"Take a good look at yourself, Irene, before making such claims. Do you really think my brother cares about you? Clearly, he doesn't, and you need to realise that," Theodore's voice grew darker, not because she called him by his name, but because she had the audacity to threaten him, something no one had ever done in his entire life. Irene's threat, using his own name against him, infuriated him even more, an act he found utterly disrespectful.
Irene knew deep down that Theodore was speaking the truth. Why would he care about her when he didn't even bother attending their wedding? He wouldn't care about her now either.
But she just wanted to intimidate him, to make him feel some shame. Even if his brother was disabled, Cyril had never shown any respect or care for Theodore, just like the rest of the Jones family treated her.
"Get this through your head, Irene. Theodore won't care about you, even if you die right here," Theodore's tone remained firm as he chuckled, offering a proposition. "But maybe, if you give me a chance, you might benefit from being married to a Myers. Financially or otherwise, I can provide for you." He found himself oddly amused by this situation, more entertained than he had ever been before.
This woman annoyed him, but she intrigued him as well. He couldn't deny that she pushed him to engage in conversation far more than he normally would.
"I don't need anything from the Myers family, Cyril. I just want you to leave my place. This apartment is mine, and I'm content with what I have. You already know I'm a replacement bride, so why waste your time on someone as unattractive as me?" Irene firmly rejected him, her tense expression revealing her hope that he would simply leave her alone.
It had been an exhausting day for Irene, and she longed for some peace. Her feet ached from the discomfort of running and walking in those unfamiliar and revealing shoes. She had never worn such attire before, as the Jones family had always provided her with different garments, especially for her stepsister, Misha. She despised wearing such outfits.
"That's not how it works. If I say you need something, then you do. You can't refuse me," Theodore persisted, unable to let go of the audacity Irene had shown him. People trembled before him, even without revealing his true identity. His mere presence was enough to shake them to their core. Yet she not only slapped him but also pushed him to his limits, proclaiming that she wanted nothing. It annoyed him to no end.
Was she trying to tell him that she didn't marry for money? Regardless of the Jones family's coercion, Theodore believed that blood showed its true colours without any prompting.
"I'm sorry. I apologise for slapping you. Isn't that why you're angry?" Irene finally realised the depths of her own pathetic state. She was prepared to beg for mercy, just as she had always done in the Jones family. However, she refused to compromise her virtue in such a manner. She wouldn't stoop so low.
She wouldn't betray her husband, even if their marriage was just a piece of paper. Her name was bound to Theodore, and she refused to engage in any dirty business.
Theodore kept his expression neutral, but he was surprised to see the fear and desperation in Irene's eyes. Her body trembled in his grasp, a sight he had once relished. But now, it didn't feel as enjoyable. He realised he couldn't continue scaring her like this when they could both find pleasure in other ways. Time was on their side; there was no need to rush everything today.
"Very well, how about doing something else to show your apology?" Theodore backed away, giving Irene some space. She slid down onto the floor, her beautiful white dress resembling that of an angel, despite her supposedly ugly face. Theodore could still see the underlying beauty that captivated him.
"I'm sorry. Please tell me what you want me to do as an apology, but please don't force me," Irene raised her tear-filled eyes, attempting to hold back her emotions but failing. It wasn't an easy task; she couldn't comply with everything demanded of her. She just wanted peace.
Today was the day every mother dreams of for their daughter, and Irene received it as a gift from her own mother, who cared more about pleasing her stepdaughter, Misha. She had always known her mother didn't truly care for her, but it still hurt to witness her betrayal. And now, this guy was ruining it all for her. She was already on the edge, walking a thin rope, and he was pushing her to fall, something she couldn't allow.
She wouldn't give up on her life, no matter how much she suffered or cried. She wouldn't surrender.
"Enough with this melodrama. Drama runs in your blood, doesn't it? Forget it. How about cooking something for me? A delicious meal might help me forgive you," Theodore's gaze remained fixed on Irene as she looked back at him with teary eyes. He could sense that if she blinked, tears would stream down her face. It was an image he found less pleasing.
