THE CEO'S ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

"No! You can't take my child!"

Her scream shattered the stillness, frantic and raw, but the hospital walls swallowed the sound. No one came. The IV tugged at her wrist, a dull pain she barely registered through as panic gripping her chest. The masked men stood over her, shadows with empty faces, one cradling the tiny bundle of her newborn.

She fought-weak and trembling, her arms heavy as stone. Every movement sent waves of exhaustion through her, but she couldn't stop. "Where are the nurses?" she thought wildly. "Why can't they hear me?"

"Give me back my baby!" she sobbed, her voice cracking as desperation clawed up her throat.

One of the men stepped closer. For an agonising second, hope flickered-was he returning the infant? Her heart rose, her arms already reaching out...

But instead, she felt a sharp sting in her arm. Cold and deliberate.

"No..." she whispered, the word slipping from her lips like sand through fingers.

The room tilted, and the figures above her blurred into something she couldn't fathom.

The last thing she saw was the man turning away with the baby still nestled in his arms.

When she woke, the crib beside her bed was empty.

*********

The buzz of the doorbell sliced through the quiet, startling me. I rushed from the bathroom, throwing on my nightie, my damp hair clinging to my neck. My heart pounded in my chest. "Who could be here at this hour?'

When I opened the door, the breath caught in my throat.

There, slouched and worn, stood Mr. Greystone-my ex-father.

Two months had passed since I left home. Two months since I walked out of the life I'd known for nineteen years. They hadn't fought to keep me. They'd replaced me with someone new-a daughter they actually wanted. Not one phone call. Not one message.

Now, seeing him here on my doorstep, I felt a strange detachment, like I was dreaming.

He looked... different. His once-proud shoulders slumped, and the grey in his hair had spread like ivy. Deep lines carved into his face made him seem older, weaker. If I hadn't known better, I might have mistaken him for a man lost to the streets.

But I knew him too well. Mr. Greystone was not a man who lost control.

"Come in," I said stiffly, stepping aside.

He shuffled into the living room, the weight of his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. I followed, watching him sink into the couch, his hands clutched tightly in his lap as if holding himself together.

[Flashback]

I could still hear his voice from that day, echoing in the back of my mind:

"Emma, we still love you. No matter what, you'll always be our daughter."

The words had felt like a performance, rehearsed and hollow. He said it because he had to, not because he meant it.

The woman I had called "Mom" tried to repeat his words, but her voice wavered, uncertain. For a moment, I'd felt the ache of her sorrow, but it wasn't enough. It was too late.

She knew. She'd known from the beginning. She knew about the abuse-how it started the moment Mr. Greystone found out I wasn't his biological daughter. She knew how each strike left bruises I had to hide, how he took out his anger on me when I dared to step in Monica's way.

And she stayed silent.

The abuse only ended the day I fought back. The last time his hand swung at me, I struck first-and harder. That was when I knew I couldn't stay.

I left without looking back, but not before catching the fury in his eyes. His jaw clenched so tight it seemed like it would snap. It wasn't just anger-it was hate. I was a stain on the family, one they couldn't wait to wash away.

[Present Day]

I ushered him inside and waited no second to ask my burning questions "What are you doing here? Sir?", I asked, emphasising on the word 'Sir'.

His grey hair had increased from the last time I saw him. He looked so stressed and fine lines had begun to form on his face. If not because of my relationship with him and knowing that he is wealthy, He could have passed for a homeless man.

He opened his mouth to reply, butonly a sigh escaped his lips.

Whatever that could have landed him in this state is something serious.

I watched him sit, at this point, I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I can't just ask him to leave without asking for an explanation.

In the kitchen, I poured a glass of water, the faucet hissing softly as I tried to steady my thoughts. I didn't know what I expected from him-an apology? An excuse? I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear it.

When I returned, he was still hunched on the couch, staring blankly ahead. I placed the glass in front of him and sat down across from him, forcing my voice to stay even.

I must have been so deep in my thoughts that I didn't hear him walk into the kitchen. I only felt a small sting behind my neck, making me turn around to face him.

A strange unease crept over me. Something wasn't right.

'Sit so we can talk, at least you need to tell me why you are here and looking like this.' I said instead, standing up to pull out a chair for him.

'Emma,' he called. 'I'm so sorry, please forgive me.' He said.

The apology hit me like a punch to the gut, I sighed. I wanted to tell him my mind to scream out my anger at their betrayal, to tell him how much I wanted them to ask me to stay, but I couldn't.

I realised my body system was too weak to generate power to my mouth.

'Fa...th...er?' I called, looking up at him with confusion evident in my eyes. I noticed his eyes were glistening with tears.

I blinked, my vision swimming as the room tilted. The air felt heavy, pressing against my chest like a vice. From the shadows, two figures emerged-men in dark masks, their eyes cold and distant.

I tried identifying them, But the world around me grew hazy and my vision blurred.

Two dark masked men hovering around me were the last things I saw as I fell into the ground. My consciousness, slowly slipping away."