Chapter ２

"Bride, please put on your wedding dress."

His words brought Amelia Wytte back to a more cruel reality from the desperate abyss.

Amelia Wytte was trembling all over. That crazy Nicola Clinton .

The people in front of her, who were busy decorating for her, knew it’s absurd, but they were as numb as usual.

Crazy! They were all crazy!

She suddenly pulled the crown, but in the next second, her hands were tightly clamped. "Miss , please cooperate."

Unable to move, Amelia Wytte could only be at the mercy of them, cold all over.

She looked up at her flaming lips and watery eyes in the mirror. The delicate jewelry and wedding dress made her more gorgeous.

She smiled bitterly, but her face was full of sadness.

It was drizzling.

This was probably the most low-key wedding ceremony in S city. There was no bride team, no bridesmaid, no guests

The car was driving on an empty road. Amelia Wytte faintly heard a burst of crying not far away. Her body stiffened. Thinking of the portrait that Nicola Clinton asked her to hold, her face instantly turned pale.

This was not a wedding. It was Bill Clinton 's funeral!

When she got out of the car, the four security guards surrounded Amelia Wytte, as if they were afraid that she would escape.

The gloomy and depressed atmosphere around made Amelia Wytte on the verge of collapse. She stood still and looked desperately at the people not far away who were mourning in pain

Although she was so far away, she still saw Nicola Clinton in the crowd

He was dressed in a pure black suit, and his expression was as solemn as if he had sunk into ice. He stood alone in the center, and even so, it could not cover up his handsome and tall figure.

Suppressing the despair in the bottom of his heart, Amelia Wytte stared at his back, as if he had felt something. He turned around and glanced coldly at Amelia Wytte.

"Miss Whytte , please." The security guard sensed the hint in his eyes and immediately escorted Amelia Wytte to the mourning hall.

Amelia Wytte was pushed too hard to keep up with her pace. The continuous cries and the heavy syllables of funeral music intertwined, and her eyes were dizzy.

"Bitch, who let you in?" Suddenly, a sharp and angry voice came from behind.

Before Amelia Wytte came to her senses, she was slapped hard on the face. She lost her balance and was beaten to bend her knees and half lie on the ground.

As soon as she raised her head, she saw Laura Kent's face full of resentment and disgust.

The pain of losing her son made this delicate middle-aged woman who had been well maintained ten years older in an instant. All her sadness now turned into hatred for Amelia Wytte.

"You... You are an unpardonable sinner. It's all your fault. You killed my son. I want you to pay for your life!"

Then Laura Kent slapped hard on the other side of Amelia Wytte.

It seemed that Amelia Wytte's head was no longer hers, and there was a taste of fishy sweetness in her nose. She had no doubt that Laura Kent had used up all her strength in these two slaps.

"Aunt, it's not me. I don't know what happened to Bill ..."

The bride's headwear had already been smashed. Lying on the ground, Amelia Wytte raised her head and explained stubbornly.

"Shut up! You are such a vicious and dirty woman. You are not qualified to call Bill 's name!" Laura Kent cursed in a hoarse voice, trembling violently.

The loud noise attracted many people's attention. They looked at Amelia Wytte with surprise and disgus.

The complicated dispute and the uncontrollable Laura Kent were undoubtedly shocking news. A reporter took the opportunity to secretly take photos of everything.

Amelia Wytte moved her mouth, but found that she was too weak to say a word. The rain and tears blurred her eyes, and only a strange and blurred face was reproaching her.

She was like a rat crossing the street in their eyes, and everyone wanted to step on her.

The abyss was getting deeper and deeper, and no one would be her saver.

Until a low and hoarse male voice came above her head. It was him. The heart of Amelia Wytte rose and fell. She was about to raise her head, but was stabbed by the following words.

"Mother, Bill likes her very much. Let's finish the wedding procedure and let him rest in peace." Nicola Clinton walked to Amelia Wytte, looked at the woman on the ground expressionlessly and pulled Laura Kent away.

Unexpectedly, Laura Kent pushed Nicola Clinton away. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were full of resentment. "It's all your fault. You are not kind-hearted at all!"

"You made him disabled when you were a child. When he grows up, you have to find jinx to keep him company and hurt him for a lifetime!" After saying that, Laura Kent covered her face in pain.

Speaking of Bill Clinton 's childhood experience, Nicola Clinton 's face stiffened and his thin lips tightened. He was speechless and looked a little depressed.

Amelia Wytte curled up and held her knees tightly. Her consciousness was somewhat absent-minded,she covered her ears but still heard clearyly the insult, curse and cry.

How could this be?

She had only been in a coma for one night, but when she woke up, everything had changed.

The boy who always liked to smile disappeared overnight. The man who always had a cold face but lived in her heart wished her to die. Everyone wanted her to die

Her hair was grabbed, and Amelia Wytte felt a tearing pain on her head, as if her scalp was about to be lifted.

"You killed my son. You will never have a good life for the rest of your life!" All of a sudden, Laura Kent seemed to have lost her mind. She grabbed Amelia Wytte's hair and pulled her towards Bill Clinton 's memorial plate.

"Kneel down!" Laura Kent kicked her knee , and the sharp heels seemed to separate her bones.

A cold chill came from the ground. Amelia Wytte's hands were tightly gripping the ground. This was the first time she knelt down in her life.

She had been the daughter of the Wytte family since she was a child. She had lived a proud and wanton life. Even if the Wytte family declined later, no one could make her kneel down

It was like she was in a trap full of fog. She had no evidence and conditions to resist and was forced to bear all these injuries.

"Kowtow to Bill !"

Amelia Wytte obstinately straightened her neck. Soon, two tall men behind her rudely pressed her head and forcefully pressed her on the ground.

Nicola Clinton stood not far away. His eyes were indifferent, but fixed on the thin figure who was unwilling to compromise. His eyes were a little complicated.

"Bill , it's not me..." a muffled sound came from the forehead and the cold tile, accompanied by a faint sob of Amelia Wytte, which was unusually sad.

"Bill , it's not me..." the man's strength was even heavier, and the voice of Amelia Wytte was hoarse.

"It's not me..."

At this time, a police car whistle came, and the heavy footsteps were as gloomy as the weather.

"Please come with us." The cold shackles locked the slender and thin wrists of Amelia Wytte.