Irene was confused. Why did he want her to cook? What was happening? She couldn't comprehend how he could act so normal, as if he hadn't done anything, calling her the drama when he was the one responsible for putting her in this anxious situation.
"Now you understand. I hate waiting," Theodore commanded as he walked and settled onto the small sofa in her shabby living room.
"Yes!" Irene stood up on her weak knees, feeling as if she would collapse again if she remained standing. "Go quickly," she hurriedly made her way to the kitchen, her heavy gown making it even harder for her. She didn't care about the strain on her body; all she wanted was to escape from Theodore's sight.
Theodore watched her, a small smile forming on his lips. She was undoubtedly the most foolish person he had ever encountered, but he had never met anyone who could stand up to him like she did. Most people trembled in fear at the mere thought of him, yet his own wife stood before him, not out of closeness, but out of a fear of being touched. He didn't particularly enjoy it, as he believed he had rights over her.
Yet, in some twisted way, he found it strangely endearing. She was oblivious to his true identity, as he had introduced himself as Cyril, just like everyone else. That way, no one would discover his real persona, a cripple hidden behind the mask he wore. It was all part of his plan, the plan he had been waiting to unfold since his childhood.
Irene's heart pounded against her chest, threatening to burst out at any moment. She placed a trembling hand on her chest, feeling the intense thumping, a physical manifestation of her fear. She desperately tried to steady her breath. This man, this dangerous man, was far more menacing than the entire Jones family combined. Her own homely apartment, once a safe haven untouched by the Jones family or anyone from her past, was now infiltrated by his presence. The fact that he had the audacity to give her orders, orders that did nothing to lift her spirits, only added to her discontent. Irene was not just disturbed; she was deeply unsettled. She longed to take control, to assert her power over him. But could she really do it? "Shit!" she cursed silently, her body relaxing slightly as she realised she was momentarily away from him. She knew she had to cook something for him. To hasten his departure from her life. Such a headache! Irene splashed water on her face, trying to gather her
Irene's heart raced in her chest, thumping louder than ever before. The relief she felt earlier, when she managed to distance herself from him, now faded away. The man was approaching her, his footsteps unmistakable, and she dreaded what was about to unfold. Fear consumed her, gripping her tightly as she realised the gravity of the situation. It was all too overwhelming for her to bear, and she knew deep down that there was nothing she could do to escape it. "This smells absolutely dreadful," Theodore commented, drawing near to Irene. He placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jolt back and meet his face, which loomed far too close for comfort. "Huh?" Irene's mind went blank as his words reached her ears. Should she react to his intrusive proximity or to the fact that he was degrading her cooking and calling it disgusting? As she looked upon her creation, she knew it might not be a culinary masterpiece, but it certainly didn't warrant such harsh criticism. "I said this foo
"Done," Irene muttered, pouring out her thoughts and hastily serving the spaghetti. It was no easy task, but she managed to complete it. She could sense he was deliberately trying to provoke her, and at this point, she realised that the more she reacted to his words, the more he would continue with his antagonistic attitude. So, why not simply do things that wouldn't offend him and give him the opportunity to get under her skin? "Fine, then bring the food. I'll be waiting outside," Theodore replied as he exited the kitchen and headed towards the living room, anticipating his meal. Irene couldn't believe her ears. Wasn't he here all this time? Why couldn't he just take his own food instead of ordering her around like this? He knew how to play these mind games, which were clearly unnecessary. If he couldn't even take care of his own food, what more could he possibly do in his life other than using her husband's name to intimidate her? She didn't even want to acknowledge Theodore as
