Alivia Hurley's situation couldn't be hidden any longer.
So, Horace and I didn't get rid of her.
Instead, early the next morning, we moved her back to the bed, making sure her body was lying on the edge.
As for the lamp hanging above the bed, before I had even realized what was going on, Horace had somehow used a farming tool to break it.
The lamp was said to be very expensive and heavy.
It fell straight onto the bed, and I figured it could have knocked someone out cold.
By the time morning came and someone found us, I was still "unconscious," lying on the floor.
When I "woke up," Lady Wutherspoon arrived with several people, checking the glass of juice that still had remnants in it.
With the footage from before the camera was destroyed, the truth began to piece together.
Someone had clearly tried to harm her precious son, and Lady Wutherspoon, furious, slapped Alivia Hurley across the face.
"What are you? How dare you touch my son? You don't even deserve to shine his shoes!"
In the end, she had Alivia sent to the police station.
As for me, Lady Wutherspoon withheld a whole month's wages from me, citing my negligence in taking care of Horace.
My heart bled.
But then, after saying that in front of everyone, she turned and pulled me into Horace's room, handing me another check.
"Clara Monroe, I know you're a good girl. I won't kick you out. As long as you listen to me, take good care of Horace, and report anything that happens to him immediately, I promise I will reward you handsomely."
She was trying to buy me off with money.
Naturally, I agreed without hesitation.
After giving me her instructions, Lady Wutherspoon received a phone call and hurriedly left, not even sparing a glance at the "unconscious" Horace.
The old security footage had been destroyed, and the new one hadn't arrived yet.
So, once Lady Wutherspoon was gone…
Horace sat up from the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. His face, usually full of arrogance, was now a bit despondent. When he saw me staring at him, he forced a smile.
But it was a smile laced with bitterness.
"Clara, do you think I'm ridiculous?"
"Everyone thinks I, Horace, have such a good life, being born into the Wutherspoon family."
Is it really so great?
I silently thought this to myself but dared not speak it out loud.
Horace paused, then glanced at me. "Don't think I don't know you're cursing me in your mind."
Well, that was awkward.
I'd been caught.
"Go on, keep talking."
I gave him an awkward smile and covered my mouth in self-consciousness.
"They pamper me, spoil me, never scold me no matter what mistakes I make."
"And my big brother, from childhood to now, has been treated harshly. He's taught to learn how to manage the family business, while I'm expected to just be happy and carefree."
"Yeah, they just want me to stop competing with big brother."
"Well, I won't compete, then."
"She's my mother. If she wants something, shouldn't I give it to her as her son?"
"Ha…"
"To pave the way for big brother, they even tampered with the brakes on my car. Do you think she really hates me this much?"
Horace, who had always been so brash, now had tears in his eyes. He curled up on the bed like an abandoned dog, utterly helpless and desperate.
He let out a low, hollow laugh.
"It's normal for her not to like me. After all, who would like the son of a rapist?"
As for the Wutherspoon family matters…
During the time I was with him, I'd heard bits and pieces.
For example, Lady Wutherspoon and Mr. Wutherspoon were childhood sweethearts.
Their love didn't fade even after they got married and had children. But one year, Lady Wutherspoon suddenly fell gravely ill while pregnant with Horace. She had wanted to abort him but couldn't due to her health.
That illness lasted for a very long time, only starting to subside when Horace was almost one year old.
The rest of the world didn't know the reason.
But I had been with Horace long enough to piece together enough information to understand something.
That is, Horace shouldn't have been born a Wutherspoon.
As for whose child he really was, no one knew.
The person was arrested and now no one knows whether he's alive or dead. What's certain is that Mr. Wutherspoon truly loves Lady Wutherspoon, which is why he treats this child as his own. After all, the child shares half of Lady Wutherspoon's bloodline.
Lady Wutherspoon, in turn, gradually came out of her depression.
She treated this son just as equally.
In fact, she spoiled him to an extreme.
I used to think she had let go of her inner struggles, but now I realized she had always carried a deep-seated hatred in her heart.
The greatest pain in this world is probably being abandoned and betrayed by a loved one.
That kind of pain…
You can't turn around and hate decisively, it's like thousands of needles stabbing into your heart, but you still long for the slightest warmth.
My heart also ached, so I couldn't help but gently embrace him.
But then, he suddenly started laughing.
"Clara, why are you still so naive?"
"Do you really think I'd be upset because of a woman who tried to kill me?"
There was no sadness on his face, only mockery. He raised an eyebrow at me, acting carefree, and then took a bite of the cookie I had just brought him, nodding in approval."Not bad."
I just sat beside him, quietly keeping him company.
It was impossible not to care.
That wasn't just anyone—it was the woman he respected the most.
The one who had given him life, yet wanted to end her own life for the sake of another child.
It was a cruel irony, a deep tragedy.
If it were me…
If I could choose…
I wish I had never been born.
But before I could fully immerse myself in sorrow, the sound of the door handle turning suddenly rang out, sharp and clear.
Horace and I froze in unison.
After a quick exchange of glances, he immediately dropped the half-eaten cookie and pulled himself into the blanket. I quickly smoothed the blanket over him, only to discover there was still some pastry crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
I hurried to wipe it off.
As my hand touched his lips, Horace suddenly opened his eyes.
His dark pupils reflected my image.
We locked eyes.
My heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Horace, how dangerously handsome.
