“Ah!”
Grace landed hard on the wedding quilt, the impact feeling like it had rearranged her internal organs.
Before she could even react, Calder was on top of her.
He tore at the collar of her dress, and the fabric ripped with a harsh sound.
“Get off! Don’t touch me!”
Grace struggled with all her might, her nails scratching a bloody line down Calder’s face.
But this only seemed to excite him more.
“What’s with the act?!”
“You’re secondhand goods, so stop pretending to be so pure!”
“You should be grateful I don’t mind that you’ve been with another man!”
Calder pinned Grace’s neck with one hand while fumbling with his belt with the other.
A tide of suffocation washed over her.
Calder’s twisted, snarling face swam in and out of her vision.
“You ungrateful bitch!”
“I could kill you today and no one would ever know!”
Grace clawed at him wildly, but her nails were broken and had no effect.
In that moment, the image that flashed through her mind wasn’t of death or fear.
It was Damien.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Just as her consciousness was about to completely fade, a series of frantic knocks echoed from the door.
The horns and firecrackers outside had stopped at some point.
Calder froze, the pressure on her throat easing slightly.
Grace coughed violently, gulping in desperate breaths of air.
“Who is it?!” Calder roared, furious. He assumed it was one of the drunk villagers trying to mess with him.
“Can’t you hear I’m busy?!”
His threat didn’t stop the person outside; the knocking only grew more urgent.
He climbed off Grace, muttering curses as he did up his belt and stomped toward the door.
“Is that you, James?”

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