Chapter 110 Sooner or Later
Arabella felt somewhat embarrassed as she recounted what Becky had said, explaining sheepishly, "I couldn't think of how to explain it to her in the moment, and I was worried it might affect her first day of school tomorrow. So I figured I'd sleep in the living room tonight and think of something by tomorrow."
Alexander's heart was practically overflowing with joy, but he worked to maintain his composure as he suggested, "You could sleep in my room. My bed is huge—eight feet wide. We could sleep separately on different sides."
Arabella hadn't expected him to say that. After a moment of surprise, she said, "That... wouldn't be appropriate, would it?"
They were fake spouses after all. Two people sleeping together... how awkward.
Alexander kept his expression unchanged, and to make this seem legitimate, he even stabbed himself again: "You know I'm not interested in women, so basically, we're the same gender. Same-gender people sharing a bed is no big deal."
"Besides," he looked at Arabella, trying to keep his voice steady without revealing his true nature, "Becky's too young—she probably expects a normal family life. If we sleep in separate rooms, she might worry along with us. That kid's pretty sensitive, so we should consider her feelings more. What do you think?"
Arabella had initially felt awkward, but hearing him put it this way, she realized it really wasn't a big deal.
How did she keep forgetting that Alexander was gay? Gay meant sister, and sleeping together really wasn't anything special. Besides, they were married—even without a physical relationship, sharing a bed was pretty reasonable, right?
Seeing her expression had relaxed, Alexander bent down to pick up her bedding to avoid any second thoughts. "Let me help you."
Now Arabella had absolutely no way out.
She'd already showered and followed Alexander into his bedroom. She'd always been very mindful of boundaries—since moving in, she'd strictly maintained limits. To be honest, this was her first time entering his bedroom.
She'd always known that men's bedrooms might not be too tidy. After all, few men enjoyed cleaning up. She'd expected to see a somewhat messy room and had even mentally prepared for smelly socks and underwear scattered around.
But walking in, she was stunned by how neat and clean the bedroom was.
Being the master bedroom, his room was spacious with a cool gray color scheme. Against one wall was a row of closets, and the bed really was eight feet wide.
Alexander inconspicuously glanced at her and said, "Lucky coincidence—I just changed the sheets this morning. They're clean. If you mind, we can buy a new set tomorrow, but tonight you'll have to make do."
Arabella quickly said, "I don't mind."
She was afraid Alexander would think she found him disgusting. But then she thought about how they'd both be lying on the same bed in a moment, on sheets he'd slept on... that was pretty awkward too.
Never mind, she'd buy a new set tomorrow.
Her gaze suddenly fell on some CDs on the desk, and she asked with pleasant surprise, "You like this artist too?"
Alexander glanced over and smiled with a nod. "I'm quite fond of her. I've bought every single CD she's released."
Arabella exclaimed, "You're amazing! I've bought her albums too, but there are a few rare ones I could never get my hands on."
She smiled at Alexander with regret, picking up one of the CDs from the desk—exactly one of the ones she'd never been able to buy.
Alexander said, "If you like them, you can pick a few. I have quite a collection."
Arabella quickly waved her hands. "No need."
This artist had high international recognition but kept a low profile. Her albums were released quietly, and after selling out, no additional copies were ever produced. These collector-level ones became rarer with each release.
Though she loved them, she wouldn't take someone else's treasures.
Seeing her refusal, Alexander casually pulled out several CDs and placed them in her hands, smiling nonchalantly. "I have more than one set, and I have a friend who knows this artist. These were all gotten through my friend—I can just ask for more later."
Arabella looked at the CDs in her hands in amazement. The ones Alexander was giving her were exactly the ones she'd never been able to find.
She felt bad taking them for free, but the temptation was too great...
After hesitating, she confirmed, "You're really giving these to me?"
Alexander turned to look at her with a smile. "Of course. I wouldn't joke about something like this."
Arabella couldn't resist the urge and said, "Then I'll... I'll give you a little gift sometime too."
Alexander chuckled. "Is this reciprocal gift-giving?"
Arabella nodded honestly. "I'd feel bad taking them for nothing."
