Chapter 1
On my wedding day, my husband jumped into a lake to save another woman.
The guests looked at me as if I were a joke.
I stood in the wedding hall for six hours until the excitement wore off and the place started to feel quiet.
My father arrived.
He didn't look at anyone. He simply took my hand and said, "Come on, my daughter. Let's go home."
I went back exactly the way I came.
That night, the General returned, soaked and dripping, staring blankly at the quiet room.
I heard he waited outside my home all night.
My father only sent out one message. "Want to marry my daughter? Not a chance."
*****
The room was brightly lit.
It was dead quiet, like time had frozen. The jewelry around my neck was so heavy that it made my neck ache.
The hall fell silent. It was a suffocating silence, soaked in malice and barely hidden delight.
I could hear the guests whispering under their breath, the sound buzzing around my ears.
"It's been six hours. Why hasn't General Ashford come back yet?"
"Seriously? He ditched his own wedding for some random woman. This is a huge humiliation."
"Exactly. Look at how grand this wedding was, only for the groom to disappear."
I stood there without moving.
I could barely feel my body anymore, but my ears refused to let a single cruel word slip by.
Today was supposed to be our wedding day, Henry Ashford and me.
It should have been.
Just two hours ago, the ceremony had been underway, lively music filling the entire house.
Just then, a servant rushed in, stumbling as he ran, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "General Ashford, something is wrong. Miss Lakewood fell into the lake out back."
I felt Henry tense up immediately.
He didn't turn back to look at me, not even for a moment.
All I saw was him rushing out, so fast that my eyes could barely follow.
He took all the joy in the room with him, and my dignity, too.
Vivian Lakewood was someone he grew up with, a distant cousin who had been living with the Ashford family.
She always wore white, spoke in a gentle voice, and looked like she could faint at any moment.
She claimed she had been frail since childhood, unable to handle wind, sunlight, or speak too loudly.
However, just before Henry rushed out, I saw her clearly through my veil.
She was standing in a corner, looking right at me over the heads of the guests.
There was nothing weak about her expression, just a cold, smug look. Then she turned and walked toward the back.
Soon after that, the news spread that she had fallen into the lake.
The guests went from shock, to whispering, to openly watching like this was entertainment.
Henry's mother, Melissa Ashford, finally lost her patience. She walked over, her tone irritated and biting.
She said, "Leona, I know you'll understand. Vivian has always been fragile, and this happened because she hurried here for your wedding. Henry did what he was supposed to do.
"Why are you just standing there? You're embarrassing yourself."
I didn't say a word. It felt as if something was lodged in my throat, leaving me unable to speak.
Understand? Was I expected to understand my husband leaving me at our own wedding to save another woman?
He risked everything for someone else, while I stood there like a fool, taking everyone's judgment and ridicule.
Was this my fault?
"Go take a seat. Do you seriously expect Henry to come back for you?" Her tone grew even harsher when she saw me remain silent.
She said, "Drop the attitude. You're not the Sinclair family's heiress. You're an Ashford now, and you play by Ashford rules."
Rules? That was new.
My father taught me manners and rules from the time I was young. Eighteen years of that, and it all got ripped apart on my wedding day.
I clenched my dress so tightly that my nails cut into flesh.
I couldn't let myself collapse. The Sinclair family's heiress couldn't fall apart now.
After a long while, half the guests had left. Those who remained were only waiting for the outcome, hoping to witness the full spectacle.
Melissa went back to her room, saying on her way out that I was just too stubborn.
The hall was left with only me and the extravagant gifts, now heavy with irony.
The gift boxes were stacked high, each marked with words of blessing.
Every gift had been prepared by my mother while she was still alive. She said I should marry with pride, with a confidence no one could take from me.
How could I be confident now?
Just when I felt like I couldn't hold on anymore, there was a commotion at the door.
It wasn't Henry.
My heart, already numb, didn't react at all.
I heard the sound of gear clinking, heavy footsteps coming closer.
The crowd split to make way.
Someone walked in, backlit by the doorway.
He stood there in a perfectly pressed uniform, the badge on his chest declaring his authority without a word.
His hair was perfectly styled, the gray strands shining under the lights. His face, stern by nature, showed no expression at all.
It was my father, the current Royal Tutor, Edward Sinclair.
He ignored the shocked guests, the mess on the floor, and even the empty seat meant for the groom.
From the moment he stepped inside, his eyes found me.
He walked past the crowd, past the looks and whispers, straight to me.
The hall fell into a stillness like calm water. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see how he would respond.
Would he scold me for being improper, or would he swallow his pride and smooth things over for the Ashford family?
To everyone's surprise, my father said nothing.
He simply raised his hand, the same hand that taught me to write, to play chess, and to command countless subordinates, and gently took hold of mine.
In that moment, the tears I had held back for hours finally fell.
I looked up and met my father's eyes.
There was no blame there, no disappointment, only pain for me.
"Sweetheart," he said, his voice as steady as ever, but with a rough edge I'd never heard before. "Come on, let's go home."
That single sentence carried more weight than a thousand explanations. I could no longer hold back, and my tears spilled freely.
He said nothing more. Turning to the security he had brought with him, he gave his second order, his voice calm but unmistakably clear. "Take all the gifts. Every one of them."
"Got it." The security team moved together, fast and efficient, carrying the gift boxes out one after another.
The guests were left absolutely dumbfounded.
This was not an attempt to end the evening gracefully. It was a statement, harsher than publicly humiliating the groom's family.
He was making it clear to all of Portiz that the Sinclair family's heiress had unilaterally called off the wedding.
I followed my father, step by step, toward the exit.
The second I stepped outside, I stood up straight again.
The wind dried my tears and cleared away whatever hope I still had for Henry.
I had come full of happiness and left with just as much despair. The decorations lining the road felt like an open wound across Portiz that evening.