The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 53: Sick

Alice sat on the edge of her bed, her head pounding, skin flushed and damp with sweat. She could feel it building — that familiar heaviness behind her eyes, the ache in her bones, and the heat rising unnaturally from within.

She was getting sick.

The fever was coming fast, already making her limbs feel heavy and clumsy. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and winced. Burning. Wonderful.

She had barely eaten anything today. Not like whatever she had on her fridge was... reasonable anyway.

But that shower. She suspected it was the cold shower she had taken to wash dream Hades off of her.

But despite that, she busy. Her phone was in hand as she patiently or rather impatiently waited for Priscilla to text her back. She wasn’t.

Alice clenched her jaw, rapidly typing another text to Priscilla.

’If you don’t respond in five minutes, I swear to God, Priscilla, I’ll call. If you don’t pick up, I’ll find you myself.’

Her thumbs hovered. She hit send.

’I need to know how she is!’

She hit the send button again.

Maybe it was the sickness that was making her impatient and irritated. But she was beginning to very worried about not being able to reach Paula whenever she wanted.

Her phone finally buzzed and she looked at it immediately. Finally. A text from the woman. But then, the message made her frown.

’Check the news. 253’

Alice cursed under her breath. That was it?

She didn’t even like watching the news — endless garbage filled with corporate fluff that never benefitted the North — but at this point, she had no choice.

She reached for the remote with shaky fingers, her head still swimming under the fever’s pressure, and turned on the flat-screen. Channel 253.

A sharp, well-groomed anchor appeared immediately, with the bold headline running across the screen:

’MALAY CORPORATION SURGE CONTINUES AS STOCKS BREAK NEW RECORDS.’

Blah, blah. Same self-congratulatory nonsense. A bold picture of Priscilla was on screen. There were also charts and graphs with red and blue lines. There was also a discussion about their reputation and how they recently just won a big case.

As she was wondering what she was supposed to do with this news, her suite rang, followed by sharp, impatient knocks.

"Second Lady! Open the door."

Betty.

Again.

Good Lord.

Alice ignored her, eyes still glued to the screen, trying to make sense of the business gibberish and why Priscilla felt it was important. The headache throbbed behind her eyes. She heard the knock again — harder this time — and then the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open. Betty had used a spare key.

Alice turned sharply, her heart beat skyrocketing before she remembered first that she was wearing concealer to hide her freckles. She quickly took off her glasses, hiding it under the duvet.

Betty stormed in, finding her way directly to the bedroom, arms crossed, glaring like an old governess. "Kitchen duty. Now."

Didn’t Hades’s threat sink in last night?

What was wrong with these people?

No privacy?

"I’m not doing it." Alice’s voice was low, but dangerous.

"You think because you’re special you can ignore house rules? Your duty was assigned to you by the Matriarch herself. You don’t have an option! Do you know how many times someone else have to do your duty if you lazy about in here and watch the TV?"

"Do you know how many times I haven’t cared?" Alice shot back, standing up abruptly. The sudden motion made her sway slightly, but she caught herself before Betty could see the full effect.

Alice pointed to the door. "Get out!"

"What?" Betty looked surprised like she could not believe her audacity. Which truly was also surprising for Alice.

Because this lady had guts.

Alice snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "Go fuck off somewhere."

Betty’s mouth fell open, caught between anger and shock.

Before the fight could escalate, Alice’s phone buzzed again.

She snapped her head back toward it, half-expecting Priscilla finally replying.

Instead, it was short. Cold.

’It’s turning out great. Keep doing a great job. You will get all you want. Talk in due time.’

Alice nearly threw the phone.

Her blood boiled. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Paula could be dead for all she knew and Priscilla was playing this game.

She wouldn’t hurt Pauline. She believed so. Right. Right?

Alice looked up to still see Betty standing there, glaring at her.

"I swear to God, Betty..." Alice took a step forward, her voice rising, "if you don’t get out right now, we are going to start pulling each other’s hairs."

