Chapter 110

Chapter 110

Years ago, she hummed this very nursery rhyme while "accidentally" spilling boiling water on the annoying Catherine, and later locked her in the cold storage room when she was feverish and delirious...

Amara was startled by Clara's agitation and began to scream and struggle, her singing becoming more chaotic and loud: "Mommy's back, holding... holding something hot... Catherine cries... Catherine screams... locked up..."

The disjointed words and off-key singing struck the living room like bolts of lightning.

Oliver suddenly turned to Clara, his eyes sharp as an eagle's: "What is she talking about, Clara? What is she singing about?!"

He wasn't a fool.

Amara had been acting crazy for a while now, but this eerie nursery rhyme, these vague yet pointed words, made him instantly recall many overlooked details.

Could it be that Catherine's near-fatal "accident" years ago was...

Clara felt a chill under Oliver's piercing gaze, but she forced herself to stay calm: "You... you're listening to a madwoman's nonsense! She's just scared and singing randomly!"

"Randomly singing?" Oliver stepped closer, his eyes filled with suspicion and rage, "I don't think so! What have you been doing to Catherine behind my back all these years?!"

"I haven't done anything! Oliver, don't accuse me without proof!" Clara screamed, her voice harsh and defensive, trying to hide her inner panic.

The servants in the living room were already terrified, wishing they could shrink into the air.

The internal conflict within the Spencer family was like a bomb with a lit fuse, exploding in the midst of Amara's chaotic nursery rhyme.

Inside a black sedan.

Catherine put down the tablet, which displayed the Spencer family's internal surveillance footage—of course, a version edited to show only the necessary content.

Amara's nursery rhyme, Clara's panic, Oliver's anger... everything was clearly presented before her.

"Ms. Spencer, Oliver is starting to suspect Clara," Shadow's voice carried a hint of excitement.

Catherine's face remained expressionless, but her fingers paused in their tapping.

Good. The first step was successful.

Amara was proving to be an even more useful pawn than she had anticipated.

The fear from years ago had already planted nightmares in Amara's heart. With a little external pressure—like the "accidental scare" at the engagement party, or letting her "happen" to hear certain provocative words—it was enough to completely break her spirit and make her spill those deeply buried fragments of memory in such a chaotic manner.

And Clara, that self-righteous woman, her panic was the best catalyst.

"Have the servants involved in the 'accident' in the storage room been dealt with?" Catherine asked.

"We've dealt with two of them. There's one key person left; we've found her whereabouts. She's currently in a nursing home, and we've sent people to 'watch over' her," Shadow reported.

Catherine nodded slightly. Evidence needed to be collected, and witnesses needed to be controlled.

Clara's infidelity evidence was an external blow, shaking her reputation and Oliver's trust, while the abuse evidence from years ago was a blade aimed at her heart.

Now that Amara had successfully aroused Oliver's suspicion, it was time for the next step.

She remembered how, as a child, she pretended to be foolish, and Clara, thinking she was truly dumb, let her guard down completely. She even described certain "accidents" in vivid detail to scare her, with words full of pride and malice.

The fear was real then, but beneath the fear, she learned how to use the other person's psychology to extract information.

Amara was driven mad by fear, and Clara's greatest fear now was that Amara would reveal more of the "secrets" from back then. This fear would make her lose her composure and expose her weaknesses.

"Find a suitable time," Catherine's voice was calm and cold, "I want to personally 'visit' Amara and have a little chat with Clara."

She intended to use the same old trick. Using Amara's madness to pry open Clara's mouth.

Clara had boasted about all those "achievements" in front of her back then, and she would reclaim them all with interest.

Outside the car window, the lights of the Spencer Villa were still bustling, but in Catherine's eyes, it was just the last frenzy before burning out. An invisible net was slowly tightening under her control.

The night was as dark as ink, enveloping the entire city in a blanket of silence.

In the depths of a private restaurant in the city center, not open to the public, in an elegant private room, a top-grade incense was burning in the censer, its smoke curling up but unable to dispel the faint heaviness in the air.

Catherine sat upright in a wooden chair, her fingers unconsciously stroking the smooth edge of a teacup. Across from her stood Yosef.

"Ms. Spencer, the Vesperia branch has successfully secured the overseas project according to your plan. Summit Group's influence overseas has been initially stabilized." Yosef's voice was deep, with a metallic quality, and concise in his report.

Catherine nodded slightly, her face showing no expression, as if such achievements were already within her expectations. "Got it. Talk about something else."

Yosef was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing his words, his gaze subtly sweeping over Catherine's calm profile. "Ms. Spencer, regarding Mr. Smith..."

Catherine's movements paused almost imperceptibly, then she resumed as usual, picking up the teacup but not drinking, just watching the steam rise. "What about him?"

"I've observed that you seem to treat Mr. Smith... differently from others," Yosef's voice was even lower.

"The Smith family situation is complex. Richard may be lying low for now, but he's not a simple person. If Ms. Spencer intends to maintain this marriage, perhaps you could consider... 'training' him to become one of our loyal... allies."

He carefully watched Catherine's expression, trying to catch any hint of emotion on her always indifferent face.

Catherine finally looked up at him, her eyes clear and cold like a winter pond, with a hint of a smile that didn't reach her eyes, making it feel even colder.

"Yosef," she gently placed the teacup down, producing a crisp sound, "how long have you been with me?"

"Five years and three months," Yosef answered immediately, somewhat puzzled.

"Five years, and you've learned to guess my thoughts," Catherine's voice was light but carried undeniable authority, "My marriage is part of the game, but Richard is not a pawn, nor is he a pet that can be easily 'trained'."

She stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the deep night.

"He's a wolf, temporarily hiding his claws. Wolves can't be tamed; they can only cooperate or... become enemies."