The Cursed Bride
Agatha Christie · Completed · 6.2k Words
Introduction
Over three years, I planned twelve weddings. Each one left me bleeding.
The first time: a runaway truck crashed into the bridal boutique, crushing my right leg.
The second time: the church ceiling collapsed during rehearsal, leaving me broken and bloodied.
The third time: poisoned champagne at the reception nearly killed me as I foamed at the mouth.
...
Manhattan's elite whispered that I was cursed.
But I still loved him desperately.
Until the thirteenth time. That bloody rainy night, three thugs cornered me in an alley and stabbed me seven times—two to the chest, three to the abdomen, two to the back. I lay dying in my own blood, yet somehow survived.
After I healed, I accidentally overheard Damian talking to his assistant.
"Mr. Thorne, she almost really died this time... Maybe we should stop? If your grandfather finds out..."
"We can't stop," Damian said wearily. "Her father saved my life. Grandfather is hell-bent on me marrying her. But DAMN IT, I love Selena, not her."
"As long as she won't give up, these accidents have to continue until she gets the message and leaves on her own."
I trembled as I touched the bandages covering my wounds, tears falling silently.
All these years, the man I desperately loved had been meticulously planning my death.
But he didn't know that this time, he really wouldn't have to marry me anymore.
Chapter 1
To marry Damian Thorne, I almost died thirteen times.
Over three years, I planned twelve weddings. Each one left me bleeding.
The first time: a runaway truck crashed into the bridal boutique, crushing my right leg.
The second time: the church ceiling collapsed during rehearsal, leaving me broken and bloodied.
The third time: poisoned champagne at the reception nearly killed me as I foamed at the mouth.
...
Manhattan's elite whispered that I was cursed.
But I still loved him desperately.
Until the thirteenth time. That bloody rainy night, three thugs cornered me in an alley and stabbed me seven times—two to the chest, three to the abdomen, two to the back. I lay dying in my own blood, yet somehow survived.
After I healed, I accidentally overheard Damian talking to his assistant.
"Mr. Thorne, she almost really died this time... Maybe we should stop? If your grandfather finds out..."
"We can't stop," Damian said wearily. "Her father saved my life. Grandfather is hell-bent on me marrying her. But DAMN IT, I love Selena, not her."
"As long as she won't give up, these accidents have to continue until she gets the message and leaves on her own."
I trembled as I touched the bandages covering my wounds, tears falling silently.
All these years, the man I desperately loved had been meticulously planning my death.
But he didn't know that this time, he really wouldn't have to marry me anymore.
Ivy's POV
I wiped away my tears. Instead of confronting him, I turned and made a phone call.
"Dr. Harrison, about those test results... I need to know the exact timeline."
Silence on the other end for several seconds.
"Ivy, I'm so sorry... The brain tumor has spread. You have a month at most."
One month.
I leaned against the cold wall, stunned for a moment, then inexplicably laughed.
Damian wanted me dead, but the cancer cells were more efficient than he was.
"Ivy?"
I turned. Damian stood in the study doorway.
"You look terrible." He frowned, studying me. "Are your wounds still not healed?"
I stared at him steadily. Before, I would have been moved to tears by this show of concern. Now, I only felt the irony.
Facing my silence, Damian grew impatient. "What now? Still throwing a tantrum about the wedding?"
"Nothing."
"About the wedding..." Damian paused, then said soothingly, "I know I've been putting it off lately, but you have to understand, I've been really busy. But don't worry, I won't shirk my responsibilities..."
"No rush." I cut him off coldly. "Anytime is fine."
Damian froze, surprise flashing in his eyes.
For three years, every time a wedding was "accidentally" interrupted, I would urgently reschedule. This was the first time I seemed so indifferent.
Before he could speak, a sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the staircase.
"Damian~ Where are you? I feel so dizzy..."