She could see how red Betty’s face had gotten from anger. But she could only swallow whatever she felt as she turned to leave the suit.

"And if you enter my place again without permission, I’ll get nasty." Alice left her with one more warning just as Betty stepped out and closed the main door with a bang that made Alice wince, as her head throbbed.

Alice fell back on the bed, cradling her head.

She could not afford to be sick tonight.

Not tonight.

She was also worried about meeting Hardy.

Then Hades too.

And then everyone that would be there.

She didn’t need this kind of fragile state.

The anchor’s voice droned on in the background, and just when Alice was about to turn it off, the screen switched:

EXCLUSIVE: DAWIN WILDFIRE INTERVIEW.

She paused, despite herself.

There he was — Dawin. Impeccably dressed as always in one of his dull, perfect suits, sitting across from a smiling interviewer. His expression calm, as usual, his smile polite but never warm.

It felt a certain kind of strange way to Alice. Because suddenly, it hit her that she now knew people who were on TV. Wildfire. Malay. And others she must have met casually in this estate. There was also Hardy. When she searched him online, there were news with him there too.

The interviewer leaned forward eagerly, her gaze fixed on Dawin.

"Mr. Wildfire, there have been strong speculations that you might forgo your inheritance to pursue full-time politics. Do you plan to enter Congress officially next term?"

Dawin’s response was smooth, almost rehearsed.

"I believe in public service where my expertise is needed. Whether that’s in business or politics depends on the circumstances. For now, my obligations remain balanced between both."

Boring. Predictable.

The interviewer chuckled, trying to probe deeper.

"Would it be fair to say you’re... considering it very seriously?"

Dawin smiled, that exact calculated angle of his lips that always irritated Alice.

"I consider many things seriously. But for now, I serve where I am most effective."

Alice rolled her eyes.

’God, you’re insufferable,’ she thought bitterly.

But then the conversation shifted.

"What about your personal life?" the host asked. "There’s been a lot of interest — marriage? Any lucky woman? Your ideal type?"

Dawin’s eyes narrowed faintly — a flicker, barely noticeable to anyone else — but Alice caught it immediately. Was it because she had been in close proximity with him lately?

"My private life is not for public entertainment," he said, smooth as silk. "But rest assured, when the time comes, I’ll make the appropriate decisions with my family’s interests in mind."

How romantic. Alice snorted.

But then—

"And your brothers?" the interviewer pushed on.

Against her will, Alice’s ears perked up.

"There have been various rumors regarding your family’s structure. Some reports even claim your second brother might have been adopted. Is there any truth to that?"

Alice froze.

Ad-opted?

Her fever-fogged brain sharpened like ice. She sat up straighter.

Hades?

Dawin barely blinked. His smile never wavered.

"My brothers are my brothers," he said simply. "Our bonds are not defined by blood or rumor. The Wildfire family stands unified — and that’s all that matters."

The interviewer laughed, letting it go, but Alice couldn’t. She gripped the remote tighter, eyes locked on the screen long after the interview shifted to another topic.

Adopted?

How had she never heard this before?

The pieces started shifting rapidly inside her head. Questions multiplying.

And now, a lot of things made sense.

Made perfect sense.

If she had been a little observant, maybe she would have known. His interaction with the family, how he was isolated, away for 10 years, just... different.

But she hadn’t really been concerned about this family or Hades. She only wanted to live quietly until she was out of here, yet, she had been given none of that chance to do so.

Did Priscilla also know about this?

Hades.

Her phone began to ring, startling her. She looked down quickly, expecting a call from Priscilla but remembering it was her alarm tone. She was supposed to be getting ready now. Because Hades would be picking her up in an hour.

Damn it.

She really didn’t want to meet him. Especially after the dream she had. And now that she was sick, she wanted to not deal with him.

She didn’t want to leave her room. She didn’t want to meet Hardy either.

But for some strange reason... she also wanted to see Hades.

I mean, they had a lot of unfinished conversation so that was only normal. Right?

Right?

(Bro, I don’t know. Stop asking me!)