Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 256

Chapter 256: Chapter 256: I know you want answers

Agnes shoved at Eric’s chest and tried to dart past him, but he caught her wrist with unnerving speed.

She was trembling, too drained to fight back. In a heartbeat, Eric had lifted her off her feet and flung her over his shoulder, carrying her down the hall as though she weighed nothing.

“Let me go!” she gasped, pounding weakly against his back.

He didn’t answer. His silence was worse than shouting.

The bedroom door slammed shut. Eric tossed her onto the mattress with brutal ease, his bloodshot eyes blazing with sleepless rage. Agnes scrambled back, her heart hammering when he began ripping open his shirt, muscles taut and trembling with fury.

“What are you doing?” she stammered, pressing herself against the headboard.

Eric’s voice was flat, empty, almost inhuman. “Making sure you never forget who you belong to.”

The deadpan tone made her breath catch. This wasn’t the Eric she thought she could manage—this was something darker, far more dangerous.

Before she could escape, his hand clamped around her ankle. He yanked her forward and flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her with merciless strength.

“Eric—please!” she cried, her voice cracking. She struggled, but his hold was iron, unyielding.

“You dare raise your hand against me?” His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, his tone venomous, almost calm in its cruelty. “Do you think I’ll forgive that? Do you think I’ll ever let you walk away?”

“I—I’m sorry! I won’t do it again—please!” Agnes sobbed, her body trembling beneath him.

But Eric was too far gone. His fury had nothing to do with her. She could feel it in the way his grip shook, in the way his breath came ragged. This wasn’t about punishment—this was about Winter. About Kalix.

Seeing them together, seeing Winter smile in someone else’s arms, had hollowed him out. Now all that remained was rage—and Agnes was the one left to endure it.

“Shut up!” Eric roared, his voice cracking with raw fury. He held her down until her struggles stilled, until his breathing finally slowed.

But the malice in his eyes didn’t fade. Leaning over her trembling frame, he whispered, his words sharp enough to draw blood. “You don’t get to run, Agnes. Not until I’ve destroyed your family.”

Her tears slipped soundlessly down her cheeks, her body numb with fear. She had once believed she could control him, bend him to her will. But tonight shattered that illusion. Eric wasn’t a man—he was a storm, vicious and unpredictable, clinging to her only because of his malicious intent.

Agnes lay perfectly still until he finally rose and stalked out, the slam of the door leaving her in hollow silence.

Despite the pain coursing through her, despite Eric’s threats and the shadow of the man behind him, she refused to break. Not yet. Not when her family’s lives depended on her.

She would endure. She would survive.

And when the chance came—she would fight back.

***

[Inside the bathroom]

Winter stood beneath the steady stream of water, letting it cascade over her skin as if it could wash away the unease clinging to her. Yet the warmth did little to ease the weight pressing on her chest.

Her meeting with Dorothy replayed in her mind, every word unsettling, every pause loaded with unspoken truth. Questions spun in circles, each darker than the last, and no matter how she tried to reason them away, every path led to the same man—Eric Spencer.

Dorothy’s claim had been simple, yet chilling: Agnes was missing. And worse—Eric was hiding it.

The thought alone made Winter’s stomach twist.

Bracing her palms against the cool tiles, she lowered her head as the water streamed down her shoulders. She willed herself to calm, to breathe, to hold herself together—but even the silence of the shower could not quiet the storm in her chest.

It’s not my concern, she told herself. I did my part. I gave Dorothy what she wanted.

But the thought rang hollow. Something about it all felt wrong.

By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a robe, her damp hair trailing over her back, her eyes instinctively searched the room for Kalix.

“Maybe he’s still with Selene,” she muttered, a flicker of disappointment lacing her voice. She crossed to her wardrobe and began pulling out clothes, clinging to the rhythm of small, ordinary actions to keep her thoughts from spiraling.

But just as she finished dressing, a sharp knock on the door cut through the silence. Her heart lifted—perhaps it was Kalix.

It wasn’t.

James stood there, holding a file in his hands. “Madame, Mr. Sean stopped by to deliver this to the Young Master.” His tone was as calm and steady as always.

Winter accepted the file, offering a polite smile. “Thank you, James.”

The moment he left, she closed the door and glanced down at the folder. Her breath caught at the bold lettering stamped across the cover: David Greyson.

Her father’s name.

At first, she assumed it had to be merger-related. But then, just below, another name made her pulse quicken—Eric Spencer.

Her brows furrowed. A prickle of unease crawled up her spine.

With trembling hands, she flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the first page—then froze.

Her mind stalled.

The room tilted, and for a moment, the only sound was the violent pounding of her heartbeat.

Eric had been threatening her father. The documents detailed his intent to expose David’s role in the Hillstone building destruction. But it didn’t stop there—page after page revealed connections that made her skin run cold. Diana’s name was inked across several lines, tied directly to Eric’s schemes. Together, they had plotted far worse.

And one line, buried between signatures and coded notes, made her breath falter.

Eliminate Winter Greyson.

Her throat tightened. The pieces began to fall into place, the questions, the unease, the lingering shadows Eric had cast over her life. But what startled her most wasn’t the revelation itself—it was how much Kalix already seemed to know. Eric had been meticulous, ruthless in covering his tracks. So how had Kalix uncovered this much?

Confusion gnawed at her, but she read on until she reached one inescapable conclusion: Eric Spencer wanted to destroy the Greysons, piece by piece.

“So you finally found it.”

The voice snapped her head up. Winter startled, clutching the file as Kalix stepped into the room. His presence was quiet, but his gaze never left hers.

“How did you know all this?” Her voice wavered as she held up the file. “How could you possibly know what Eric has been hiding?”

Kalix’s eyes flicked to the folder, then back to her. His expression was calm, unreadable. “Because I planted it.”

The words landed like a thunderclap. Winter’s lips parted, but no sound came. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her pulse raced, her mind screaming with questions, but Kalix stood steady, his gaze anchored on hers.

“I know you want answers,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “And you’ll have them. But not all at once.”

His tone carried both promise and warning—one step at a time, one truth at a time.