Poor

Irene dashed through the streets, her eyes swollen with tears, her vision blurred. She ran aimlessly, not knowing where she was heading, consumed by her overwhelming emotions.

Her wedding gown served as a painful reminder of how her life had taken a turn for the worse. She felt the weight of despair pressing down on her, threatening to suffocate her.

Everywhere she turned, she could feel the gaze of onlookers, their curious eyes locked on her dishevelled state. A bride running away from her own wedding—a spectacle that no one could ignore.

"How could I have ever believed that today was my wedding day? It's nothing more than a sacrificial ritual," Irene thought bitterly, her mind filled with disbelief and regret. The more she dwelled on the situation, the more she realised how foolish she had been.

Irene came to a sudden stop, panting for breath. "Taxi! Taxi!" she called out desperately, hoping to find an escape from the chaos surrounding her. A yellow taxi pulled up in front of her, and she quickly climbed inside, her eyes still red and teary, a testament to the ordeal she had just endured.

The taxi driver, an older gentleman, caught a glimpse of Irene's distressed state through the rearview mirror. He couldn't help but wonder what could have led her to run away from her own wedding.

"Miss, you've run away from your wedding, haven't you?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, trying to make sense of the situation that had unfolded before him.

Irene's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?" she replied, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

The driver studied her face, sensing the turmoil within her. "Miss, I can understand that it's difficult to get married at such a young age, but running away isn't the solution," he said, his tone compassionate yet firm.

"Who said I ran away?" Irene snapped, her frustration evident. "You don't know anything about me. Don't make assumptions and twist the truth."

The driver recoiled slightly, realising that his words had struck a nerve. "I apologise if I misunderstood. It seems like you're going through a tough time, and I hope things get better for you," he offered, his voice tinged with empathy.

Irene sighed, her anger subsiding slightly. "Just stop talking. My head is already pounding, and I don't want to engage in any more conversations right now. Take me to Mounthill apartment",she muttered, resting her head against the backseat, seeking solace and trying to find a moment of respite from the overwhelming events of the day.

The driver understood her need for silence and decided to respect it, keeping his thoughts to himself as he continued to navigate the streets.

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi came to a halt. "Ma'am, we've arrived," the driver announced.

Irene opened her eyes, surprised at how quickly they had reached their destination. She felt a sense of unease as she stepped out of the taxi, her hurried steps causing her wedding gown to sway with each movement.

As she walked away, the sun began to set, casting a reddish hue over the surroundings. The realisation that her day had come to such an unfortunate end brought fresh tears to her eyes. She closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"It's going to be okay. I'll be fine. Nothing is truly wrong. My life may be difficult, but I can still find my own path and live without any further complications. It's just a marriage in name. No one can force me into anything anymore," Irene reassured herself, trying to find solace amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Theodore contemplated how he would greet his new wife, who had slapped him so forcefully earlier. It was far from a pleasant memory to hold onto.

"Albert, where does Irene live?" he asked abruptly, catching his bodyguard and driver off guard. Albert sensed the intensity behind Theodore's question, understanding the implications.

"Sir, Miss Jones lives in Mounthill Apartment," Albert replied, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. He wondered how his master had come to know about Irene's residence when the marriage was not even planned.

Theodore's anger grew, unable to comprehend how his own subordinate possessed such information about his wife. After all, he was the one who needed to be aware of all the details, not the other way around.

"How do you know where she lives?" Theodore questioned sharply, his expression darkening.

"Once we discovered that the 'Jones' family replaced the bride, I took it upon myself to gather information about Miss Jones," Albert explained cautiously.

Theodore's anger flared up with each passing moment. How could his trusted aide withhold crucial details about his own wife? It was an outrageous betrayal in his eyes, for he believed that he should be the one privy to all information regarding Irene.

"You didn't think it was important enough to inform me about my own wife?" Theodore's voice grew louder and more exasperated. The audacity of Albert's actions infuriated him.

Albert defended himself, trying to reason with Theodore amidst his mounting anger. "Young Master, I never intended to keep you in the dark. I even asked if you wanted the information, but you declined."

Theodore couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Albert insinuating that he was to blame? The notion seemed absurd and only fueled his rage further.

"You dare to blame me? If I declined, why did you still gather the information?" Theodore's disbelief was palpable, his voice laced with incredulity.

Sensing Theodore's escalating anger, Albert chose not to engage any further. Recognizing the futility of the situation, he directly handed over the file to Theodore.

Theodore snatched the file from Albert's hand, his expression turning icy. The weight of his glare conveyed his final warning, reminding Albert of the countless tantrums he had endured in the past.

"Once again, Albert, if you had a hand in this, I won't forgive you. I'll exile you to a desolate place. You know me better than anyone," Theodore threatened, his words dripping with vengeance.