Chapter 190
Frank answered truthfully.
"That makes sense." Benjamin nodded, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Then he turned his head and buried his face in the pillow. The pillowcase was standard hospital-issue white cotton, carrying the scent of disinfectant—a stark reminder.
He made a silent, solemn vow to himself: from this day forward, if anyone dared speak ill of Victoria in his presence, he would fight them to the death.
The next day, the rain stopped. Dawn light filtered through gaps in the clouds, bathing the entire city in a faint golden-pink glow.
In the master bedroom of the Howard Family estate, blackout curtains were drawn tight, with only the thinnest sliver of morning light seeping through a gap at the edge.
Victoria and William's breathing was steady and deep as they slept in each other's arms, completely lost in deep sleep.
It was a long rest.
When Victoria woke, the first thing she became aware of wasn't light or sound, but the dull ache in her right palm—a muffled throb that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Like someone tapping her palm gently through thick gauze.
The anesthetic had worn off. The wound was reminding her, in its own way, of what had happened yesterday.
William lay beside her, his breathing steady and deep, his left arm still in the position from when they'd fallen asleep—curved beneath her neck as her pillow—his right hand resting lightly at her waist, holding her.
The room was dark. She turned her head toward the digital clock on the nightstand: 7:47 PM. They'd slept for a full fifteen hours.
The number made Victoria pause slightly.
Her usual sleep never exceeded six hours. Fifteen hours of continuous sleep was virtually unprecedented in her memory.
Her body must have truly been depleted—blood loss, high-intensity combat, complete relaxation after the adrenaline ebbed. All these factors combined had finally pinned her to the bed, forcing her to sleep honestly for fifteen hours.
She carefully withdrew her right hand from under the covers and held it up to examine it. The gauze was still pristine white with no blood seeping through, the knot still the neat one William had tied last night. He'd probably gotten up at some point to recheck her wound and change the dressing.
Victoria lowered her hand and turned to look at the person beside her. By the thread of twilight seeping through the curtain gap, she could see William's face.
In sleep, much of the usual coldness in his features had dissipated. He was no longer the ruthless leader of the Howard Group, just a gentle husband who made her feel utterly safe.
Victoria watched him for a while, then made a decision: sleep a bit more.
She closed her eyes again and nestled closer into his embrace. She could feel his arm unconsciously tighten around her waist, pulling her more firmly against his chest.
When she woke again, William was already awake.
He was propped halfway against the headboard, one arm still serving as her pillow, the other holding his phone as he rapidly scrolled through something in silent mode. The screen brightness was set to minimum, illuminating only the sharply defined lower half of his face in the dim room.
"Awake?" He sensed her movement, put down his phone, and looked down at her.
"Mm." Victoria's voice carried the distinctive huskiness of recent waking, lower than usual. "What time is it?"
"Nine-thirty." William said. After a pause, he added, "Nine-thirty at night."
Victoria raised her hand to rub her eyes, then propped herself up with her left hand to sit.
Her white robe had become thoroughly wrinkled during the long sleep, the collar askew, exposing a section of collarbone. William reached over to straighten her collar, the gesture natural, without a trace of deliberate thought.
"Hungry?" he asked.
Victoria assessed her stomach's condition. After fifteen hours without food, her empty stomach finally remembered its existence upon receiving the brain's wake-up signal and began issuing a long, dull protest.
She nodded.
"There's food ready downstairs. Go freshen up. Need help?"
"No." Victoria's face flushed as some thought crossed her mind, and she fled quickly.
After freshening up, the two descended the stairs one after the other.
The long dining table was already set with several steaming dishes: lemon butter pan-seared bass, roasted asparagus, a bowl of chicken soup. Simple, light, easily digestible—clearly prepared specifically for someone recovering from injury.
A servant stood to the side and immediately began serving as Victoria and William came downstairs.
With Ruby away, Benjamin expelled, and both Elara and Lucas nowhere to be seen, only these two remained in the house. They could eat as soon as they arrived.
Victoria sat down and picked up her fork with her left hand. Spearing something as slippery and delicate as fish required concentration. She tried twice before successfully getting a piece of fish into her bowl, her expression remaining calm without any trace of impatience.
William didn't help her with the food. He knew she didn't need it.
She could reload a magazine one-handed, shoot one-handed, grip a knife one-handed. Eating one-handed was just another small skill she needed to adapt to.
He would adjust the air conditioning for her, arrange her pillows, check her wound—but in matters she could handle herself, he never intervened. Respecting her capabilities was respecting her as a person.
Besides, after she successfully speared the fish, that extremely faint arc of satisfaction at the corner of her mouth was what he most wanted to protect.
The two finished their meal in peaceful silence. Halfway through the soup, the butler approached the dining table and bowed slightly: "Mr. William Howard, Mrs. Victoria Howard, Mrs. Ruby Howard has returned."
William's hand paused. Victoria looked up, meeting William's gaze. Both simultaneously thought of one unresolved question—those three daggers discovered at the Clifford Family estate.
Three minutes later, a black Bentley slowly pulled through the estate gates and stopped smoothly at the main entrance.
The butler stepped forward to open the car door. First to emerge was Ruby's personal assistant Anouk, a capable-looking woman in her early thirties carrying two large duty-free shopping bags. Then a foot in a black low-heeled leather shoe stepped onto the running board, steady and sure.
Ruby emerged from the car.
Her silver hair was impeccably styled, pinned into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. She wore a navy blue knit cardigan with an exceptionally fine pearl necklace at her throat and an ice-jadeite bracelet on her wrist that glowed with a warm green luster under the lights. Clearly this trip abroad shopping with old friends had been delightful—she was wearing new jewelry from head to toe.
Ruby walked into the living room beaming. Victoria and William were already waiting at the entrance. "Grandma, you're back."
Ruby's gaze swept over the gauze wrapping Victoria's right hand, then over the barely noticeable fine scratch on William's face. Her eyes narrowed, her expression suddenly turning serious.
Apparently quite a bit had happened during her absence.
She nodded at them. "Let's sit in the living room and talk."
After assistant Anouk handed the shopping bags to the servants and said goodbye to Ruby, she left.
The butler brought up a pot of freshly brewed pour-over coffee. The deep brown liquid rippled slightly in the white porcelain cup, steam curling upward. Ruby accepted it, cradling it in her hands without drinking. The coffee's aroma slowly filled the quiet living room, carrying notes of light fruit acid and caramel.
"Go ahead." Ruby spoke, looking at the two standing before her like fence posts, her tone carrying a resigned knowingness. "The two of you standing there like that—clearly you need something."
Victoria glanced at William. William picked up his phone from the coffee table, pulled up the photo of the dagger, and handed it to Ruby.
The photo showed the dagger displayed in a well-lit case, the eagle-head carving on the guard sharply defined under the flash. "Grandma, do you recognize this dagger?"
Ruby took the phone. In less than a second of looking, her expression changed. She brought the phone closer, her finger gently sliding across the screen to enlarge the photo, staring at the eagle-head carving on the guard for a long time. Every feather of the eagle head was carved with extreme precision, the eagle's eye a tiny deep-red gemstone that gleamed darkly in the light.
"Where did you see this?" Ruby's voice had dropped a full octave from before, carrying a tremor she was struggling to suppress.