"You cooked this yourself?" Theodore inquired, his voice laced with scepticism. Deep down, he wanted to believe that it was simply impossible for her to cook something this good. It seemed too coincidental that she had managed to create the most perfect spaghetti he had ever tasted, rivalling the dishes he enjoyed in five-star hotels. He struggled to trust his own taste buds. It wasn't easy for anyone to replicate his mother's cooking, and even if Irene had somehow accomplished it, he found it hard to believe. He searched for a reason to deny the fact that this dish actually tasted good. "Yes, I did," Irene responded, her face displaying confusion. What did he mean by asking if she had cooked it? Wasn't he present in the kitchen when she was in the middle of preparing it? His question seemed to contradict his own observation. Moreover, it was only the two of them in the house. Who else could have helped her cook? The accusation seemed nonsensical, especially since he hadn't lifted a
Irene's frustration reached its peak, and she realised she couldn't tolerate him anymore. Her patience had run out, and she no longer had the will to compromise. Though Irene wished to speak these words directly to his face, she knew he would completely ignore her and proceed with his absurd plan to frighten her by using her husband's name, which was nothing short of a complete disaster. "Don't worry too much; I won't do anything harmful... yet," Theodore chuckled, amused by Irene's behaviour. Even though she tried to hide her face, it was evident how repulsed she was, to the point of wanting to kick him out. Her expression mirrored her disgust. The disguise as Cyril gave Theodore a sense of satisfaction. It was a clever strategy he used whenever he wanted to wander incognito. Not many people knew his cousin Cyril, who lived overseas. This anonymity provided a comforting shield. "Cyril, it would be best if you left. This doesn't feel right. My landlord won't allow a guy to stay he
"I want to talk to him. Only then can you stay here. It's nearly morning, and I have classes in a few hours. I need some rest," Irene spoke sternly, emphasising her point. If he insisted on being so stubborn, she wouldn't go easy on him. He could display his obstinacy elsewhere, not when she was in dire need of sleep. Otherwise, she would become nothing more than a sleep-deprived zombie. "Who gave you permission to use that tone with Cyril Myers?" Theodore clenched his teeth, shooting her an angry look. In truth, he wasn't truly angry with her stubborn behaviour; annoyance was a more accurate description. Nevertheless, he wanted to feign anger, just as she was attempting to project false confidence. Irene felt intimidated by his piercing green eyes, brimming with anger, and his furrowed brow, which lent him a menacing aura. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to prevail in any argument within this room. "Furthermore, I have to work in a few hours. It would be best if we
Theodore's eyes narrow, his features contort with a mix of anger and worry. The standoff between them intensifies, emotions spiralling out of control. His mind races, torn between breaking down the door to ensure Irene's safety and respecting her desire for privacy."Enough! I won't leave until you open this door and let me in. I can't bear the thought of you hurt and in pain," Theodore's voice cracks, his words dripping with desperation and genuine concern.Inside the bathroom, Irene's resolve wavers. His words strike a chord deep within her, a reminder of the genuine care he holds for her well-being. But pride and a desire for independence still linger, creating a tumultuous inner struggle.A heavy silence descends upon them, each grappling with their own emotions and the weight of the situation. The atmosphere crackles with tension, their connection hanging in the balance.Minutes stretch into an eternity as they stand on opposite sides of the door, locked in a battle of wills. In
"I don't believe so," Theodore replied calmly, his voice tinged with an air of confidence. "You need to inquire about my identity. Deep down, we both acknowledge my right to be here. It is unquestionable because, my dear, I am now part of the family. You included in today"Drawing nearer to Irene, Theodore positioned himself directly in front of her. Tenderly, he took hold of her delicate hand with his larger one. Meanwhile, Irene made a feeble attempt to conceal her exposed décolletage(cleavage), a reflex action triggered by the touch of his fingers grazing her bare skin. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, leaving her in a state of partial numbness."Or perhaps you desire a reminder of who I truly am," Theodore murmured, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of desire and longing. With a single touch, Irene had the power to ignite a blazing inferno within him.Irene's breath caught in her throat at the unexpected mention of "sister-in-law." She could never have fathomed him add