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The Heiress Who Cancelled Her Own Wedding
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
On our wedding day, Rebecca Henson quietly stirred sugar into the plain water I was to toast with, and set off a sudden bout of diabetic ketoacidosis in me. Before I died, lying in the emergency room,...
Chương (4)
第1章
1: 1
On our wedding day, Rebecca Henson quietly stirred sugar into the plain water I was to toast with, and set off a sudden bout of diabetic ketoacidosis in me.
Before I died, lying in the emergency room, what filled my ears was my parents' sobbing and their demands for an answer:
"Kaykay has type 1 diabetes! How could anyone put sugar in her water? You were trying to kill her!"
Rebecca just sneered, unbothered.
"Sugar in plain water, for a little luck. The experts all say obsessive sugar control is a mistake. It was one spoonful. If she couldn't handle it, that's her own weak constitution."
Then came Patrick Gilbert's voice, taking her side.
"Becky studied medicine. She obviously knows more than any of you. And if Kayla Pruitt really doesn't pull through, I'll return the banquet and the bride price and call it my bad luck."
My parents were driven to death by pure rage.
That day, all three of us died in the emergency room.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the middle of a crowd of relatives and friends, about to go around and offer the wedding toasts.
And in my hand was that very cup of "love" plain water.
Patrick urged me under his breath.
"What are you standing there for? The elders are all waiting for you to toast them and hand out the red envelopes."
Beside me, Rebecca's eyes were smiling, dimples deep in her cheeks.
The suffocation surged back all at once. There was still time.
I hurled the toast cup and the pitcher to the floor with everything I had.
......
Patrick's face darkened. He lowered his voice against my ear.
"It's the happiest day of our lives, with this many elders here. If you want to throw a fit, at least pick the moment!"
I lifted my hand and pointed straight at Rebecca.
"She put sugar in my water."
Patrick stalled, then waved me off.
"That's all this is about? Becky added one spoonful. There's no need to blow it up. On our honeymoon I'll take you to that concert, your favorite idol, the one you love."
Rebecca, all gentleness and concern, turned to call a server over to clear the shards, her voice soft.
"Pat, it's our wedding day. Don't be angry with Kaykay over this."
That "Pat" stung something raw in my chest, and it sharpened me instead.
Patrick called me Kayla and called Rebecca "Becky."
I'd fussed at him to call me Kaykay.
He said, "I've called you the same thing for over twenty years. Switching all of a sudden feels strange."
Then I wanted to call him "Pat," the way Rebecca did.
He said again, "No way. That's way too sappy."
Thinking of it now, I couldn't help a small scoff. Where his heart lay had shown itself a long time ago.
Seeing me laugh, Patrick took it as me giving in after my little outburst, and slid an arm around my shoulders.
"All right, all right. I'll be the bigger man and forgive you. Just apologize to everyone and to Becky, and we'll get a fresh pitcher and carry on."
Apologize?
He ignored my body, went after my life, and now he wanted me to apologize?
I wrenched out of his hold, disgust all over my face.
"Keep your generosity. I don't want it."
Called out in front of everyone, Patrick choked on the words, his face going stiff and mortified in an instant.
And Rebecca, on reflex, glanced around at the crowd, her eyes reddening as she bowed her head to coax me.
"Kaykay, don't read into it. Sugar in plain water, so love turns sweet and lasts. I only wanted a good omen."
The relatives around us turned to look, and a low buzz of talk started up, some confused, some just there for the show.
"Plain water for the toast is one thing, but a spoonful of sugar for luck isn't allowed either? This bride has a fierce temper."
"Smashing things on the happiest day, throwing a scene before the ceremony's even done. How can she not know better?"
"Probably a spat before the wedding, and now she's picking on her own foster sister on purpose."
Someone even took out a phone and started filming.
Patrick heard the gossip, and with me having stripped his face bare, his expression turned worse still.
"With this many guests here today, you're set on leaving me no way to save face, is that it?"
Rebecca, standing to the side, only got more into it, tears swimming in her eyes, the picture of wronged innocence.
She apologized to me while holding on to Patrick's sleeve.