Alexander's gaze lingered on the CDs for a moment. Finally, without explaining anything, he just smiled and said, "Alright, I'll look forward to your gift."
Arabella didn't know why, but she inexplicably felt the atmosphere was a bit awkward. Alexander's focused gaze as he smiled at her made her somewhat uncomfortable.
She'd overestimated herself. Being alone with a man in a room—she wasn't as okay with it as she'd thought.
Alexander seemed to notice her discomfort and looked away, saying casually, "I'll sleep on the floor tonight."
He pulled bedding from the closet and began spreading it on the ground.
Arabella was startled. "Huh? You're not sleeping on the bed?"
Hadn't they just agreed to sleep on the bed together?
And this was his room, his bed. If anyone should sleep on the floor, shouldn't it be her?
Alexander smiled gently, explaining, "My back's been bothering me these past couple days. The bed's too soft. I'll go back to the bed in a few days."
He wanted to give her time to adjust.
Arabella nodded hesitantly. She felt like something was off, but couldn't pinpoint what. After hesitating for a few seconds, she said, "Then let's sleep."
Alexander lay down on the floor while Arabella climbed onto the bed.
The soft yellow bedside light glowed dimly. Neither had any sleepiness. Arabella sank into the soft pillow—his pillow, carrying a fresh scent that gave her the illusion she wasn't sleeping on his bed but in his arms.
The moment this thought surfaced, her cheeks burned as she silently warned herself: 'You're crazy! What are you thinking? Don't let your mind wander!'
He's gay—how dare you even think such things!
It was just her first time sleeping in a strange man's bed, and she had trouble adjusting. She tossed and turned for a long time before finally falling asleep.
Alexander watched her by the dim light. She had her back to him, as if trying to maintain distance. Actually, from the moment she'd entered the bedroom, he'd sensed she was very uncomfortable with this. But to avoid awkwardness, she'd pretended to be nonchalant. When talking to him, she was clearly so uneasy yet put on an air of casual indifference.
She still wasn't good at interacting with men, just like before.
But that was okay—he'd help her get used to it.
His gaze lingered deeply on her curved silhouette. She was so uncomfortable she even slept with her back to him. But that was fine—two people with such aligned musical tastes would eventually end up sleeping in the same bed.
Meanwhile, at Watson Villa.
Jennifer had smashed everything breakable within reach and still didn't feel satisfied. Looking at Anthony standing there like nothing had happened, she violently threw a cushion at him, her voice hoarse: "Tell me, what exactly are you trying to do? Cassidy's only been here a few days, and after she whispers a few sweet nothings in your ear, you're already turning against me? You want to kick me out? Not a chance!"
Anthony stood there watching her, pain flashing in his eyes. After struggling for a moment, he said, "Mom, you know this isn't about Cassie. I've already made myself very clear—you can't keep acting out like this."
Jennifer was so angry that tears welled up, furious and frantic: "How is this not about her? When Arabella was living here, I treated her the same way, and you never said anything then! Now that it's Cassidy, you can't bear it. I have conflicts with her, and you want to get rid of me? At my age, if you send me away from Majestic City, what kind of life would I have left? You might as well just kill me!"
"Mom!" Anthony's voice darkened as he frowned at her. He was very sensitive about hearing the word "kill" now—it made a dark, uncontrollable shadow slowly rise in his heart.
He took a deep breath before continuing, "This has nothing to do with Cassie. Do you realize you nearly took Molly's life today? When Molly was taken to the hospital, the doctor said if we'd been ten minutes later, she couldn't have been saved. That child is still in surgery right now—we don't even know if she'll live or die."
Hearing Molly's name, Jennifer was clearly somewhat guilty but still argued righteously, "She's Cassidy's adoptee, she's Watson family, living off our money. If I want to hit or scold her, who can say I'm wrong?"
Anthony was physically and mentally exhausted. He'd been busy with company matters all day, then went to the hospital because Cassidy wasn't feeling well, and now this business with Molly in the evening. He was truly tired.
