Accidental Marriage with the CEO: Unwanted Bride-Chapter 52: Roman’s face

In that moment, Patricia loathed herself more than she hated the old woman. The fury clawed at her chest like a beast, wild and violent. She wanted to kill her, truly kill her, even if it meant losing her own life.

"Please!! Take me instead!" Her mother cried out, collapsing to her knees, her voice breaking under the weight of desperation. Patricia’s head jerked at the sound.

In the past, her mother would stand still, silent, distant, whenever the whips struck Patricia’s skin. And most times, she wasn’t even allowed to watch. But this time felt different. This wasn’t silent endurance. This felt like a rebellion...however pitiful. It was as if her mother was clawing at something inside of her.

’Oh, if only one of us had power... just one of us... maybe life would be different.’ She thought.

"Ahh!" Patricia screamed, convulsing as another lash tore through her back. The pain was sharp, but it dulled compared to the sight before her, her mother, trembling on her knees, sobbing, begging. That sight hurt more than any whip ever could.

She was furious, furious that her mother had waited this long to care. Furious that the old woman had reduced her mother to this pathetic, broken thing.

"Please, just let her go!" Her mother wept, clutching her chest. "Beat me instead! I am old... I am worn out..."

And for the first time in 15 years, Patricia saw something unfamiliar in her mother’s eyes.

Was it love?

The old woman raised her hand. The maid stopped mid-swing and stepped back, rigid and wordless behind Patricia.

"This," the old woman said, voice cold and measured, "could have been avoided, if we spoke the same language." She stepped forward, her eyes locking on Patricia’s mother. "Your daughter seems to have forgotten who owns her life. Perhaps... you can help her remember?"

She raised a knowing brow. Patricia’s mother gasped, lips parting in disbelief, color draining from her face.

Patricia narrowed her eyes, confused. Control? What control? What did she mean by help her remember?

Was there more to her existence than she had been told? A darker truth buried under years of silence? And if so... what could possibly still be shocking now? Even if her mother wasn’t truly her mother, Patricia wouldn’t blink. She had long suspected it.

Her mother dropped her gaze, thoughts storming behind her eyes. She had hoped, prayed, that Patricia’s marriage to Roman would offer her a way out. But clearly, Roman wasn’t enough.

And now... there was no more hiding. No more hoping.

She would have to choose: risk everything or lose her daughter forever.

She turned slowly and crawled to Patricia’s side. Her hands, shaking, reached for her daughter’s.

"You will do as Grandmother says," she whispered, exhaling deeply. "It’s the only way to survive."

Patricia’s face twisted from confusion into bitter disbelief.

Of course. Just when she thought there might be something worth salvaging in her mother, this was what she chose?

"Really?" Patricia scoffed, blinking back tears. "This is your grand revelation?"

"You don’t understand," her mother pleaded. "You must agree to conceive the child. Survival is all that matters now, Pat."

Patricia jerked her hands free, her eyes burning. Her mother’s desperation only made her angrier.

"All that matters to you, maybe," she said coldly. "But I would rather die than become another pawn in her sick game."

"No! Pat listen to me," her mother begged, taking her hands again.

"Oh, should I be grateful that you want me to survive?!" Patricia screamed, her voice raw with fury as she yanked herself free from her mother’s grip, sending the older woman crashing to the floor with a thud.

The room fell silent, tense, thick with unspoken terror.

"Very well then," the old woman said coldly, barely blinking. Her gaze flicked toward the maid behind Patricia with a sharp, silent signal.

Meanwhile...

Roman strode briskly toward the main deck, where the entire family had gathered for breakfast. Today was supposed to mark Patricia’s formal introduction, his declaration that she now belonged by his side. It wasn’t enough to cage her completely, but it was something. Enough to slow her if she ever tried to run.

Then Kay appeared beside him, his expression tight.

"Has she arrived?" Roman asked without looking.

"No," Kay replied, his voice low. Roman stopped dead in his tracks, suspicion flashing across his face.

"She hasn’t?" He repeated, tone sharper now.

"No, and... she’s not in her room either," Kay added carefully. "But the Carters are missing too. I believe... she’s with them."

That shift in Kay’s voice, hesitant, guarded, was all Roman needed to hear. His jaw clenched. No more words were necessary.

"Get the men ready," he ordered, turning on his heel. Kay followed silently.

A few moments later, they arrived at the glass room. Without hesitation, Kay flung the door open. No knocking. No warning.

Roman stepped in first, and froze. Patricia was kneeling on the floor, her back marked with fresh lashes. A maid stood above her, whip in hand.

His gaze darkened instantly, rage flooding him like a storm barely held back. Something primal stirred inside him, sharp and dangerous.

They were still doing this. They dared to do this even after he had claimed her. His hand twitched at his side.

Patricia, breathing hard and clutching her nightgown, slowly realized the whipping had stopped. She opened her eyes, confused. Has the old woman finally had enough?

But what were they all staring at? She turned, slowly.

And there he was. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

For the first time in her life, Patricia felt genuine relief at the sight of him. Her fragile strength shattered, and she collapsed, sobbing as pain tore through her body.

"Roman! You could have knocked before entering. This is a family matter," Lisa snapped, her voice high and hollow. She tried to sound confident, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. She was shaking. Praying he wouldn’t unleash whatever fury was building in him.

Roman turned toward her, his gaze sharp and cutting.

"Perhaps I need to walk around with our marriage certificate," he said slowly, each word deliberate, "to remind you she’s now my wife... and my family."

Lisa’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came. She looked away, swallowing hard.

"She may be your wife now," the old woman said coolly, "but she was ours first. We still have a right to her. You can wait outside until we are done."

She waved a hand toward the maid to resume the punishment but before the whip could even twitch, Kay was already beside the woman, a shadow at her shoulder.

"I wouldn’t suggest that," he whispered, voice cold and final.

The maid froze. Trembling, she turned her eyes toward the old woman, silently begging for help.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The old woman shouted, slamming her hand on the armrest in fury.

Roman didn’t flinch.

"I don’t think I made myself clear," he said, voice low and lethal. "Patricia Blackthorn is my wife. If you have anything to say to her, you say it to me."

His eyes scanned the room like a predator. "And since you have taken it upon yourselves to lay a hand on what belongs to me, without my permission...I will be returning that favor."

The room plunged into a tense, breathless silence. The old woman stiffened. Lisa looked pale. The maid’s hands trembled at her sides.

Hell had just entered the room, and it wore Roman’s face.

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