"I'm sorry, Kaykay. It's all my fault for meddling. I shouldn't have added sugar without thinking. Don't ruin the wedding because of me."
Then, in a playful lilt, she teased,
"I really do hope you and Pat are happy and in love, so all I ever have to give is a gift envelope!"
With that she laughed through her tears, and lifted her eyes shyly to Patrick.
The tenderness in her eyes was impossible to hide.
She hoped I'd be happy and in love?
While after my death, she took my family's Pruitt money and lived openly with Patrick, the two of them together.
I have type 1 diabetes. I have to control my sugar, watch for emergencies, at any moment it could set off a crisis.
Rebecca had known all of this clearly from the day I was diagnosed at ten.
She wasn't meddling by accident. She wanted me dead.
Patrick always fell for this act of hers. In a heartbeat Rebecca's charm coaxed him into a laugh, his face easing.
He reached over to pat the top of my head, scolding lightly.
"Look at Becky. She's the one who got hurt here, and she's still speaking up for you. Stop making a scene like this, or there's simply no way to hold this wedding."
The moment he said it, everyone read her as the well-meaning one whose kindness went wrong, generous and forgiving.
And me as the difficult, willful one who didn't understand how people worked.
Before all this, I'd have taken the easy way down and smoothed things over myself.
But now, the searing pain of dying in my last life, my parents' hopeless sobbing, swept through my head all at once, and my heart twisted like a knife.
At the edge of my sight I caught Rebecca's slender fingers, wearing a wedding ring exactly like mine.
"You like Patrick this much, so just marry him. Then you won't have to give a single cent of a gift."
I flung his hand off and stepped back, tugged the corner of my mouth into something cold, and looked him dead in the eye.
"You said there's no way to hold this wedding? Good. The wedding's off."
第2章
2: 2
The whole room broke into an uproar.
It drowned out the wedding music, every guest turning to stare at us in shock.
Patrick's pupils shrank. The stunned look crossed his face and vanished, his brows knotting tight.
He dropped his voice and ground the words out through his teeth:
"Kayla! You've gone too far!"
I've gone too far?
Rebecca Henson was the orphaned daughter of my father's comrade, a child my parents doted on from the time she was small, raised so close to me we practically wore the same clothes.
My parents were softhearted and loyal to old bonds, and out of respect for a fallen hero they spoiled her more than their own daughter, telling everyone she was my adopted sister.
Years ago my father had thrown himself in front of a falling boulder on the mountain to save her, snapping a leg in the process. He'd lived on a cane ever since, his health worse with every passing year.
Even in the family's hardest times, she never went without.
Whatever I had, she had too, and always a little more.
My parents used to say it all the time: "Kayla, you're an only child. When we're gone, you and Rebecca have to look after each other."
In my last life, it was her disappointment in them that broke my parents' hearts, the grief and rage that ground them down until they died.
After we were gone, she took up with Patrick at once and walked off with everything the family owned.
A rushed voice cut sharply through my thoughts.
It was my mother, shoving through the crowd, hurrying toward me at a run.
She forced her way through, rushed to my side, and gripped my hands, looking me up and down again and again, her eyes full of dread at what might have happened.
"Kayla, are you all right?"
My father came behind her, his face dark, leaning on his cane as he made his slow way over.
His gaze dropped to the puddle and the shattered pieces on the floor. He said nothing, his eyes unreadable.
I was sick, and my parents had always hoped someone would treat me well, take care of me.
So they raised Patrick up at every turn, stepped back to clear his path, and poured more than half of the Pruitt family's resources into him.
The moment Patrick saw my parents arrive, he threw his shoulders back.
"Uncle Douglas Pruitt, Mrs. Pruitt, look at Kayla. She's using her illness as an excuse. This is disgraceful!"
"Don't be so quick to change your tune. How is Kayla being disgraceful?" my father said, his voice low and hard, coming out slow.
Patrick faltered, then dodged the real question and pushed every fault onto me.
Rebecca stood at his side, her earlobes flushed red, her eyes rimmed with red, tears welling as she bowed her head, the very picture of a girl being bullied.
"Uncle Gilbert, I..."
My father pressed his lips together, waved a hand to cut Rebecca off, and turned slowly toward me.
