgotten hanger. It was like no soul had ever stayed here. No warmth. No clutter. Just pristine, untouched stillness.

Her only option left was her dress from last night.

She went back to the bathroom and warily picked it up from the basket. Wrinkled and even a little damp.

She slipped it on.

It clung to her in all the wrong ways. The zipper was stuck halfway. The fabric had lost its shape. And she had to perform a humiliating back shimmy just to get it over her hips. Her hair was a mess. Her cheeks were still blotchy. Her eye makeup gave her the haunted look of a raccoon who’d seen war.

But she was dressed. Technically.

And now came the hardest part.

Escape.

She paced the room once. Then again. Then a third time. Her brain spun with the most stealthy, avoidant, least-humiliating exit strategy in the history of exits.

"I just need to get out. Quietly. No eye contact. No talking. No existing."

She paused at the door.

Her fingers hovered over the knob.

And with the exaggerated caution of a squirrel crossing a freeway, she slowly cracked it open, peeking into the hallway like a cartoon raccoon casing a suburban kitchen.

The coast was... clear.

She would escape him forever.

That was the plan.

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