Accidental Marriage with the CEO: Unwanted Bride-Chapter 53: Kill

"We married her off to you, Roman. We also decide when we are done with the marriage," the old woman spat, her voice sharp and cold. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she glared at him. "Don’t get ahead of yourself." She added.

Roman’s lips curled into something dangerously close to a smile.

"Now that you mention it..." he said, stepping forward slowly. Without another word, he bent down and lifted Patricia into his arms, holding her close as if daring anyone to stop him. "I am tempted to get ahead of myself."

With Patricia secured in his arms, he turned and walked toward the door. But just as he reached the maid who had whipped her, where Kay now stood waiting, he came to a halt.

"Take her away," he ordered, voice like steel. Kay responded immediately, but Roman’s eyes had already shifted, falling on Clara, who stood frozen nearby.

His gaze hardened. "Take her too."

Then, without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving chaos behind. Rage, confusion, and panic flooding the air like wildfire.

"No! No! Mother! Don’t let them take me away! I don’t want to go!" Clara screamed, her voice high and desperate. But Roman’s men, stationed just outside, had already acted on Kay’s command.

"Don’t you dare touch my daughter! I will kill you!!" Lisa shrieked, suddenly wild with fear, throwing herself in front of Clara. She spread her arms protectively, blocking the men, her voice sharp and unhinged.

The men hesitated, glancing toward Kay for direction.

"Do what you have to do," Kay said, cold and clear.

Kay shoved the maid forward. She resisted for a moment, but there was no fight left in her. She knew her fate was sealed and moved with grim acceptance.

The same advanced. With swift efficiency, they grabbed hold of Lisa, pried her away from Clara, and tossed her aside like she was nothing.

"You evil beast!" Lisa screamed, her voice raw with rage, her eyes blazing red. "Mother! Mother! No!" Clara cried, her hands flailing as they dragged her toward the door.

Lisa, now on her knees, could only watch helplessly, cornered and powerless against the force that was obstructing her.

"I will get you out! I promise!" Clara yelled after her daughter, tears spilling uncontrollably down her face.

She turned in fury, her eyes locking on her husband, her supposed protector, who stood cowering in the corner, silent, useless.

"You useless man!" She shouted, voice breaking. "I should never have married you! Never!!" She lunged at him, fists flying, striking him over and over with every ounce of pain in her body.

"Roman Blackthorn!" The old woman bellowed, voice booming across the room, her face twisted with fury. Her veins pulsed beneath her skin, her composure unraveling fast. How dare he humiliate her in such a way?

She should have known Roman would not be easy to control. But she had been so certain...certain he wouldn’t love Patricia, that he would never see her as anything but a pawn. Apparently, she had miscalculated.

Clearly, her granddaughter had learned a few things on how to seduce, how to sway, how to turn a man into a weapon. Not bad. But it didn’t matter.

Because as long as she is still alive, she decides everyone’s fate. She always got what she wanted.

She stole the man married to her best friend once, and bending him to her will had been child’s play. Roman would be no different. He would kneel.

And if he wanted to play games, she would play too, using the very thing he was trying to protect. Patricia.

After all, blood still tied them together, and the court of public opinion? It would always favor family.

Turning to Patricia’s mother, the old woman gave a cold, final order. "Have her returned home by tomorrow morning. And do not let her out unless I command it." Her voice was sharp, unquestionable. A pair of maids immediately stepped forward to carry out her bidding.

Patricia’s mother said nothing. As long as Patricia was safe, even barely. she would endure whatever torment the old woman deemed fit. Her own suffering no longer mattered.

Then Lisa stormed forward, her voice raised in outrage. "Are you just going to let it slide? He humiliated you in front of everyone! He walked out with your granddaughter, and here you are, still wasting time on his woman...a woman abandoned by her own daughter!"

The old woman didn’t flinch. "Patricia is also my granddaughter. Don’t lose composure over something so small," she said coldly. "Return to your rooms. I will deal with Roman myself."

She didn’t even bother to meet Lisa’s eyes as she switched on her wheelchair and began wheeling herself out.

Scoffing bitterly, Lisa shouted after her, "When have you ever cared about Patricia?!"

But the old woman kept moving, silent and indifferent.

One by one, the room emptied. Servants disappeared, silence settling over the space like a heavy fog. Soon, Lisa stood alone, seething, shouting, thrashing like a wounded beast.

Meanwhile, Roman had reached his quarters.

He moved carefully, gently lowering a half-conscious Patricia onto the bed. He was just about to stand when her trembling hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Her fingers barely had strength, but her grip was urgent.

"Mo... mother," she forced out, her voice hoarse and broken. It took effort, more than she could spare but she managed to say it.

He understood immediately. Even in her fragile, wrecked state, she was thinking of her mother.

He had been told she hated the woman but it was never hate, not really. Just resentment. And even that now seemed blurred by pain and survival.

"I will have Kay protect her," he said gently. "Worry about yourself."

Her hand hesitated for just a moment... then she let go. frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

Roman rose and returned a moment later with a small bottle of ointment. Sitting beside her on the bed, he watched the shivers running through her, sweat beading along her face, her whole body tightening with pain.

He clenched the bottle in his fist, anger twisting in his gut.

Then she whimpered, a soft cry escaping her lips and instinct overpowered rage.

He moved behind her, carefully helping her sit up and shifting to position himself at her back. Her body sagged slightly against him from the effort.

"I am going to tear the back of your gown," he warned. "I need to apply the ointment."

Her eyes snapped open, alarm flickering in their depths. She tried to twist around, to protest, but he gently turned her forward again and added firmly, "You don’t have a choice right now. And I am a doctor, I am your only option."

Exhausted and hurting, she gave in. A slow, defeated nod followed.

Taking that as permission, Roman carefully tore open the back of her gown. The fabric fell away, revealing her skin, now swollen, red, angry with welts. The old woman hadn’t cut deep enough to draw blood, but the damage would linger. It would take days, maybe weeks, to heal.

And the more Roman looked at it, the angrier he became.

He hated this, hated that he hadn’t stopped it earlier.

All he wanted at that moment was to kill the old woman with his bare hands. But death was far too kind for her.

She deserved something much... worse. A reward far more fitting.

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