His Untamed Rose novel Chapter 70

By the end of his crying fit, Ansel was completely spent—face buried in his arms, muffling his sobs as he endured the punishment.

“And finally, these last ten lashes? They’re for not acting like a man! The moment you hit a little bump in the road, you break down in tears and call for your parents. If you can’t solve your own problems, you deserve a good spanking!” Lumina scolded sharply.

Nancy watched from the side, her heart pounding anxiously. She was older now, and seeing a child punished like this tugged at her conscience.

But when she glanced to her right, she saw Mr. Royce sitting back, sipping his coffee without a care in the world. He didn’t even think to intervene—in fact, there was a faint, almost amused smile on his lips.

Once the little rascal had been properly dealt with, Lumina tossed the paddle aside. Her hand ached from the effort, and she rubbed her sore wrist with a tired sigh.

Ansel lay sprawled out, practically lifeless, the pain from his stinging backside flaring with every movement. The “witch” might have walked away, but the burn lingered.

He looked over at Cedric, eyes welling again. His voice cracked as he whimpered, “Dad, Dad… please help me!”

Lumina slowly lifted her gaze, eyes cold as steel, and shot him a chilling glare. “Don’t bother calling for your father,” she sneered. “If your dad acted like you, I’d give him the same treatment!”

Ansel froze, a chill running down his spine. He dared not make another sound, holding back his tears with all his might.

The terror gripped him completely. He’d just realized how frightening this woman could be. His own mother wouldn’t even dream of talking to his dad that way.

Cedric’s lips curled into a faint smile, his usual sternness replaced with an indulgent warmth. “Lumina’s absolutely right. In this house, her word is my word.”

Ansel stared in disbelief at the usually stoic man.

Was this really his father? The same man who now defended the “witch” so gently?

Lumina gave a dismissive snort and ignored the little troublemaker, turning on her heel to head upstairs and wash her face—her exit as brisk as her discipline.

Apparently, her approach had worked wonders. By the time Lumina emerged from the bathroom, the house was silent, no more wailing from downstairs.

Back in her bedroom, she flicked on the bedside lamp and settled in, dialing her best friend Ashley for their usual catch-up.

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