I stopped abruptly.

Was I supposed to live here?

With... with him?

This—wasn't this all happening a bit too fast?

Despite everything, I had amnesia; I wasn't ready to share a bed with this man yet.

Xavier, who had been following behind me, put his hand on my waist and pulled me into his arms.

"If you don't want to, I can temporarily move to the study."

"Uh..."

The way he said it made me feel like an intruder, a cuckoo in the nest, driving the master of the house into his study.

"No, no need for that. Is there no guest room? Just give me any small room."

Unexpectedly, his answer was very blunt:

"No."

I was speechless.

Well, fine. I guess we would live together.

We were husband and wife, after all.

From that day on, the house was no longer so quiet.

The servants noticed that Xavier seemed to have returned to normal, and the funeral urn in the room had disappeared.

They weren't familiar with me, but they could tell I was an easy person to get along with.

That night, I dawdled in the bathroom, calling Mrs. Hannigan to confirm when she would be back.

Then I started chatting about random things, refusing to hang up.

Mrs. Hannigan was getting sleepy on the other end. Finally, she laughed and asked, "Clara, are you intentionally avoiding hanging up?"

Being caught, I felt a lump in my throat. I couldn't deny it.

"I’m... I’m staying in the same room as Xavier. I’m hiding in the bathroom because I don't want to go out."

Mrs. Hannigan’s sleepiness vanished instantly.

She laughed. No wonder I hadn't wanted to hang up.

"You can't just keep hiding. He is your husband, after all... and you’re just sharing a room. I don't think Mr. Riverton will... make things difficult for you."

We both knew exactly what "making things difficult" implied.

Even so, my face turned red.

I didn't want to think about those things. The idea of us lying in bed together was awkward enough, let alone anything further.

Moreover, that dream had left a shadow over me; I was truly terrified of such things.

"Don't be afraid. Try to face it."

"Okay."

Eventually, I chose to hang up. Gathering my courage, I turned the handle and walked out of the bathroom.

I was wearing conservative pajamas and cotton slippers, moving cautiously as I navigated the unfamiliar room.

Xavier was sitting on the sofa reading a book, his gaze flickering toward me every so often.

I had been in there for two hours; he had been sitting here reading for two hours.

I took tiny, shuffling steps toward the bed, preparing to lie down.

Then, Xavier slowly stood up and started walking toward me...

Chapter 19

I held my breath as I saw him walking toward me; my heart instantly leaped into my throat.

In a matter of seconds, he was standing before me, his slender fingers lightly brushing against my cheek.

My entire body was tense, and I didn't dare move a muscle. I felt like a robot, my expression completely stiff.

He couldn't help but let out a low, soft chuckle.

"Are you tired?"

His voice was deep and pleasant in my ear, resonating with the soul-stirring quality of a cello.

My ears burned, and I lowered my head to hide my nervousness. "Yes, I'm very sleepy."

"Get some rest early, then."

As he spoke, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

A bedtime kiss, and nothing more.

I was stunned, watching him turn and walk out of the room.

Wait...

He left?

I stayed where I was and waited for a while, but he didn't return.

I decided not to overthink it. It seemed he wouldn't be forceful with me again.

I couldn't help it; the incident at the hotel that day had left me with a lingering fear.

That night, I fell asleep shortly after lying down.

It was a quiet night, free of dreams.

The room had a special incense that aided sleep, which I found very helpful. When I woke up, it was already noon the next day.

I had slept for a long time, and the spot next to me remained empty.

He hadn't returned to the room all night.

After a quick wash, I dressed and left the room. I noticed the study door was slightly ajar, and someone was inside.

Feeling curious about whether he had actually spent the entire night in the study, I approached. Just as I was about to knock, I heard a conversation from within—

"President, how should we handle that woman?"

"Keep her locked up for now. Don't kill her."

"Understood."

I frowned. A woman... kill...

The word "kill" made my heart tremble.

Then, a man walked out of the study. I recognized him; he was his assistant.

The assistant saw me, nodded in greeting, and then departed.

I stood frozen in place for a long time, unable to process what I had heard.

Knowing he was inside, I no longer wanted to enter. I turned and went downstairs.

In the villa garden.

I wandered aimlessly through the grounds, noticing that many hibiscus flowers had been planted there.

Did he like hibiscus? Or was it his sister?

A servant nearby saw me staring blankly at the flowers and couldn't help but smile. "These are Madam's favorite flowers. Sir planted them himself over the years. Do you like them, Madam?"

"Pardon?"

I was surprised. My favorite flowers?

Was that so? Why did I feel absolutely nothing when looking at them?

"Do you not like them?"

A deep, somber male voice came from behind. I turned around to see him standing there; I hadn't realized when he had approached.

My eyelashes fluttered, and I instinctively nodded. I said something completely contrary to my feelings: "I love them. Hibiscus is my favorite."

Internal thought: Since he planted them with his own hands, it would be too hurtful to say I don't like them.

Perhaps the "old me" truly did love these flowers.

I looked at the hibiscus, my eyes darkening.

He stepped closer again, our bodies nearly touching.

I felt a pair of warm arms encircle me from behind—

"Tell me, what flowers do you like now?"

"..."

I felt helpless. Hadn't the servant just said that the old me liked hibiscus?

But clearly, he wasn't looking for that answer.

"I... I don't have a specific favorite flower right now. I feel that once the blooming season passes, the flowers wither. Beautiful things are too fleeting; I don't like that."

I preferred things that lasted, things that wouldn't fade.

Hearing this, his grip tightened slightly.

After a moment, I shifted my body to break free, turned to face him, and stammered, "Um... can I still continue my work as a model?"

"Of course. I told you I wouldn't interfere with your current life."

"As long as you ask, I can do anything for you."

I understood what he meant.

Becoming a top model would be a matter of a single word from him.

But naturally, I didn't want that. I wanted to become a top model through my own hard work, not by relying on others.

Just as I was about to decline, I heard his sister's voice.

"Ahem... I told you two it's fine to be all lovey-dovey in your room, so why come out here to torture me?"

I quickly took two steps back to maintain a distance from him.

He gave the intruder a cold look and then walked away.

I was left alone with his smirking sister.

Chapter 20

With the endorsement for her designs, my manager had already begun tailoring a work schedule for me.

In the past, we never needed this; we would just go wherever there was a show to crash.

Now...

My manager was laughing triumphantly. "Now that the news is out, you're Mrs. Riverton and the lead model for this collection. Look at the headlines; every single one is about you."

I smiled faintly. One's identity is something that cannot be changed.

Now that I had reclaimed my identity, my entire lifestyle had been upended.

To be honest, I wanted to be a top model, but I didn't want to be this high-profile.

However, my manager was right about one thing: as his wife, it would be difficult to keep a low profile even if I wanted to.

But I was still very curious—how did I marry him in the first place?

And what about my family? To be able to marry someone like him, my family background shouldn't have been too bad, right?

That evening, I went straight to his study. No longer hiding anything, I asked him directly about my parents.

To my shock, the answer I received was that they had passed away in an accident.

Hearing this, a wave of inexplicable sorrow surged within me alongside the shock.

Seeing my reaction, he took the opportunity to pull me into an embrace.