My Hidden Mafia Husband

Chapter 2 A Man Without Pride

Soon enough, Fred returned with a basin of lukewarm foot-washing water and placed it in front of Joyce.

"Ms. Foster, here you are." Fred said, squatting in front of Joyce's slender legs, placing the basin down.

Joyce took her high heels off and lifted her delicate feet towards Fred. She said with a condescending tone, "Wash them."

"Me? Wash your feet?" Fred hesitated for a moment as he looked at Joyce's feet.

Seeing Fred's expression, Joyce raised her lips slightly and coldly snorted, "Why? If you won't, then get out!"

"Of course I want to, of course!" Fred nodded with a smile on his face. He felt excited. It seemed his efforts over the past month hadn't been in vain. This was the first time his wife had initiated physical contact, after all!

Joyce saw Fred's change in his face clearly. She had thoroughly seen through this man. For money, he was willing to do anything!

A man could be poor, but he couldn't lose his dignity!

In Joyce's view, Fred was the kind of man without pride. Such a man deserved to be humiliated! She deliberately raised her delicate feet as if commanding a servant, "Wash them."

Fred looked at them covering in black stockings. They were silky and smooth. He gently pulled them off.

After removing them completely, the feet were shown before Fred. They were soft and flawless, as if soaked in pure milk every day, just like a piece of art. Even the most critical person couldn't find any flaws.

Joyce leaned back on the sofa, her eyes filled with even greater disgust as she watched Fred, who was now massaging her feet. She had never imagined a man could stoop so low for money. It was utterly repulsive!

Just as Joyce was about to kick Fred away and ask him to get out, her phone rang, which interrupted her intentions.

It was a call from the company's secretary. After receiving the call, Joyce's brows furrowed tightly.

"Tell him not to daydream! The Foster Group wouldn't be pushed around!"

After saying that, Joyce tossed the phone aside and leaned back on the sofa, rubbing her forehead lightly with her fingers, feeling annoyed. She even forgot about kicking Fred away.

At this moment, a warmth spread from the soles of Joyce's feet upwards along her perfect slender legs. The comfortable warmth calmed her mood, and even her tightly furrowed brows eased slightly.

Fred gently placed Joyce's feet into the warm water, carefully massaging them. As he glanced up, he noticed the furrowed brows on Joyce's face. When he recalled the phone call she had just answered, he felt angry.

Who dared to upset her? Who dared!

This was the first time Fred had seen Joyce in such a state. He had known her since he was five years old.

When Fred was five, he and his mother nearly froze to death on the streets in winter. Joyce stepped down from her father's car, handing Fred a padded coat and 20 dollars. That coat got Fred and his mother through the winter, and the 20 dollars allowed Fred to buy medicine for his mother's fever.

When Fred was seven, he suffered food poisoning from eating spoiled food from a dumpster. The Foster family's charitable organization funded the treatment, saving six homeless children, including Fred.

At the age of ten, Fred attended the public school established by the Foster family, while his mother found a job as a janitor at the school.

When Fred was fourteen, his mother was diagnosed with malignant cancer. To avoid burdening Fred, she left a suicide note and jumped from the seventh floor.

In her note, Fred's mother told him to repay the Foster family's kindness. Without them, Fred would have died on the streets at the age of five, let alone received an education.

The Foster family saved Fred's life twice. Fred had long ago sworn to himself to repay their kindness in this lifetime. And the girl who gave him the padded coat when he was five seemed like an angel, attracting Fred.

Fred remembered that he had only seen her sweet smile, but never her frown.

Fred was massaging Joyce's feet. He was skilled in massage, relieving Joyce's fatigue. His control over pressure was unmatched, even by professional doctors.

Unconsciously, Joyce's entire body relaxed, lazily sinking into the spacious sofa. She was indeed too tired, and the comfort from her feet brought on drowsiness.

Half reclined on the soft sofa, which caused her buttons open slightly. With a mere glance, Fred could see Joyce's flat abdomen through the gaps.

Joyce was completely unaware, comfort from her feet and mental fatigue leading her into sleep. Her messy black hair scattered against the sofa's backrest. She looked like the sleeping beauty fromt the fairy tale.

Fred meticulously massaged Joyce's feet. Most people would experience numbness in their legs after maintaining a crouched position for over fifteen minutes, but Fred crouched for over half an hour. He gently drying Joyce's feet and slowly placing them back on the sofa, then fetching a blanket to cover her.