Selena Blake—Damian's childhood sweetheart, slowly descended the stairs, pale as a ghost. After her heart condition flared up three months ago, she'd moved into the Thorne mansion to "recuperate," becoming the real mistress of the house.
"Selena?" Damian immediately rushed to her. "What's wrong? Another episode?"
"Just low blood sugar..." Selena leaned weakly against him, then looked at me. "Ivy, you look quite haggard. Do your wounds still hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"Good to hear." Selena turned to Damian with a pout. "Damian, I'm craving strawberry tarts from Ladurée. The doctor said sweets are good for my condition... But today's the last day for the limited edition. There'll definitely be a long line. Could you have Ivy get them for me?"
I watched this performance with a blank expression. This scene had repeated countless times over the past three months. I was Damian's fiancée in name but essentially a high-end servant.
"Of course." Damian nodded without hesitation, then looked at me matter-of-factly. "Ivy, go to Ladurée."
"I'm busy."
The hallway fell silent.
"What did you say?" Damian's eyes narrowed.
"I said I'm busy."
"What could you possibly have that's so important?" Damian's face darkened as he stepped closer. "Ivy, are you throwing a tantrum? Because of the wedding?"
"I'm not throwing a tantrum."
"Then go." Damian commanded. "Selena isn't well. You won't even do this small favor?"
Selena tugged at his sleeve at just the right moment. "Damian, forget it... Maybe Ivy really does have something urgent. I can go myself."
"No need." Damian stared at me coldly. "She'll go."
"Why?" I met his gaze directly. "Because I live here, I must obey every command?"
"Ivy Green!" Damian warned. "You'd better think carefully about what you're saying. This is the Thorne house. You use everything here, so you should follow the rules."
"And if I don't?" I laughed coldly. "What will you do? Throw me out? Make me 'take the hint'?"
Damian's pupils contracted sharply.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Selena sensed something was off. "Ivy, what's wrong with you today? You're talking so strangely... Are you feeling unwell?"
"I'm fine." I turned to leave. "But I won't be buying any strawberry tarts."
"Ivy!" Damian's voice was sharp. "If you don't go, I'll freeze your accounts."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Damn. That was my emergency fund.
"Are you threatening me?" I slowly turned around.
"This isn't a threat. It's a fact." Damian said coldly. "Want to keep living here? Do as I say. Otherwise, pack your bags and GET OUT."
"Don't forget," his words stabbed into my heart like blades, "without the Thorne family, you're NOTHING."
I looked at him quietly, my last illusion crumbling.
"Fine. I'll go."
Freezing rain fell like needles. I waited in line at Ladurée for three hours.
Brain cancer-induced headaches attacked in waves. I nearly fainted several times. Passersby whispered:
"God, that girl looks like death."
"Still waiting in line in this rain. Poor thing..."
If they knew my "fiancé" was ordering me to buy sweets for his true love, what would they think?
By the time I finally got the strawberry tarts, it was completely dark. I was soaked through, completely disheveled.
On the way back, I passed an upscale restaurant and glanced inside.
Then I froze.
Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Damian tenderly feeding Selena. In the amber candlelight, his eyes were full of tenderness as Selena laughed sweetly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
They looked so perfect together, so happy.
I stood in the freezing rain, the dessert box getting soaked in my hands.
They had forgotten all about the strawberry tarts.
Forgotten about me.
I watched the warm scene inside the restaurant and smiled.
Ten years. Since the day my father died saving his life, I had loved this man for ten whole years. I thought my sacrifices would move him. I thought someday he would see my worth.
But now I understood.
In his eyes, I was nothing but a burden, a responsibility he was forced to bear. He would rather try to kill me repeatedly than give me even a shred of genuine feeling.
I pulled out my phone and dialed an international number.
"Grandfather Thorne? It's me, Ivy."
An aged, authoritative voice came through the phone. "Ivy? Child, why are you calling me? Has something happened?"
I took a deep breath.
"About my engagement to Damian..."
I paused, watching the embracing couple in the restaurant.
"I want to break it off."
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