Chapter 157
Henry gritted his teeth. "Fine. You can have it all."
David nodded and signaled for his men to take Henry aside to wait.
Henry stood there, watching all those impeccably dressed guests file in one after another, envy and resentment tangling in his chest.
Once, he had been one of them. Once, he had stood right at the center of power. Now, he did not even have the right to walk through the door.
But it was okay. He told himself that as long as he could see Elizabeth, everything would work out.
Elizabeth was soft-hearted, always sentimental about old ties.
If he begged her properly, she would definitely help him.
He waited for more than an hour.
The wedding started.
Music floated out from the estate, mellow and elegant, mixed with the applause and cheers of the guests. Henry paced outside, so anxious he felt like he was going in circles.
At last, David came out.
"Let's go," he said calmly.
Henry's heart leaped. He hurried to follow. David led him past the main entrance and down a narrow, rarely used path.
The farther they went, the more remote it became. The manicured gardens gave way to trees, and the trees thinned into a scrubby stretch of weeds and wild grass. A prickle of unease crept up Henry's spine.
"David, where are we going?"
"Taking you inside."
"But this isn't—"
"This is the back door." David didn't even look back. "Didn't you want to go in? Quit whining."
Henry shut his mouth and kept walking behind him. After another ten minutes or so, a run‑down little building came into view ahead.
It looked like an abandoned servants' quarters belonging to the estate, doors and windows shuttered, wild grass choking the steps and walls.
Henry stopped short, his face draining. "David, you lied to me?"
David turned and looked at him.
In his eyes, there was only a steady, bone‑deep coldness that made Henry's back go numb.
"Henry, did you really think I'd take you inside?"
Henry went completely white. "You… what are you going to do?"
David didn't answer. He simply lifted his hand and clapped twice. A few men walked out of the little building, all of them belonged to Nightfall. Each carrying ropes and tools.
Henry turned around and ran, but he had barely gone a few steps before he was forced to the ground.
He struggled with everything he had, his voice tearing as he shouted, "David! I'm your brother! You can't do this to me!"
David walked over, crouched down, and met his eyes.
"Brother?" He said quietly. "You still remember you're my brother? All these years, how many things have you stolen from me? Our father's affection, the family's resources, everyone's attention—anything you wanted, you took. You stripped me of everything, and it never once occurred to you to feel guilty."
Henry opened his mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out.
David stood and looked at his men. "Do it."
Screams echoed through the tangle of weeds and tall grass, but no one heard them. The wedding music was too loud, the guests' cheers and laughter swallowed everything.
When Henry woke again, he realized he could no longer move.
He was not tied down. He truly could not move. His hands and feet were gone, the stumps bandaged with clinical precision by someone who clearly knew what they were doing. His tongue was gone as well; his mouth felt hollow and strange, and he could only make thick, garbled sounds.
He tried to scream, but no sound came. He tried to struggle, but he did not have the strength to move even a single finger.
They had put him inside a life‑size puppet.
It was a full‑scale human‑sized figure dressed in lavish formalwear, its face painted with intricate makeup.
He had been stuffed inside the hollow shell, his remaining limbs fixed into the puppet's arms and legs, his mouth lined up with the puppet's painted lips.
From the outside, it was nothing but a beautifully crafted doll. No one would guess there was a living man inside.
David stood in front of the puppet, examining it carefully, then nodded in satisfaction.
"This is the wedding present I prepared for Ms. Windsor," he said to the men beside him. "Send it to the reception hall and set it in the most prominent spot."
One of his men hesitated. "Mr. Aiden, isn't this going a little too far?"
David glanced at him, his tone flat. "What he owes Ms. Windsor, he couldn't repay in this lifetime. This is just the interest."
The man fell silent. They lifted the puppet and started toward the reception hall.
Sealed inside the puppet, Henry listened to the drift of music, the ripples of laughter, the murmured blessings. Tears slid from his eyes without a sound.
He was so close to Elizabeth—only a few dozen yards away. And yet he would never see her again.
Inside the reception hall, the lights were dazzling.
Hundreds of guests had gathered. The puppet had been placed in the most eye‑catching spot—at the very end of the aisle, directly facing the altar. As the guests walked past, they could not help glancing at it, offering little exclamations of admiration—how exquisite, how lifelike.
No one knew there was a person inside.
The music swelled.
Everyone rose, turning to look toward the other end of the aisle.
Elizabeth stood there.
She wore that dreamlike wedding gown, the veil over her hair drifting gently in the breeze from the open doors. She held a bouquet of white roses, petals still jewelled with drops of dew. A faint smile curved her lips, a smile that held happiness and ease, and also a quiet composure born from everything she had endured.
Step by step, she walked down the aisle.
Jacob waited at the other end, watching her.
From the moment she appeared, his gaze had never left her. He watched the woman he had waited for so long and guarded for so long, watched her come toward him, one deliberate step at a time.
Every step felt like it landed right on his heart.
At last, she reached him.
Jacob extended his hand and took hers. Her fingers were a little cool, yet to him they brought a warmth he had never known.
"Elizabeth," he murmured, "you're gorgeous."
Elizabeth lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
In those deep, dark eyes, she saw her own reflection, the glow of the chandeliers, and every storm they had weathered together.
"You look handsome too," she said softly.
Jacob smiled. He laced his fingers tighter through hers and turned to face the officiant.
The minister began to recite the vows.
"Do you take Elizabeth to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love her, honor her, and protect her, until death parts you?"
Jacob looked at Elizabeth and answered, enunciating each word, "I do."
The minister turned to Elizabeth. "And do you take Jacob to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love him, honor him, and be faithful to him, until death parts you?"
Elizabeth looked at Jacob, at the open, unguarded love and anticipation in his gaze, and all at once a flood of memories rose up.
She remembered the night they first met, the moment he pulled her out of Henry's hands, the crazed way he held her in that filthy service tunnel, the way he stood in the firelight and told her he loved her.
She smiled, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I do."
Applause thundered through the hall.
Jacob cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.
In that moment, all the grudges and feuds, all the storms and scars, melted into that single kiss.
Down below the altar, the puppet stood motionless. Hidden in the darkness inside, Henry listened to the roar of cheers and clapping, tears leaking silently from his eyes.
He was so close to her, close enough to hear her voice. And he would never see her again.
David stood in a shadowed corner, watching the couple on the stage. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He lifted his glass and angled it slightly in Elizabeth's direction. "Congratulations on your wedding, Ms. Windsor."
Just as peace and happiness seemed to settle over the hall, chaos struck.
The sound of rotors grew from a distant hum to a deafening roar, helicopter blades grinding over the estate's calm like a storm tearing open the sky.