The Billionaire's Ultimate Challenge

Chapter 3:

Ricard, impatient, cast a glance at Mrs. Taylor. “Housekeeper, take the young lady back to her room.”

His words, devoid of warmth, made Mrs. Taylor’s body tremble. She hurried to Abigail’s side and said, “Abigail, let me help you back to your room.”

Finally, Abigail, engulfed in sorrow, regained her composure and slowly stood up. She glanced at Ricard, who gave her an unusual look before she lifted her feet to leave the room.

Following him, she took a quick step. Her room was on the third floor; though it usually took less than a minute to reach, today it seemed to take several minutes. On the third-floor stairs, Ricard turned to her once more. “Housekeeper, you don’t need to follow. Go attend to your duties.”

“Yes, Master,” Mrs. Taylor replied, descending the stairs and leaving Abigail, who was at a loss.

The unique decoration of Abigail’s bedroom showcased a classic and demure European style from the previous century, while also exuding a gloomy and eerie vibe.

The time was two o’clock in the afternoon, and the curtains remained undrawn. The harsh sunlight peeked through, forming a halo over Ricard’s head. Ricard disliked this bright feeling, so he walked to the window and drew the thick curtains shut before sitting on a small sofa by the window.

He liked the peculiar scent on the sofa, without knowing why, but he knew it belonged to her. Abigail stood at the door, head lowered, not daring to step forward.

Seeing her hesitation, Ricard narrowed his eyes slightly and beckoned with his finger. “Come here!”

Though the words were simple, they sounded like poison from his mouth, and Abigail felt a sudden fear. She took hesitant steps, her head still bowed, not daring to look at him.

When they were less than a step apart, Ricard lifted his hand, swiftly pulling Abigail into his arms, licking the delicate edge of her ear. The little girl in his arms trembled slightly, not daring to resist, only able to curl up, motionless, against this dangerous man’s firm chest.

After licking for a while, he gently placed her on his lap, his tongue leaving her ear to trace her face. Abigail had grown used to his actions, though it still sent chills through her body each time. Since she understood, she had never left the island, never met her parents, and was aware that her brother was very unusual.

No, to be precise, not her brother, but her fiancé.

She had heard the term ‘fiancé’ from Mrs. Taylor when she was seven and had naively asked, “Mrs. Taylor, what is a fiancé? Why is Ricard my fiancé?”

Just as Mrs. Taylor was about to explain, the door was kicked open, and Ricard appeared in a black suit. He said nothing, and Mrs. Taylor sensibly left, leaving the two of them alone.

“Abigail.” He strolled toward her, suddenly kissing her lips and saying, “Only a fiancé can do this to you. When you grow up...” His eyes roamed her body, his ringed finger caressing her cheek. After a moment, he continued, “When you grow up, you will be my wife, the true mistress of this place, understand?”

At seven years old, she couldn’t understand quickly, but she dared not shake her head, only stupidly nodded. Later, Mrs. Taylor frequently told her stories about men and women, and she gradually understood that men and women, when they grew up, would marry and have children.

In truth, her mind, like Ricard’s, was more mature than her age.

“Abigail.” His sinister yet gentle voice brought her back from her memories. She realized her dress’s zipper had been undone, exposing her bare back to the cool air. In her memory, Ricard had held her and kissed her, but had never undressed her. Startled, she jumped off his lap and backed away, saying, “Ricard, I’m cold!”

“Come here.” Ricard’s eyes flashed, his face betraying no emotion.

Knowing his temperament, Abigail stepped forward a few steps, standing in front of him. “Ricard, I’m cold. Please don’t do this,” she pleaded.

Ignoring her plea, he leaned back, playing with his fingers.

“You want to go to school?” After a moment of silence, he spoke coldly.

Abigail recognized that all on the island were her people. If she had any thoughts or spoken carelessly, it would be reported back to him. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t go to school like other children, meet friends, and instead had to bear the title of “fiancée.”

At eight years old, an age meant for pure childhood, why could she only live this abnormal life on the island?

“I want to go to school.” After careful consideration, she nodded in response.

“Don’t you already have private tutors here?” Ricard knew he hadn’t treated her badly, spending a lot of money to hire top tutors for her. So why wasn’t she satisfied?

“I want to go to school, learn from the same teachers as other children.” Abigail’s naïve and simple idea unknowingly touched on a forbidden subject for someone.

A bitter laugh echoed in her ears, the source of the laugh still seated on the sofa, with a smile that seemed dark and ominous, as if its cold breath could engulf her if she wasn’t careful.

“It seems you still don’t understand your status.” The statement made Abigail shiver. She knew her status well, but still didn’t understand why being his fiancée meant she couldn’t go to school.

In the past, when Ricard clung to her, Grandfather would use his authority to say, “Ricard, Abigail is still young. When she grows up, you can do whatever you want with her, and I won’t interfere.”

While Grandfather was alive, Ricard somewhat restrained himself, but now that he was gone, who knew what would happen. As she stood there, bewildered, Ricard stood up, hands in his coat pockets, slightly parting the curtains to peer outside with a deep gaze.

“Go to school? Impossible. But in a few days, during your grandfather’s funeral, you can temporarily leave here and see your parents whom you’ve never met.”