THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: Marry To Rival's Son novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Mia’s voice was calm but clipped. “Just wanted to let you know we’re back,” she said, standing at the doorway where Mose and Stefan sat.

She looked at him for just a second longer, then turned away, walking down the hallway without another word. Elena followed suit, her silence more scathing than any insult she could’ve thrown.

The door didn’t slam, but it might as well have.

Mose made to rise, eyes flicking to Elena’s retreating figure, but Stefan held up a hand without looking at him.

“Let them go,” he said, his voice low. “They need space… chasing after them won’t fix anything.” Mose hesitated for a heartbeat, then dropped back into his seat, frustrated but quiet.

Upstairs, Elena followed Mia into her room. The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence inside wrapped around them like a heavy blanket. They both sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders brushing but no words

passing between them for a long moment.

Then Elena turned. “Are you okay?”

Mia’s expression barely shifted. She gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. I mean, Stefan was right, wasn’t he? Our marriage is just business. Nothing more can come out of it.”

She tried to sound indifferent, she even laughed quietly at the end. But Elena didn’t miss the way Mia’s hands curled against the comforter.

“You?” Mia asked after a beat, looking sideways. “You alright?”

Elena offered a small nod. “I’m fine. Me and Mose… we’re nothing, so there’s nothing to be fine or not fine about.” Mia gave another silent nod.

Eventually, they both retreated to their respective rooms.

Sometime later, a knock came at Mia’s door. She had just stepped out from the shower, her damp hair clinging to her skin. She wrapped herself in a robe and opened the door slightly to see a house help standing outside.

“Dinner is ready, ma’am.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” Mia said, then closed the door and pulled on something simple but elegant, nothing revealing, just comfortable. She made her way to Elena’s room and knocked softly.

Elena opened the door mid-dressing. “You ready?” Mia asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Then they walked down the stairs together, they didn’t do anything, so there’s no reason to act like they did.

The dining room was quiet. Mose and Stefan were already seated at the long table, their eyes immediately lifting as the women entered. Mia and Elena greeted them like they were strangers.

They took their seats, one across from Stefan, the other from Mose. Plates clinked, glasses were poured, the only sound was the cutlery brushing against ceramic.

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37 STEFAN’S MOTHER IS ALIVE?

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Mose glanced at Stefan across the table, their eyes met briefly, Mose raised a brow as if silently asking What now?

Stefan only shrugged and returned to his food, distant and cold. Like whatever happened wasn’t connected to him.

He needed this space, he told himself. This silence, it was better this way. Because whatever that thing was he was starting to feel when Mia smiled, or frowned, or walked into a room, it needed to be shut down before it spiraled. He wasn’t built for love, especially not with someone like her.

Across the table, Mia and Elena kept her eyes on her plate, forcing each bite down without tasting a thing.

The mansion was quiet as always, the kind of silence that carried weight, unsaid words and buried emotions that had stretched into its seventh day.

The girls had perfected the art of avoidance. Mia and Elena moved like shadows through the hallways, never once acknowledging the presence of the men they used to laugh with. Their conversations were reduced to work -related sentences, stripped of any emotion or warmth.

It was as if they’d returned to being strangers under the same roof. Stefan and Mose noticed but said nothing, seems like everyone was used to the silence now.

That morning, the knock on her door came just after sunrise. She opened it to find one of the housemaids standing there with her hands folded neatly in front of her apron.

“Mr. Stefan said you should get dressed. He said it’s important.”

Mia raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The maid offered no further explanation before disappearing down the hallway.

Important? She almost scoffed.

It wasn’t like they were on speaking terms, he hadn’t said a word to her that wasn’t about work or dinner etiquette in a week, and now he was summoning her like one of his boardroom assistants?

Still, curiosity tugged at her.

She pulled open her closet, choosing a simple but elegant dress, something modest yet stylish. No heels, no makeup, and her hair was swept up loosely, for comfort.

He was waiting by the car when she stepped outside. Tall, handsome, unreadable as always. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare her a glance. Just held the door open for her like a gentleman programmed to be there.

The silence in the car was stifling, heavy, and suffocating,

She kept her gaze fixed on the window, refusing to be the first to break the silence. She didn’t ask where they were going, and he didn’t offer it.

Twenty minutes passed, then thirty, then an hour. The city disappeared behind them.

They crossed into rural outskirts, where trees arched over long winding roads and everything felt quieter…

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darker. Something unsettling began crawling beneath her skin.

Mia sat up straighter when she saw the gate. A towering building stood before them, sterile white, the gate marked with a sign that sent shivers down her spine:

St. Margeret Psychiatric Hospital.

Private Access Only

An asylum.

Mia’s heart skipped, her stomach twisted. She turned sharply to look at Stefan, but his face remained stoic, eyes glued ahead.

They didn’t stop at the front. Instead, the car curved along the side of the building, past well-kept gardens and an auxiliary block, until it stopped at a smaller entrance, one clearly not open to the public.

A man was already waiting. He opened the gate, bowed slightly, and stepped aside to let them through.

Mia’s pulse was racing now. Why are we here? But still, she said nothing.

They stepped into a quiet corridor with cold gray floors and faint lights that buzzed overhead, It smelled like antiseptic and sadness.

Within moments, a doctor emerged, clipboard in hand, a warm if slightly nervous smile on his face. He was in his early fifties, hair graying at the temples, eyes tired but kind.

“Mr. Stefan,” the man said with surprising reverence. “It’s good to see you again. She’s been quiet lately, unusually quiet.” Stefan gave a small nod, but Mia noticed the way his fists clenched at his sides.

The doctor motioned toward a corridor. “She’s in her room. We moved her last week to the west wing, just to give her more privacy.” Then they began walking again.

Mia stayed a step behind Stefan, observing him. This wasn’t the cold CEO she was used to. His jaw was clenched tight, shoulders rigid, eyes almost haunted.

For the first time since she met him, Stefan looked like he was somewhere he didn’t want to be. And then, they stopped at a door. Stefan hesitated, just for a second.

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