His gaze settled on me, heavy, without a trace of a smile.
"Kayla, was it you who smashed the toast cup?"
My father loved me, but he'd always been strict, raising me to be generous with people, to know my manners and behave.
In my last life, the sound of my parents screaming my name filled my ears again. My heart skipped a beat, and my nose stung.
Afraid of upsetting him, I held tight to both my parents, kept my eyes down, and didn't dare say another word that might provoke him.
"I'll only ask you this. Are you certain you want to cancel the wedding?" His tone was firm.
The hall went dead silent.
Rebecca's lips curved slowly upward, her eyes bright with triumph, settling in to watch the show.
I didn't hesitate. I bit my lip and nodded hard.
"I'm certain."
"Good."
One word, clean and final.
My father's hand shot up, the cane in it sweeping out in a vicious arc.
The crisp crack of breaking glass burst across the room.
The champagne tower crashed to the floor, and every wine glass on the tables shattered at once.
Glass, shards of porcelain, and liquor sprayed everywhere.
"Then there will be no wedding."
After the dead silence, the whole room exploded.
Murmurs and sharp intakes of breath rose one after another, deafening.
Patrick went rigid where he stood, his pupils trembling.
"Douglas, what are you doing?!"
第3章
3: 3
At the back of the crowd, Fabian Gilbert stood in a crisp, tailored suit, his face dark as iron.
Layla Gilbert, her makeup flawless, pushed through the guests, impatience and anger simmering in her eyes.
One after the other, they walked straight up to us, tempers barely held in check.
"It's a joyous day. The young ones don't know better, but a man your age, joining in this nonsense?" Fabian forced his fury down.
Layla jumped in at once, wearing that lofty air of hers, her tone gentle but laced with veiled reproach:
"That's right! With so many friends, relatives, and honored elders here today, both families' reputations are on the line. Making a scene like this shames us both."
"Kayla's perfectly fine, so why keep clinging to some trivial little matter?"
My father held his back rigid, chest heaving, forcing down the rage boiling inside him, and pushed out a single low sentence:
"Then we can do without that reputation!"
Fabian's brows knit, his voice turning sharp all at once:
"Douglas Pruitt! I'm trying to reason with you, so don't be ungrateful! Over some petty little thing, you smash the tower in front of everyone and call off the wedding. Are you dead set on turning against the Gilbert family?"
"How has my son ever wronged your daughter? If it weren't for the Pruitt assets in your hands, letting her have her way and putting up with her every day, do you think a sickly girl would ever be good enough for my son?"
It clicked all at once.
Every bit of patience Patrick had shown my body and my little moods, it turned out, had a price tag on it.
My mother gripped my hand tight, her fingertips ice-cold, shaking with anger, and still she stayed planted in front of me.
My father broke into a violent fit of coughing he couldn't hold back, his stooped back trembling, and every cough tore at my heart.
My chest clenched. I patted his back gently, tried to steady my trembling mother, terror flooding my eyes.
The scene I feared most was playing out again, right in front of me.
Something flickered in Patrick's eyes, a trace of reluctance, and he leaned down close to me, his voice full of lecture:
"Kayla, don't turn some petty little thing into a full break with your elders. Just lower your head a bit, apologize, admit you were wrong, and I'll smooth it over. Don't leave both families embarrassed."
A petty little thing?
In his eyes, my life was worth so little it wasn't even worth mentioning.
I wasn't afraid of being humiliated, of being laughed at, of ruining the wedding.
I was only afraid of standing here and watching this family drive them to their deaths all over again, repeating the ruin of the last life, our whole family destroyed.
I swallowed the resentment and bitterness swelling inside me, my voice breaking:
"Dad, Mom, maybe we should just…"
Before I could finish, Layla cut me off.
She hadn't come to make peace. Instead she gave a contemptuous little laugh:
"Let me be honest. Our Patrick is a fine catch, and with a body like Kayla's, without Patrick she'd likely never find a family to marry into her whole life. You Pruitts shouldn't be so ungrateful."
More phone cameras around us swung toward us.
The two of them played off each other, certain my parents would crack under the pressure and cave for my sake.
My one act of stubbornness had turned the entire bride's side into a joke.
