Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91: Careless Accident

Chapter 91: Careless Accident

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the grand Blackwood estate, Grace let out a tired breath. The entire ride had been tense. Marco hadn’t said a word, and she hadn’t bothered to break the silence. Her wrist still ached from his earlier grip, but it didn’t

matter.

The car door was yanked open, and before she could react, Marco was already stepping out. He didn’t offer her a hand, not that she expected him to–but he stood there with his jaw clenched, waiting for her to move.

With a sigh, she slid out of the vehicle, straightening her coat before looking up at the massive estate she had called home all her life. But something was… off.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bartholomew Blackwood was standing at the entrance like he was waiting for her.

And he was smiling.

Grace’s steps faltered slightly.

Bartholomew Blackwood didn’t greet people at the door. He didn’t wait for anyone. If someone wanted to see him, they were the ones who made the effort. Yet there he was, standing with a glass of whiskey in hand and a rare expression of what almost seemed like good humor settling on his sharp features.

“Welcome home, daughter,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

Grace narrowed her eyes. That tone. That expression. The last time he had looked remotely pleased to see her was–no, there was no last time.

“What’s with the theatrics?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Bartholomew merely chuckled, raising his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip. “Can a father not be pleased to see his only daughter return home?”

Grace’s lips pressed into a thin line. She knew better than to fall for that act. Bartholomew Blackwood was never pleased without reason. And if he was in a good mood, it meant something was brewing, something she wasn’t going to like.

“Just tell me.” Grace demanded out of exasperation before she glanced at Marco, who stood stiffly beside her, equally wary of Bartholomew’s unusually good mood. Marco couldn’t quite put his finger on it, until the old man spoke.

“Congratulations, my dear! You’re getting married!”

The space between them thickened instantly.

Grace flinched and her body stiffened as those words settled over her. Even Marco, who had been standing tensely beside her was visibly tensed. His jaw clenched, as if he were about to say something, but before he could, Grace beat him to it.

“What?” she uttered with disbelief laced in her voice.

Bartholomew, still in disturbingly high spirits, let out a chuckle and took another sip of his whiskey. “You heard me,” he said. ” You’re getting married to the Castellanos.”

Grace’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “No way in hell.”

She turned sharply, intent on walking away, but she had barely taken a step when with one swift, merciless yank, Bartholomew grabbed her by the hair. He began dragging her inside so forcefully that she lost her balance and fell to the floor with a pained

gasp.

“Sir!” Marco started, stepping forward, but one sharp, warning glare from Bartholomew stopped him in his tracks.

Then, before Grace could even lift herself up, she was met with a face full of ice–cold whiskey.

The sudden splash of liquid stung her eyes, the scent of alcohol burned her nose, but it wasn’t over.

Chapter 91: Careless Accident

The next thing she knew, Bartholomew’s empty glass came hurtling through the air, shattering against the marble floor beside

her

But it was his palm–his open, unrestrained slap, that truly sent her reeling.

The force of the impact snapped her head to the side, and for a second, the world around her blurred. A sharp sting spread across her cheek, and a warm trickle of blood ran down from her nose.

The crack of the slap echoed through the vast hall, leaving behind silence so heavy it suffocated.

Marco stood frozen as his usual sharp tongue became utterly useless in the face of what he had just witnessed. He had seen Bartholomew cruel before, cold, ruthless–but never like this. Never toward her.

And yet, Bartholomew barely looked fazed.

“You will marry the Castellanos. Got that?!” he thundered.

Grace with her vision still hazy, could barely register the pain. But she did register the overwhelming rage boiling in her veins.

“Over my dead body.”

Grace forced the words out as the sharp, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. A violent cough wracked her body, and when she looked down, red splattered against the pristine marble floor beneath her.

Marco stiffened as his fists clenched and decided to stop him. But before he could step forward, Bartholomew’s fingers twisted into Grace’s hair again.

She barely had a second to react before he yanked hard.

A choked cry left her lips as her body lurched backward, the searing pain shooting through her scalp like fire. Her balance broke, and she collapsed onto the cold floor with a thud. The impact rattled through her bones, but the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of being dragged like an animal.

“You listen here, you little ingrate,” Bartholomew snarled.

She gasped at the force of his grip, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her body refused to tremble. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

But when he spoke again, the air inside her lungs turned to stone.

“This is the least you can do for me after suffering through the burden of raising you!” Bartholomew spat, his voice dripping with years of suppressed resentment. “You–you were never meant to exist.”

He let the words sink in, watching as Grace’s breath caught in her throat as her body went rigid.

“You wer

born fro

thing more than a careless accident,” he continued coldly, his eyes dark with disdain. “A stain on my bloodline, eeting moment of weakness with a prostitute who was never worthy to carry my name, let alone my child.”

His lips curled in pure disgust.

“I had to hide you like a filthy little secret,” he went on, his tone becoming crueler with every word. “Tolerate you. Endure the shame of your existence, knowing every second that you were never supposed to be mine.”

He leaned in then, his voice dropping to something sharp and unforgiving.

Do you know what that was like for me? Do you have any idea how it sickened me to look at you and see nothing but a mistake I could never erase?”

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t breathe.

The words lodged themselves in her throat like shards of broken glass, and no matter how hard she tried to swallow them down,

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Chapter 91 Careless Accident

the pain refused to subside.

Marco who stood behind the man he respected, had gone rigid. Frozen in place.

Her hands trembled against the cold marble floor, but the numbness crawling up her spine was worse.

Because it all made sense now.

Every distant glance. Every cold word. Every moment she had spent wondering why she was never enough. Why he never looked at her the way a father should.

And when he did looked at her. Really looked at her.

It was nothing but hate.

“This is the least you can do,” he sneered, “after causing the death of my real daughter.”

Grace’s stomach twisted violently at the mention of her sister. The words slammed into her like a thousand knives at once and even though she had been blaming herself, it can’t be compared to how painful it was coming from the man she wished would treat her like a daughter one day.

But for him, she was not her real daughter. Not Grace.

Not the girl who spent years trying to earn even the smallest sliver of affection from him. Not the girl who broke herself just to make him proud.

The girl who never had a chance.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but it didn’t reach her lungs.

Her mind fought to reject his words, to push them away as if they could be undone. But the truth had already sunk its claws into her, poisoning every memory, every fragile piece of hope she had clung to.

Her throat burned, but she refused to cry.

Not in front of him.

Not when he had already taken everything from her.

But the tear still slipped down her cheek–silent and unforgiving.

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