Hennessey

39 - No More Miranda

Chapter 39

In a moment, Angel raced across the room and covered Miranda’s mouth with his hand, pushing the blade into her stomach. She tried to scream, but it was muffled. He grabbed her jaw and slammed it closed, making her bite her tongue so hard it began bleeding.

Her mouth began filling with the metallic taste of her own blood and it flowed down her throat. Angel continued stabbing her in the abdomen, but that wasn’t what killed her. The eldest LN daughter drowned in her blood rushing from the broken veins in her tongue, blocking her breathing.

Miranda’s body went limp and Angel allowed her to fall to the tile floor with a thud. He quickly disposed of the body by sending it down the garbage chute, along with the weapon that killed her. Luckily there wasn’t much blood on the floor or on his body.

Angel smirked, savoring the horrified look in Miranda’s eyes as she had choked on her blood. All the way until the life drained from her eyes. She didn’t deserve to live in Angel’s eyes. Nobody did, except you and him.

Maids came back in, and one found small red dots covering the floor in a corner of the room, but the others told her to ignore it. They’d all regret doing that.

The cake was baked into large pieces, all wrapped in white pieces of paper, requested by Angel. He told them to make sure every slice was individually wrapped in snow white paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

Each guest was to receive one, as was each servant. It was an unusual request, since servants rarely got the same lavishes as the guests. Nonetheless, the request was carried out and as each guest came through the doors to the foyer of the Cosimo manor, they were handed a package and instructed not to open it until it was time.

Meanwhile, Angel was preparing you for the wedding. You were in the dress you had chosen, once an image of hope, and now a straight jacket that tied you to the psychopath Angel Cosimo. He spread a light layer of pink lipstick across your lips, but didn’t dare touch your eyes. He would have commanded some maids to do your makeup, but he thought you were perfect without it. They would have turned you into a whore like Miranda.

You glared at Angel as he brushed your hair lovingly. How dare he do this to you? Maybe he would be mad at you and not want to marry you if you were to tell him about your real parents.

“Cornelius,” you said. His hand stopped moving through your hair. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to force the words to come out. Angel felt his heart skip a beat as you said his name. He prefered you calling him Angel, but he would settle for Cornelius.

“Yes, beloved?” You cringed at the nickname he had bestowed upon you. His hands continued to glide through your hair.

“There’s something I need to tell you about my parents…” The words froze in your mind, not making it to your voice.

“What is it?”

“They… they’re…. I…” He put his hand on yours, softly rubbing circles in your palm. Angel tried to help you form the words, but his hand on yours made your just want to shrivel up and disappear. “They’re here.” You spat the words out and his hands stopped moving.

“What do you mean?” His eyes looked as though they would burn through you and his grip tightened on your hand.

“I-I mean… they’re h-here. My birth parents…”

“Your birth parents? How do you-”

“Miranda is my sister.” Angel shot to his feet.

“Don’t lie to me, YN.”

“I’m not!” you exclaimed. “Just…. There’s a long story I have to tell you.” He sat beside you. Your eyes danced on the floor as your mouth began moving and words flowed like lava, each one burning you more and more. And yet you couldn’t stop speaking until it was all gone.

When the story was done, Angel’s hand was clasped over his mouth, a sick feeling in his gut. You felt as though your throat was burning and you were about to vomit. Silence permeated through the room.

Angel stood up and walked to the door, editing his plans quickly.

“Angel,” you squeaked like a meek mouse. “Are you mad at me? Will you no longer marry me? Will you let me go.” He whipped around, a cat like grin on his face.

“No, no, no,” he said. “This is perfect.” You raised an eyebrow, nearly scared of the vicious grin spreading across his features.

“H-How is this perfect?” You were scared to know the answer.

“Because,” his hand caressed your cheek softly. You leaned away from the heat of his skin. “I’m still marrying a LN. That’s what my father wanted.”

*****
I almost feel bad for killing Miranda like that. I mean, she was a bitch but I don't really think anyone should die that badly. Choking on their blood while looking into the eyes of the person they're in love with....

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