I Went to Jail to Save His First LoveChapter 1
Gilbert Bolton and I got married.
On our wedding day, his so-called first love—Irene Elliott—was involved in a car accident that claimed a life. Instead of offering support, he turned on me, accusing me of provoking her.
"Irene can't have a criminal record," he said coldly. "You take the fall for her."
When I refused, he threatened my father's safety, leaving me no choice but to agree. I bore the blame for Irene's crime and was thrown into prison. Tortured and broken, I endured a life worse than death, but it was there that I finally saw Gilbert—and my own heart—clearly.
Even if he knelt before me and begged for forgiveness one day, I vowed never to look back.
——
When I was released from prison, his driver was waiting at the gate. Without a word, I was driven to a club on Gilbert’s orders.
The moment I reached the private room door, I heard voices inside.
"Gilbert," Luke Hart, his close friend, said, "I heard Amelia Byrd was released from prison today. What about Irene?"
There was a pause, and then Gilbert’s calm and detached voice said, "Her return won’t affect anything between me and Irene."
"Exactly," Luke chimed in. "If she hadn’t forced you into marriage, none of this would’ve happened. This is all her fault."
I stood frozen outside the door, their words cutting through me like shards of glass. Gilbert had proposed to me, yet now, I am being painted as the villain who had ruined his life.
Perhaps this relationship was doomed from the start, a mistake that should have never begun.
I turned to leave, my heart heavy with their words, but fate had other plans. A waiter carrying a tray of wine appeared from the hallway, and I accidentally knocked it over. The bottles shattered, and the wine splashed all over me, drenching my clothes and drawing immediate attention.
The noise brought everyone in the private room to the door. Gilbert stepped out, his expression darkening the moment he saw me standing there.
"So you’re here," he sneered. "Why not come in? When did you pick up the habit of eavesdropping? A dog can’t stop eating shit, can it? Even years in prison couldn’t teach you any better."
His words hit me like a slap. The people gathered around stared at me, their judgmental eyes searing into my skin. Whispers rose among them, and the weight of their disdain was suffocating.