All Chapters of Obsession: His Runaway Bride: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Chapter 112: AngerGrace's eyes slowly fluttered open as the warmth of Faith's voice still echoed in her mind like the final notes of a lullaby. For a moment, she didn't move. The weight of sleep clung to her limbs, heavy and unyielding. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths as the dream clung to her consciousness, refusing to let go.A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, tracing a narrow path down her cheek. "Grace... I was..."Her fingers curled lightly against the sheets. And then, as though the urgency in her heart overpowered her body's fatigue, Grace sat up in a sharp motion.The sudden movement startled Marco, who had been resting beside her bed with his head bowed low and one hand loosely gripping the edge of the mattress. He jolted upright with eyes wide in alarm."Grace!" Marco gasped, his hand reaching out instinctively as she bolted upright with her movements frantic and sharp. "You're awake—careful, don't—""Don't touch me!" Grace snapped. Her voice was raw

Chapter 114: Tear DownDr. Everett leaned back in his chair. The worn leather groaned beneath him as he exhaled slowly. The hospital's central system buzzed faintly overhead, mixing with the occasional beep from monitors echoing down the hallway. His office was dim and only the desk lamp was on, while its warm light brushed across stacks of patient files and unread reports.But none of them mattered right now.All he could think about was Grace.He had known her since she was a child—watched her grow up behind walls soaked in silence and power. He had seen the bruises she never spoke of, the cold stares she'd learned to ignore, the terrifying strength she had taught herself to wear like armor. But nothing, nothing, could have prepared him for the truth she dropped in his lap hours ago.He slowly rubbed a hand across his face as the weight of it all pressed into his bones.Because the truth... the truth was that Grace and Faith weren't even Bartholomew's real children. They were merely

Chapter 116: MercilessGrace's unapologetic tone cut clean through the room. She was now a woman stripped of hesitation. To Marco, it was no longer a surprise—the venom in her tone, the spine in her voice. He had seen glimpses of this Grace before... but never like this. Never this unrelenting.Bartholomew, however, still hadn't grasped it. He wasn't a man who bowed to women, especially not ones he raised like pawns. His face twisted in outrage, and he barked through his pain, "How dare you—"But he never finished the sentence.In one blink, her eyes snapped toward him with lethal precision. Her hand moved faster than Marco could process, a sudden, seamless draw of the pistol from her side, the twitch of a finger, and then...Bang.The shot rang out like a thunderclap in a storm already brewing. Bartholomew let out a guttural cry as he stumbled back feeling the second bullet tear through his opposite shoulder. He collapsed against the chair and blood now bloomed through both sides of

Chapter 118: Desperate'I've survived things people don't clap for.Not the kind of survival that gets headlines or standing ovations. The kind where you still get out of bed, even when your body feels like it's carrying a hundred invisible pounds. Where you look in the mirror and see bruises...some on your skin, most on your spirit...but still manage to put on a face the world won't question.It's strange, isn't it? How good we become at hiding pain. How easy it is to say "I'm fine" when you've practiced it for years. You learn to smile on cue, to laugh at the right moment, to hold your tears until you're alone... if they even come anymore. Sometimes the ache is too old for crying. Sometimes it's just a quiet throb beneath your ribs that no one else can hear.I've survived the kind of silence that doesn't soothe. The kind that roars in your ears when everyone has left, and you're sitting with the echo of all the things you couldn't say. I've walked into rooms and felt the chill of ju

Chapter 120: His WarriorThe helicopter touched down hard on the private clearing just outside the Bartholomew estate. The moment the skids hit the ground, he was already unbuckling, and already moving as his heart nervously pounded in his chest.But silence greeted him.The estate loomed in the distance like a mausoleum with lights on, but not a soul in sight. No guards. No voices. Just the wind and the heavy, unnatural stillness that made his boots sound too loud on the earth.Then a figure burst from the trees. One of his men, the one who had called earlier, looked breathless, pale, eyes wide with panic as he ran straight to him."She went that way, sir." the man panted, pointing toward the old bridge that arched out over the river's bend. "She was bleeding. I tried to follow but—"Keegan didn't wait for more. His legs moved before thought could catch up.He sprinted.His coat snapped behind him like a flag in the wind as he tore down the narrow, muddy path carved through trees and