Rebecca Henson stood at Patrick's side, head bowed, weeping, and as she wept she nestled a little closer into his arms, a barely visible flicker of glee in her eyes.
She was watching the show.
My eyes were rimmed red. Afraid and furious both, I was so frantic the tears just kept falling.
Caught between advancing and retreating, two warm, strong hands closed firmly over mine at the same moment, holding me safely between them.
"Kaykay, nothing matters more than the lives of the three of us."
The words went off like a blast in my head, and every drop of blood in me froze at once.
I jerked my head up and stared, dazed, at my parents.
My parents had been reborn too.
第4章
4: 4
Following my gaze, Mom and Dad gave me a small nod.
"When you smashed that teapot just now, we already had it arranged."
Joy broke over me and the tears came, and I let go of every last worry.
To the Gilberts, the three of us standing together looked like surrender, like backing down, and their arrogance flared even higher.
Fabian stepped forward, his crisp suit lending him the air of someone looking down on us.
"Douglas Pruitt, I'll give you one last chance. Apologize in front of everyone right now, and the wedding goes ahead, and both families keep the peace."
I raised my eyes, not a ripple in them, and asked back coldly, "Or what?"
Fabian gave a scornful snort.
"Or, with the class you people have, don't even dream of holding your ground in business or in this circle again. Half the Pruitts' connections, resources, and projects are all in Patrick's hands now. Learn to read the room."
Layla stood there with a glass in hand, her face all mockery and disdain.
I heard him out, and instead of getting angry, a low laugh slipped out of me.
"The only reason Patrick got where he is today is that he's my fiancé, Kayla Pruitt's fiancé, my father's son-in-law!"
"Take away the Pruitts holding him up, and he's nothing."
At that, Layla's wrist jerked, and most of the blush-pink champagne in her glass sloshed over the rim.
Once the shock passed, her head snapped back, her shoulders shaking, and she burst out laughing.
"You mean it? A dying girl who can't even drink sugar water? Or that crippled old man of a father?"
Nearby, Rebecca watched, tears rolling down one after another, and gave Layla's sleeve a gentle tug.
"Auntie Gilbert, this is my fault. Please don't blame Kaykay, and please don't be hard on Uncle and Auntie Pruitt..."
The whole hall of guests sighed at that.
"The Gilberts really did take in a sweet, sensible girl who knows how to repay kindness."
Layla only cupped Rebecca's hand more fondly in hers, her gaze sweeping over me with contempt.
"Good girl. You're the only one with any sense. You and my Patrick, now that's a match made for each other."
She paused, then added in a low voice, pitched just loud enough for me and the people around me to hear.
"Look at Kayla, half-dead already. She probably hasn't got much time left."
Something twisted in my chest. I wasn't even dead yet, and they'd already settled on the next wife.
They'd forgotten, it seemed, that without the Pruitts they were nothing more than the men who drove Dad's car.
I lifted my hands and gave a few claps.
"Good. Very good. Then let me show you exactly who dies first!"
I reached into my pocket for my phone, ready to unlock it and have my secretary announce what I'd arranged.
But the next second, a vicious slap came whipping straight at my face.
The crack of it exploded across the wedding hall.
The force was stunning. Half my head rang all at once, my eardrum shuddering.
A hot, stinging burn spread across my cheek and raced up into my scalp.
My vision blurred and went black, the room spun, and I dropped hard onto the marble floor.
The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was my parents' anguished screams.
...
Patrick stood frozen where he was, staring at his own palm, still numb from the blow.
Rebecca held his hand and gasped softly, "Pat, does it hurt? Kaykay just doesn't know any better. It isn't your fault."
Patrick's throat worked as he forced down the panic and reassured himself. "Right. Kayla was in the wrong first."
In the space of a few seconds, he had his composure back.
He raised a hand and smoothly soothed the guests. "Everyone, eat, drink, enjoy yourselves. It's fine, it's all fine."
The instant those words left his mouth, the phone in his pocket buzzed violently.
Patrick took three calls.
With each one, his face went a shade paler, his limbs a degree stiffer.
By the time the third call ended, the blood in him had frozen solid, and he crashed down onto the shattered glass.