CHAPTER 4
1485 Words
My heart sank, and I felt a bitter taste in my mouth.
"I'll get the money as soon as possible, don't worry. Just take care of mom."
I tried to reassure him, but my own worries were spiraling out of control. How was I going to come up with the money in time? I felt a surge of desperation and frustration, knowing that my mother's life hung in the balance.
After the call, I felt drained, like the weight of the world was crushing me. I trudged back to the brick house, trying to compose myself.
Hector was still sitting at the table, his food untouched. He looked up at me, his expression unreadable, and began eating mechanically.
I sat down across from him, struggling to hide my emotions. I didn't want him to suspect anything. I forced a weak smile and made small talk, trying to distract him.
"We're out of meat, so I just made some stir-fried vegetables. I'll buy some meat next time I go out."
My voice felt hollow, and I couldn't meet his gaze, fearing he'd see right through me.
Hector nodded indifferently, his expression still unreadable.
"Okay, no worries." I felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was humoring me.
I hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed, before suggesting, "Hector, have you ever thought about raising some chickens and ducks at home?"
I had been observing the surroundings of the brick house, noticing the small vegetable field and the uncultivated wasteland beyond.
I had heard rumors that Hector was idle and had no income, living off the Jones Family's leftover wealth.
I wondered if he would consider my suggestion, or if it would even make a difference.
I thought that since money was tight, it would be practical to raise some livestock like a real rural household.
That way, we could at least have meat to eat and avoid going hungry. But when I suggested this to Hector, he looked stunned, then frowned. He seemed put off by the idea. I realized he didn't want to be a rural farmer, and that I had inadvertently touched a nerve. His expression darkened, and he put down his bowl and chopsticks, his voice cold.
"Do you need money?" he asked, his question piercing through my thoughts.
I felt caught off guard, my breath catching in my throat. How did he always manage to pinpoint my weaknesses? I reminded myself to stay in character, to act like Ophelia, my stepsister, in front of him.
I hesitated, feeling guilty, and replied, "Of course not, I have money..."
My mind was still preoccupied with the 500,000 yuan dowry my father had promised, and the weight of my family's financial struggles.
I couldn't burden Hector with my problems; he didn't know about my mother's illness or my brother's situation.
I took a deep breath, composed myself, and added, "If you don't like the idea of raising chickens and ducks, we can forget it. I was just suggesting it."
Hector's piercing gaze seemed to see right through me, but he said nothing. Instead, he sighed inwardly, and his expression softened.
"If you want to raise them, do as you wish," he said lightly, his tone neutral. I sensed a hint of understanding in his voice, but I couldn't be sure.
I felt a wave of relief wash over me when Hector gave his permission. A genuine smile spread across my face, and I nodded solemnly, "Okay!" But my joy was short-lived, as Hector's expression turned serious, and he got up and left the room. I wondered what was on his mind.
XAYNE’S POV
I stepped outside, phone in hand, and sent a message to the mysterious number that had called earlier.
"The person who married into the Jones Family is not Ophelia. Find out who she is."
I attached a photo of my supposed wife , taken earlier when I was lifting weights in the courtyard. She was cutting vegetables in the kitchen, her face illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the thatched roof.
Her skin was porcelain-like, her expression serene, and her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. I had taken the photo on a whim, struck by her beauty. Now, it seemed, it would serve a purpose.
The response to my message came quickly: "Her name is Dahlia."
My eyes, dark as ink, lingered on the message before I turned to gaze at Dahlia, who was engrossed in something in the room.
I approached her quietly, asking, "What are you doing?" She was holding a hammer to fix a table leg but my sudden presence startled her, and she jerked, causing the hammer in her hand to slip.
The crooked nail struck her left thumb, and a bright red stream of blood burst forth. Dahlia gasped in pain, and I felt a pang of regret. I hadn't meant to frighten her, only to ask a question. I softened my tone, trying to reassure her, "Don't move."
DAHLIA’S POV
Hector swiftly turned around, retrieved gauze and alcohol from the cabinet, and strode over to me.
"Give me your hand," he instructed. I hesitated, feeling a bit aggrieved, and explained, "I was just trying to fix the table leg..."
My voice trailed off as I handed him my injured hand. Watching him expertly clean and bandage my wound, I couldn't help but feel a little dazed.
Why did he have medical supplies in his rural home? But then I remembered his boxing hobby and assumed it was for his own use.
As he worked, Hector scolded me, "If the table was broken, why didn't you look for me? You're a woman, you shouldn't be doing this kind of work."
Despite his rebuke, I sensed a hint of protectiveness and concern in his tone. My heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, the pain in my hand subsided.
I smiled, pointing to the broken table, "It's over there. I used to prop it up with a piece of wood, but it broke again."
Hector followed my gaze and spotted the makeshift support holding up the table leg. With a few swift motions, he picked up the hammer and nail and expertly fixed the leg.
I couldn't help but exclaim in genuine surprise, "Wow, you're amazing! You fixed it in one go!" I had struggled to figure out how to repair it earlier, and his effortless fix left me impressed.
Hector seemed taken aback by my praise, his eyes fixed on the newly fixed leg before shifting to me. A strange expression crossed his face, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of pride.
But then, his expression turned tense, and he strode out of the brick house without a word, leaving me wondering what had just happened.
Here's the paraphrased text in Dahlia's POV:
I couldn't help but giggle at Hector's awkward footsteps. When he heard my soft laughter, his steps became even more chaotic.
That night, Hector took the remaining thin quilt and laid it on the ground, leaving the soft, thick one for me. He slept alone with the tattered sheets, while I felt a pang of guilt.
Despite my hesitation, I couldn't bring myself to say, "Come sleep on the bed." Through the thin wooden wall, I could almost hear Hector's movements as he tossed and turned.
My mind was filled with thoughts. Hector was right; I wasn't used to having a husband, or even used to his presence in my life.
It seemed it would take time to adjust. As I pondered this, I slowly drifted off to sleep.
I woke up early, intentionally,before the sun had fully risen.
Three days had passed since the wedding, and according to tradition, i was expected to visit my family today.
Additionally, my father had pledged to give me a dowry of 500,000 yuan on this day. With my mother's illness and brother's situation urgent, I needed to collect the money from the Smith family as soon as possible to address my pressing needs.
Hector seemed to still be asleep, but as I carefully got out of bed, the wooden frame creaked, and he suddenly sat up, his gaze sharp and alert.
Seeing it was me, he relaxed, but I was surprised by his swift reaction. Was he always this cautious when sleeping? His skills and instincts seemed far from ordinary.
Since he was already awake, Hector tidied up his bedding and asked casually, "Why did you wake up so early?"
I explained, "I need to visit my mother's house today, as per custom. I have some matters to attend to."
Hector nodded, recalling the traditional procedures, but then said lightly, "I won't go with you."
I sensed a hint of reluctance, knowing that as a son-in-law, he would normally be expected to visit his mother-in-law's house with gifts. But given his situation with the Smith family , he likely felt it unnecessary.
- Writer