"Mom, you know that's not what I'm talking about." He said patiently. "How you treat Arabella, how you treat Cassidy—I don't interfere. I know you want to train them to become capable Watson family daughters-in-law, so even when you go too far sometimes, I've never said anything."
"But Molly—you nearly beat her to death! Yes, she's a child our Watson family adopted, eating our food and drinking our water, but this is a society ruled by law! You can't treat her like our family's slave. If you really killed her, you'd face legal consequences!"
Jennifer remained dismissive: "What's to fear? It's not like it hasn't happened before..."
"Mom!" Anthony suddenly shouted, viciously interrupting her words. In that moment, his eyes turned bloodshot like a demon from hell. He looked at Jennifer and said word by word: "I told you—that matter is never to be mentioned again! We don't always have that kind of luck. Don't think the Watson family can cover up everything!"
Jennifer knew she'd touched his sore spot and swallowed her anger, negotiating with him: "How about this—I promise you I won't act out at home anymore. Don't send me away. I can't leave Majestic City. Away from here, I can't survive."
Anthony looked at her with dark eyes. Jennifer felt uncomfortable under his gaze and couldn't help saying, "Anthony, don't forget who's responsible for what you have today. Your father, that useless man, has been living his carefree life abroad for years, refusing to come back. If I hadn't worked so hard to help you, could you have achieved your current position? Now that you've made it, you want to kick me out. How can you face me?"
Anthony clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. After a long while, he finally relented, "You can continue staying here, but from now on, you cannot randomly hit or scold anyone, especially Molly and Cassie. Let the servants do the servants' work—don't make Molly and Cassie do heavy labor anymore. Treat them well. If you can do that, I'll agree."
Jennifer said, "What's so difficult about that? I promise you—I won't be willful anymore."
Hearing her promise, Anthony said nothing more and walked out.
Jennifer watched his retreating figure with some resentment. This son she'd raised with her own hands used to be so filial and considerate to her. Ever since marrying Cassidy, everything had changed.
That woman was a disaster.
Such disasters couldn't be allowed to stay in the Watson family. Before, she'd been blinded by that woman, actually thinking she'd be easy to control. She hadn't expected her to be more troublesome than Arabella.
She needed to think of a good way to make Anthony kick that woman out. Otherwise, her mother-son relationship with Anthony would be completely ruined by that woman!
But what method could she use?
Jennifer sat on the sofa, her expression cold as she pondered. After a long while, she let out a cold laugh.
Anthony came out of the villa but didn't go anywhere. Instead, he sat in his car, breathing heavily as if trying to exhale all the frustration accumulated in his organs.
But his breathing grew heavier and heavier—he couldn't control his emotions anymore.
His mother's words echoed in his ears like a curse. Enough, really enough!
Since middle school, those words had been cycling in his ears over and over like a nightmare, constantly tormenting his soul all these years, nearly driving him to collapse.
He wanted to say that what he had today was earned by himself and had nothing to do with anyone else! But he couldn't deny his mother's contributions either.
Unable to reconcile this, he could only suppress that unwillingness and anger again and again. But the human heart could only hold so much—there was always a breaking point.
He was nearly at his breaking point now.
He didn't understand—Cassie's return and their rekindled romance should have been a good thing. He'd successfully gotten rid of Arabella, married Cassie as he'd wished, and they even had a child. So why were the days becoming increasingly torturous?
He floored the gas pedal, and the car shot out like an arrow from a bow.
Half an hour later, the car stopped outside a suburban estate.
Riverbend Manor—he'd just been here a few months ago.
Pressing the switch, the large iron gate slowly opened. The entire estate was pitch black. The car slowly drove in, and following a familiar route, he arrived at the small villa.
Everything was dark, but he felt at peace. Step by step, he walked up the stairs inside. The sound of his leather shoes on the ground was particularly clear in the darkness. Dim moonlight streamed in, falling on his shoulders like adding endless terrifying colors to him.
Anthony took the elevator to the basement.
As soon as he reached the second basement level, he heard a man's agonized cries—like a beast that had endured catastrophe, angry, unwilling, and terrified.
Hearing this sound, Anthony's previously expressionless face began showing hints of excitement.