My Stepbrother Wants Me

Chapter 220: A Wife Is Supposed To Be Submissive

Catherine’s POV

The air in the room didn’t just feel heavy; it felt electrified, the kind of tension that makes your skin crawl before a lightning strike. I stood between Julian and Gabriel, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack. My face throbbed, the bruise Lucy had gifted me blooming into a dull, pulsing heat that seemed to keep time with my pulse.

Beside me, Julian was a wall of tense muscle. His jaw was so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. I knew him—I knew that when he got this quiet, he was seconds away from a total eclipse of his restraint.

"Lucy! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare to refer to Catherine as a lowlife stepdaughter, you miserable, spoilt brat!" ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

The outburst didn’t come from Julian. It didn’t come from Gabriel. It came from the doorway, from the one person in this house who had spent every single day perfecting the art of being a shadow.

My mother.

I froze. Julian and Gabriel both shifted, their eyes widening in a rare moment of unified shock. My mother was standing there, her chest heaving, her hands trembling so violently she had to clench them into the fabric of her nightgown. For the first time in my life, she wasn’t looking at the floor. She was looking directly at Lucy, and for a split second, the terrified woman I knew was replaced by a mother who had finally reached her breaking point.

Lucy’s mouth hung open, a sharp, indignant gasp escaping her throat. She looked at my mother like she was a piece of furniture that had suddenly developed the ability to scream.

"What did you just call me?" Lucy hissed, her voice dropping into a low, venomous octave. She looked toward Richard, expecting him to swat my mother back into silence, but Richard was still, his eyes narrowed as he watched the hierarchy of his household fray at the seams. He was also shocked to see Lisa raise her voice for the first time.

"You heard me," my mother snapped. The fear was still there—I could see it in the way her knees shook—but her voice was high and sharp with a maternal instinct she had buried under layers of submissiveness. "You come into this house as a guest, you force your way into rooms where you aren’t wanted, and you think you can talk to my daughter like she’s beneath you? You’re the one acting like a common street fighter, Lucy. Not her."

"Richard!" Lucy shrieked, her face contorting with a mix of rage and disbelief. Why the hell was she calling Richard? Did she really think he would ditch his wife and side her? In her stupid dreams! "Are you going to let her speak to me like that? This... this woman? Do you see how they’re all ganging up on me? First her daughter, then your sons, and now this housewife?"

Wow!

"She isn’t a housewife, Lucy. She’s Richard’s wife," I stepped forward, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. I couldn’t let my mother stand there alone. "And everything she said is true. You’re obsessed, you’re entitled, and you’re a liar."

Lucy’s face turned a blotchy, ugly red. She stepped toward my mother, her fingers curling into claws. "A liar? I’m the one who belongs here! I’m the one with the name and the bloodline! Your mother is nothing more than a glorified placeholder who sold herself into wealth just to keep you from living in the gutter. You’re both parasites!"

The word ’parasite’ hadn’t even finished leaving Lucy’s lips before my mother moved. It wasn’t a calculated move; it was a desperate, emotional reflex.

Crack.

The slap echoed through the room like a firecracker. Lucy’s head snapped to the side, her hair falling over her face in a chaotic mess. The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the air leave my lungs. Julian and Gabriel remained frozen, their eyes darting toward Richard.

Richard’s reaction was instantaneous. He didn’t roar. He didn’t scream. He moved with a cold, predatory speed that was far more terrifying.

He lunged forward and grabbed my mother’s arm, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising force. He jerked her toward him, nearly pulling her off her feet. "What did you do that for?!" His voice rose.

"Richard, wait—" I started, stepping toward them, but he shot me a look so lethal it felt like a physical blow.

"Enough!" He backed the yelled out word with a low, guttural growl. His eyes refused to shift to Lucy, who was now clutching her cheek and sobbing with a renewed, theatrical vigor. His focus was entirely on my mother. "What the heck came over you? Why did you hit her? In my presence! You hit my guest right before my eyes." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

I blinked, a way to make those words disappear from my head. What the fuck was he insinuating? His guest can insult his wife but his wife can’t bite back? No way, this had to be a joke.

"She was insulting my daughter, Richard and you said nothing," my mother whispered, the fire in her eyes vanishing instantly. The "backbone" she had found just seconds ago shattered like glass. She looked small again, fragile and broken under his grip. "I couldn’t just stand there."

He looked at Lucy, who was watching through her fingers with a smug, watery grin. Even though Lisa had struck her, Richard’s choice was clear. He didn’t care about the insult to his wife; he cared about the asset he had chosen for his son.

"You will stand where I tell you to stand, and you will say what I tell you to say!" Richard hissed, shaking her slightly. He looked over her head at the rest of us, his gaze lingering on Julian and Gabriel with absolute malice. "You think because my sons have decided to play hero for a night that you have a voice in this family? You are a wife and a wife is supposed to submit to her husband, not make rash decisions because of her emotions."

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I scoffed. "Are you kidding us right now?"

He ignored me and turned to his chosen one. "Go to your wing, Lucy," his voice was softer for her. "I will have a maid bring you ice. We will discuss the ’reparations’ for this insult in the morning."

Lucy nodded, shooting me a look of "I-told-you-so" as she slunk out of the room, playing the part of the wounded victim to the very end.

Richard turned his attention back to my mother, his grip on her arm not loosening an inch. "As for you... go to the room. Now. Do not speak. If I hear another sound out of you tonight, I will make sure the ’charity’ I provide for Catherine’s tuition is revoked by sunrise."

My mother’s face went ash-gray. She didn’t look at me. She couldn’t. She just nodded, her head bowed as Richard marched her out of the suite like a prisoner. He didn’t look back at us, but the message was loud and clear: he still held every single card.

The door to the suite clicked shut, leaving Julian, Gabriel, and me in the wreckage. The silence was heavy, suffocating under the weight of my mother’s defeat.

I sank onto the edge of Julian’s bed, my head in my hands. I felt sick. My mother had finally tried to stand up for me, and within minutes, Richard had crushed her back into the dirt.

"Catherine," Julian’s voice was soft. He sat beside me, his hand hovering near my shoulder before he finally let it rest there.

"What is that animal going to do to my mom? Will he hurt her?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "Is he going to make her pay for that slap?"

"No, he isn’t," Gabriel was the one who answered, his voice hard. "Richard might be a cruel bastard but I know he is not the type to lay his hand on a woman, especially with his political standing."

I looked up at him. Gabriel was standing by the window, looking out at the darkened grounds where the security lights were already sweeping back and forth. I really hoped he was right.

With a painful swallow, I muttered, "let’s leave now. Kiera is waiting."