The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 45: Awkward dinner

Hades tilted her chin upward with two fingers — cold, smooth, deliberate.

His touch was deceptively gentle, but it anchored her like iron.

Alice’s breath snagged in her throat. The tension that stretched between them was no longer just fear — it was something darker, heavier, and painfully aware. Her body refused to move, even though every nerve screamed at her to step away.

She wasn’t the type who just let people do as they pleased with her. But Hades...

His eyes scanned her face like he was reading a confession she hadn’t written.

Dawin exhaled slowly, "Well," he muttered, "See you at dinner." Then he walked out of the room without saying another word.

She blinked and tried to look at Dawin but Hades held her in place firmly. So she was looking up at him while he looked down at her.

If anything, the curve of his fingers grew firmer, thumb grazing the underside of her jaw — not enough to hurt, but enough to make her skin crawl with electricity.

Okay... she hated this.

As soon as Dawin’s footsteps fade, Hades fingers unclasped from her chin, letting her go like she’d suddenly become too warm to touch. The ghost of his grip still burned on her skin.

Alice took a step back, rubbing her jaw. Her eyes narrowed.

"What was that?" she asked, voice taut as she tried to regain herself. "You’re the one who warned me never to touch you!" she accused him.

Hades’s expression didn’t change. "I did."

She waited. But that was it. That was all he offered.

She gave a dry, incredulous laugh. "So why did you touch me?"

He looked at her then — cold, dismissive. "Seemed like you were enjoying the attention."

Alice blinked. "What?"

Hades’s tone sharpened. "The way you stood there like you wanted someone to fight over you."

She snorted. "Are you insane?"

But he stepped forward instead of back, towering over her just enough to make the space feel heavier.

"Have some shame," he said coldly. "You’re married."

That cut through her like a knife — especially because she was married. To him.

Before she could even retort, he turned on his heel and walked out, with that same, infuriating calm he always carried like armor.

She stood there, stunned.

Mouth open.

Brow furrowed.

A string of words lined up on her tongue—none of them polite.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Unbelievable."

Have some shame? Married?!

How dare he?

She clenched her fists. "Avoids me like the plague, acts like I’m invisible, then throws a tantrum about me being married? What kind of walking contradiction is that bastard?"

She spun around, fuming—only to come face-to-face with a passing housekeeper.

The woman gave a tiny bow, eyes respectfully averted.

Alice froze.

Right. She was in their house. A stage where she had to play at and so not let any of these people get to her.

She straightened, untying up her apron with steady fingers, face morphing into polite indifference.

"Dinner," she reminded herself.

With one last breath to swallow her anger, she turned on her heel and walked toward her room to prepare — leaving her fury behind like perfume in the hallway.

Dinner.

The silence at the dinner table was not accidental. It was cultivated — like fine wine and quiet war.

Alice sat straight in her seat, spine stiff from more than posture. Across from her, Hades sat like stone, unreadable as always.

She glanced up once and caught Hades’s eyes across the table.

He looked away.

Of course.

Bastard.

Her gaze met Dawin’s. He didn’t look away first. So she did.

He was weird.

She didn’t know why he was suddenly showing interest in her, but she had to avoid it. And avoid him.

Van on the other hand, looked like he would rather be with anyone else and anywhere else than to sit here with them. Alice could understand that feeling.

This was madness.

And then she entered.

The Wildfire Matriach.

As soon as her eyes fell on Alice, her steps faltered. She turned to the lady in charge of the kitchen for tonight and spoke with soft, precise elegance, her words laced with that burn only people like her could inflict even with the chillest tone.

"Aurora is not setting the table tonight?" she said lightly, not even looking in Alice’s direction.

No title. No warmth. Just a veiled jab delivered in crystal-clear diction.

Alice faltered, unsure how to respond.

Well, she should have seen this coming. Her gaze instantly went to Dawin.

Dawin was about to speak when Hades beat him to it, his voice slicing clean through the room.

"What do you mean?" Hades said coldly, gaze fixed on the older woman.

The Matriarch lifted her brow like he’d just spoken out of turn in a language she didn’t recognize. "I mean your wife, who now lives under this roof and eats from this table, should at least have the decency to contribute. Or did she think her job was just to sit here and look moderately pretty?"

Silence.

The air turned brittle.

Alice felt every pair of eyes swing her way — not pitying, not kind. Just... curious, like a lioness inspecting a new gazelle.

Hades looked at Alice. Alice looked back at him. He raised a brow at her and for the life of her, she wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate.

She hated being caught in the middle of all this. This was for the money. She had to do anything. Setting the table? That was not a big deal.

She was about to stand up when his stare turned into an intense glare. One that made her freeze.

"Sit down," Hades said.

The command was quiet — almost lazy. But it struck the table like a thunderclap.

Alice obeyed before her brain caught up.

The Wildfire Matriarch’s eyes narrowed slightly. It wasn’t irritation. It was calculation.

"She won’t be doing that again."

His voice was low. Dispassionate. He didn’t even lift his eyes as he poured himself wine, not giving the scared maid beside him the chance to fill his cup for him.

The pause that followed felt... sharp.

The Matriarch tilted her head slightly, considering. "Oh? And who will be?"

"The staff," Hades replied flatly.

Then he finally looked up — not at the woman, but across the table, through her.

"She’s not here to serve," he said, voice cold enough to chill the wine. "You want a maid, hire one."

There was no raise in volume. No dramatic emphasis.

But everyone at the table heard the weight behind it.

It was the kind of sentence that didn’t spark argument — because it was not an invitation.

It was a line drawn in steel.

The woman tilted her head with a soft, dry smile as she took her seat. "Oh? Is that so?"

He leaned back, lifted his wine glass, and took a sip, unbothered. "Yes."

The room seemed to shrink with every syllable. No raised voice. No overt anger. Just... finality.

The Matriarch said nothing. She didn’t need to. She picked up her fork, cool as ever, and the conversation died like a flame under glass.

But everyone understood the message.

The silence that followed was loud. No one said anything else. Even the servants walked quieter.

"The Chairman won’t be joining us tonight," The Matriarch announced to the table before turning to the waiting servers, "You may begin."

Alice felt heat creep up her neck — not shame. Just surprise. And confusion.

Since when did he defend her?

Well, maybe the last dinner, he hadn’t exactly been against her either. But...

She looked at him again.

His face remained neutral. Bored, even. As though none of this mattered.

And yet...

He had spoken.

For her.

He looked up, locking eyes with her. But this time, he didn’t look away. His eyes fell on her plate. On the salads and boring vegetables. And for a brief second, it looked like he was... amused.

She looked away.

The silence that followed might’ve stretched longer if not for Van, who cut into the quiet with his usual grin.

"Well," he drawled, "you will all be terribly jealous to hear this, but the Cresswells sent me a personal dinner invite for tomorrow night."

Alice turned her attention to him. An invite?

Hardy invited him too? Why?

Her grip on her fork tightened.

"I was invited too."

Darwin said calmly.

Alice’s head snapped toward him.

Wait, what?

What the hell?

What was Hardy thinking? Was he trying to set her up?

Van’s smile faltered slightly. "Oh. That’s... lovely. I thought I was special." He feigned hurt.

"You never were," Dawin muttered.

But whether he was joking or serious, no one could tell. His tone was always so... neutral.

"You were invited too, weren’t you?" Dawin turned to ask Hades.

Everyone turned to him, but Alice’s head twisted quicker.

God, no!

But then, he nodded.

"With my precious bride," Hades added as his gaze returned to her.

The silence returned, twice as heavy, and now it sat right in Alice’s chest. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

She was doomed.