He Covered for My Parents' Killer, Then Lost Me

Chapter 4

Whenever she was on an IV drip, William would carry her to the bathroom in his arms.

When she could not sleep, he would sit by her bed and tell her stories.

Once, when she suddenly felt sick and had to throw up, he even caught it with his bare hands.

The nurses at the hospital all said William was hopelessly in love with her.

But only Freya knew the truth. Everything William did was either to protect Greta or to make himself feel a little better.

The only thing it was not, was love.

Five days later, Freya was discharged from the hospital and returned home.

But the moment she walked in, she saw Greta and Henry sitting on the living room sofa watching television.

Greta, still in her high heels, had trampled dirt all over the brand-new cashmere rug Freya had just bought.

The clay figurine William had made for her with his own hands had been turned into a trash can by Greta.

And Henry had actually used their wedding photo as a drawing board, scrawling three huge words across Freya's smiling face: b***h!

Freya's heart tightened sharply.

"Why are you here?"

Greta curled her red lips into a smug smile.

"Your mother died in the house I used to live in. It's bad luck now. The new villa William bought for me is still being cleaned, so I can only stay here for the next few days. After all, this is also the home of my son's father. It's perfectly reasonable for me to move in, isn't it?"

She looked at Freya, her eyes full of provocation.

"Of course, if Freya doesn't agree, I suppose I'll just have to go find my ex-husband. He just got divorced overseas, and he's been pestering me nonstop, begging me to remarry him."

Freya immediately felt the hand gripping her wrist tighten all at once.

When she looked up, she saw that William's jaw was clenched hard and his gaze had turned cold.

He was jealous.

In the next second, William said icily, "She agrees. You and Henry can stay as long as you want."

When he saw that Freya said nothing, he turned to look at her again.

"Freya, you've always been good at taking care of people. While Greta and Henry are staying here, I'll have to trouble you. Greta's delicate, and Henry is young and mischievous, so be a little more accommodating. I won't treat you unfairly, all right?"

Freya suddenly remembered their wedding night.

That night, William had kissed every one of her fingers and sworn that for the rest of her life, he would never let her do housework again.

And now he was asking her to personally wait on the people who had killed her parents.

It was no different from grinding her dignity into the ground.

Freya closed her eyes for a moment, and in the end, all she said was, "Fine."

Because she knew this was not the time to completely turn against him yet.

She had to stay in this house a little longer.

There was still one very important thing she needed to do.

It did not take long for Freya to truly see how impossible Greta and Henry were to serve.

Once, there was just one shrimp in a dish that had not been fully cleaned.

Greta dumped the entire plate onto the floor, sauce and all, and ordered Freya to kneel down and wipe it up.

"Trash. Make it again."

Another time, the glass of hot milk before bed was only slightly less warm than Greta wanted, and she threw it straight in Freya's face.

"Useless thing! How come you were so attentive when you were serving William in bed?"

Henry was learning fast too, becoming nastier and more difficult by the day.

Once, just because Freya had failed to turn on his cartoon before he went to the bathroom, he smashed a mirror and forced her to pick up the broken glass piece by piece.

Her hands were cut until they were covered in blood.

But when William happened to pass by, he only glanced at her indifferently. The first thing he said was, "Henry, stand farther away. Don't cut yourself."

Freya had thought that if she just kept enduring it, she would be able to hold on safely until the day she left.

But what she never expected was that that very night, while she was in the backyard looking for the bracelet Greta had deliberately thrown out the window, William suddenly stormed over in a rage.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up from the ground, his face darker than ever.

"Freya, what exactly did Henry ever do to you for you to treat a five-year-old child like this?"

Freya looked at him in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're still pretending?" William roared as he flung her hand away.

The force was so great that Freya lost her balance and fell straight into the rose bushes.

The thorns stabbed deep into her palm, and the sharp pain made her suck in a breath.