Chapter 141

The church on the outskirts was quiet and empty. Hardly any guests had been invited. Maybe that was why Laila had been called at all—but even so, she didn’t like it.

Even if it was outside the city center, it was still within Redamas’s walls. Who knew who might see her? She couldn’t exactly show up to a wedding disguised as an old crone.

“Florence may have insisted, but they should’ve stopped her.”

Though if she was honest, she doubted even she could have stopped her. And here she was, grumbling, but still unable to ignore the invitation. She had come anyway.

Still, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d at least cursed out that shameless man to his face.

The first to spot her sharp, deadly expression as she entered was Keith.
“Hey, Lai—”
“What.”
“…You here to kill someone?”
“There is one bastard I’d like to kill.”
“Leave my brother out of it.”
“I never said it was him. Where is he?”
“So it is Enoch. Calm down.”
“I’m perfectly calm. Not excited at all.”

She even smiled brightly to prove it. Laila’s beauty was dazzling—light brown hair, pretty violet eyes, delicate features. Her round lips glowed red, and her large eyes and slim nose gave her a girlish look. At first glance, she even resembled a rabbit. But anyone fooled by that face would die with their eyes wide open.

Her slender frame was corded with muscle, her back, arms, and thighs marked with old scars. And in those violet eyes, beneath the smiling curve, lived killing intent.

“Liar.”
“Where is he?”
“Promise you won’t hit him.”
“…Really?”

Laila gave him a pitying look.
“What have you even been doing, letting it get this far?”
“What was I supposed to stop?”
“The wedding. It’s too soon.”
“…Florence is twenty-eight, you know.”
“I know. I’ve been with her longer than you.”
“Then you know she’s past the usual marrying age.”
“You have to subtract five years. She’s twenty-three.”
“…That’s not how age works.”
“Where is he?”

There was no winning this. Keith tried redirecting her.
“Shouldn’t you see Florence first?”

“….”

“If she finds out you went straight for Enoch, she’ll be mad.”
“Not if you keep your mouth shut.”
“Even if I did, one look at his face after you hit him and she’ll know. If you think you can resist punching him, fine. But otherwise—see Florence first.”

Keith sighed.
“She’s waiting in the bridal room. Alone.”
“Why leave her by herself?”
He exhaled a laugh.
“Funny, coming from someone who never answered her letters—and now calls her a kid. A twenty-eight-year-old kid.”

“Shut up.”
“Anyway, I’m family of the groom.”
“Then she should’ve had family of her own here.”
“That’s why you’re here.”

Laila frowned. True enough—Florence had no family to stand by her. Parents were gone, Grace was in an asylum, Blake a disgrace. Even the Ingrams couldn’t really be called kin without Grace. Enoch had Keith. Florence had no one.

“…You should’ve said that first.”
“Bridal room’s this way.”
“I know.”

Laila strode off. She was dressed much the same as she’d been at Marie’s funeral a year ago—dark, somber. Too dull for a wedding, maybe. She hesitated, then plucked a flower from the hallway decorations and pinned it to her chest before opening the door.

Inside, Florence was finishing her makeup. The attendant jumped at Laila’s sudden entrance, but Florence remained calm—as if she’d known she would come.

Laila tapped the doorframe. Florence slowly lifted her gaze.

“Laila. You came.”
“…Suddenly getting married—I couldn’t just not come.”
“Three hundred forty-eight days without a single letter.”
“You counted?”
“Should I get married every time I want to see you?”
“The ceremony hasn’t even started and you’re already planning the next one? What about this husband?”
“I’ll divorce and remarry?”
“Try it. Could be fun.”

Florence’s face was far too serious, already thinking through how to ask for a divorce. Laila cut her off.
“Doesn’t count if it’s with the same man.”
“So pretending wouldn’t work either?”
“No.”

Laila sighed and smiled faintly.
“Never mind. It’s been a while—tell me how you ended up marrying at all.”
“Well… it just kind of happened.”

“That ‘just kind of happened,’” Laila said sweetly, “explain it properly.”

So it was Enoch’s fault. Seduced her, tricked her, and now a wedding. She was definitely going to kill him.

Florence muttered, “He said he wouldn’t touch me until we were married.”
“….”
“I even tried to steal a kiss first, but…”
“….”
“He scolded me for an hour about propriety, saying those things are only for marriage.”

Laila blinked. Maybe she wouldn’t kill him after all.

She looked at Florence, all complaints and sighs, and thought:

“Yes. She’s a cub after all… all teeth and claws, no matter how often she cries.”

Florence was relentless. That was why she had survived Hyunji. And now, even that overly fastidious man Enoch Hains had no choice but to deal with her.

Florence added, “He said since both of us only have one family member each, there was no need for a grand ceremony. Just something simple. The divorce with Linus was finalized long ago—we could’ve done this anytime, but we kept delaying until today.”

“…I see.”

Laila decided to spare Enoch’s life.

Family. That word didn’t feel strange anymore. For Florence, her family was Laila. For Enoch, it was Keith. And that was enough.

“Do I look okay, Laila?”

Florence lifted her skirts and spun. Brown hair woven with purple blossoms, pearl earrings catching the light, lace hiding her scars, silk skirts flaring around her narrow waist.

“Beautiful.”
“I know, right?”

She explained how long it had taken to choose the jewelry, how Keith had fussed more than she had. Laila admitted his taste wasn’t bad.

“And you look happy,” Laila added.

Florence’s eyes shone. She had once said she wanted happiness. Laila reminded her not to forget.

Florence smiled.
“You too, Laila. You look happy.”

Laila only nodded. Saying because you’re happy would have been too embarrassing.

Finally, she told her:

“If you ever stop liking your husband, tell me. I’ll kill him for you.”

Florence burst out laughing. She thought it was a joke. But Laila wasn’t joking.