Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Fear

Chapter 92: Fear

After a good beating, Bartholomew finally calmed down.

Grace’s bedroom was unbearably silent with a lingering scent of whiskey and blood. She sat on the bed, motionless. Her back was straight, but there was no strength in it, no defiance. Just stillness. Her hands lay limply in her lap, her fingers slightly curled as if she had forgotten how to hold onto anything.

Marco was on his bended knee, dipping a cloth into the basin of warm water and pressing it gently against the cut on her cheek. He had seen Grace hurt before. He had seen her bleed, watched her pull herself back up with that stubborn will of hers. But now… she didn’t even flinch.

Her eyes which were once sharp and defiant, now stared at the wall, unfocused, as if she were looking through it. Marco’s jaw tightened.

He wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, she spoke.

“Would it make everyone happy if I had just died?”

His hand froze mid–motion. His heart did too.

His head almost instantly snapped up as his sharp eyes locked onto her blank expression.

“What are you saying?” His voice was laced with disbelief. “Who would be happy if someone died?”

She blinked, her lips parting as if his question had confused her. Then, with a slight shake of her head, she continued, her voice eerily calm.

“You know that’s not what I asked.” She tilted her head slightly. “Even if a stray dog dies, someone might be sad. But if I died… would anyone be?”

Marco clenched his jaw. Something inside him twisted violently.

“Grace, don’t-” He reached for her hand instinctively, expecting her to slap it away. But she didn’t. She let him hold her hand which was limp in his grasp. That scared him more than anything else.

Then she spoke again in a soft but distant tone.

“I heard… that if you love one, you will hate the other.” Her lips curled in a ghost of a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “And clearly… I was not the one who was loved.”

Marco felt his chest tighten as she exhaled slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So if I could rn back time… I’d choose to die instead of Faith.”

Marco felt like his chest was caving in. Every word she spoke, every hollow laugh that left her lips, felt like a knife slicing through him.

“It would make my old man happy. It would make everyone happy.‘ She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto his, but there was no warmth in her eyes. Just emptiness. “Including you.

His grip on her hand tightened. “Grace—”

But before he could say more, she laughed. A light, breathless chuckle that sent chills down his spine.

“You know,” she mused in an eerie voice, as if they were discussing something mundane. “I never really liked my hair that much anyway.” With that, she ran her fingers through the tangled mess, wincing slightly when loose strands easily broke off. She twirled them between her fingers as her lips curled into an almost amused smile.

“I could make a plushie out of this,” she joked, holding up the broken strands. “Maybe a little doll. I’d call it Little Grace.”

“Grace”

But she didn’t let him speak. “Or maybe I should make a wig instead,” she continued, laughing again. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Me walking around with a wig made out of my own hair.”

“Stop.” Marco attempted but she ignored it.

“Or, oh! Maybe I should donate it. You know, for people who actually need it.” She snapped her fingers, as if it was the best idea she had ever come up with.

“Grace…”

“Or, wait… do you think it would make good stuffing for a pillow?” She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to seriously consider it. “I bet it would be soft enough. Maybe if I had something comfortable to rest on, I’d finally get a good night’s sleep.”

Marco clenched his jaw. “Grace, stop it.“.

She blinked at him, tilting her head like she didn’t understand why he sounded so angry.

“Why? I’m just trying to have a conversation here…” she said with small shrug. “I mean, it’s nice, isn’t it? Talking like this?”

The way she smiled after saying that–it made his stomach turn.

“Grace, you don’t have to pretend.” He spoke softly, squeezing her hand. But that small gesture only made her smile falter. If she was the jolly grace back then, she would have jumped for joy if he held her hand.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, but her voice wavered. “I’m just tired. Really, really tired.”

She leaned her head back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know, I used to think that if I just worked hard enough, if I was strong enough, then maybe…” She trailed off, before suddenly changing the subject again. “Oh! Did you know I used to have a goldfish when I was little?”

Marco’s brows furrowed at the abrupt shift. “Grace-”

“I named it Star,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. I thought it was magical, like it could grant me wishes or something.” She let out a small laugh. “Of course, that was stupid. It died after a week.”

She laughed again, but there was no humor in it.

“Do you think fishes feel sad before they die?” she asked all of a sudden. “Like, do they know when it’s coming? Do they feel scared? Or d y just… stop?”

“Stop, Grace…” Marco said firmly, his voice edged with frustration and fear.

She let out a soft sigh, rolling her head to the side as her half–lidded eyes met his. “You’re no fun,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

It should have sounded teasing and lighthearted. But it wasn’t.

Marco’s jaw tightened as he watched her. She was trying so hard to act okay, but it was obvious that she wasn’t.

Her breathing was slow and uneven. Her skin was already pale, almost translucent under the dim lighting. The bruises on her face were darkening, swelling, but she didn’t, even flinch at the pain.

LIVE

And then, right in front of him, her lashes fluttered once, twice–before her eyes slowly began to close and it made his heart stop.

“Grace,” he called sharply, shifting forward in an instant. “Hey. Don’t-”

Chapter 92 Fear

But before he could reach for her and shake her awake, she murmured something so softly it sent cold fear straight down his

spine.

“Please… call my doctor…”

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