I Got Married To My Killer

CHAPTER 13

As a result, she thought to calculate her every move and make sure whoever is watching her doesn't ever come close.

Grace sat in her chamber, the weight of the upcoming wedding pressing against her chest like an iron vice. Every breath felt heavier. The 17th was fast approaching, and with each passing day, the reality of it all sank deeper into her bones.

She was about to marry Juliet.

Juliet the woman responsible for her murder.

How was she expected to stand at the altar, to smile as Juliet walked toward her, to vow a lifetime of loyalty to someone who had once taken her life without hesitation?

The thought made her stomach turn.

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Grace inhaled sharply before standing and making her way to the door. As she opened it, her gaze met Commander Robert's, his uniform pristine, his posture rigid, exuding unwavering authority.

"Commander Robert," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "May I help you?"

Robert's piercing eyes studied her. "No, my prince. I came to ask if you feel safe."

Grace stiffened. "Safe?"

Robert folded his arms. "Since the incident at the tea house, I have observed you closely. You've been distant, preoccupied. I wanted to ensure that you do not feel… watched."

Grace's pulse quickened, but she kept her face unreadable. "Why would you ask that, Commander? Do you suspect I am in danger?"

Robert's expression remained firm, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Of course not, Your Highness. I would never allow such a thing. But as your personal guard, it is my duty to notice when something is off." He paused. "If you wish, I can investigate the man from the tea house."

"No!" Grace snapped, a little too quickly. She exhaled, forcing herself to relax. "That won't be necessary. I am fine. Just overwhelmed by the wedding preparations."

Robert watched her carefully before nodding. "As you command. But know that I am always watching. Nothing will come close to you under my guard."

Grace nodded, dismissing him. As he walked away, a strange unease settled in her stomach.

Why now? she thought. Robert has never shown concern for me since I got here. What changed?

The words came to her again, whispering through her mind like an echo:

"You need everyone around you…do not forget".

She clenched her fists.

Did that include Robert? Or… Matthew Sterrn?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden vibration of her phone. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She hesitated, then grabbed the phone, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?" she said, her voice dropping into the practiced, masculine tone of Prince Quicke.

There was a brief silence. Then, a throat cleared on the other end.

"Good day, Prince Quicke. This is Mr. Morphine."

Grace felt the air leave her lungs. Her grip on the phone tightened as she whispered, "Mr. Morphine?"

"It is tradition in my family," he continued, his tone calm and composed, "to reach out to the groom before the wedding. A small way of getting acquainted before the union."

Grace's stomach twisted. She was speaking to the man whose family had destroyed her. The father and uncle of the women who ended her life.

She forced a steady breath. "Oh, how delightful," she said smoothly. "I hope you are well?"

"I am, Your Highness." A brief pause. "The date is approaching quickly. The wedding is the talk of the kingdom. Invitations are sent out daily, dresses are being tailored, meetings are held each night. I only wished to ask how do you envision your union with my daughter?"

Grace swallowed back the bile rising in her throat.

How do I envision marrying the woman who murdered me?

A dark smirk curled at the edge of her lips, but her voice remained calm. "Oh, the concerns of a true father. No wonder Juliet speaks and acts so purely. I can tell where she gets it from."

Mr. Morphine chuckled, missing the sarcasm entirely.

Grace continued, her voice controlled but quiet. "I look forward to a marriage built on love, dedication, and, of course, sacrifice. Juliet is willing to do anything, absolutely anything to maintain a good name. And that is something I admire about her."

There was another pause.

"Wise words, Prince Quicke," Mr. Morphine finally said. "You are the best choice my daughter has ever made. As we anticipate that day, I ask that you remain positive and reign well."

Grace's fingers curled against the phone.

"I will, Morphine. It has been my pleasure."

The line went dead.

She set the phone down and slowly walked to the ornate mirror across the room.

She stared at her reflection, at the face of Prince Quicke, but in her mind, she tried to picture what Grace Johnson would have looked like now.

She wondered what it would be like to stand beside Juliet, to share the same chamber.

Her fingers trailed along the edge of the mirror.

"But that won't be for long", she whispered.

The palace was alive with movement. Servants rushed about, carrying fabrics, arranging flowers, preparing for the grand event.

Grace barely had time to process anything before she was summoned for measurements—fittings for royal garments, discussions on ceremonial robes. The tailors took notes, scribbling down details of how the prince's attire should look for the grand occasion.

This wedding is more than a union.

It is an obligation.

And the entire kingdom was counting on her.

By evening, an executive meeting was held in the royal council chamber. Every noble and high-ranking official was seated in their designated places.

The Queen sat at the right of King Charlenugo, while Grace sat at his left.

The room fell silent as the King cleared his throat.

"You are all welcome," he said, his voice even, commanding. "This shall be the final gathering before the greatest wedding this kingdom has seen."

A murmur of approval swept through the room.

"As such," the King continued, "I will hear any final concerns. Quicke, we shall begin with you."

Grace felt every eye in the room turn toward her.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking.

"No, Father," she said carefully. "I have nothing to add. I can see that the preparations are going well and everything is in order."

The King gave a slight nod. "Very well. Next."

One by one, the officials spoke, offering their insights, finalizing arrangements. Hours passed as they discussed every last detail.

Grace sat in silence, listening.

But all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

This wedding was not just a ceremony.

It was a transaction. A kingdom's investment with great importance, she can't afford to mess things up.

As the meeting came to a close, the King rose, his voice cutting through the chamber with finality.

"The last matter to be addressed." He turned his gaze toward Grace or rather Prince Quicke.

"Immediately after your wedding, you shall be crowned on the seventh day. By then, your bride may lay with you."

Grace swallowed.

"Yes… yes, Father, your orders are understood".