Chapter 116 Words Hidden in the Heart

Chapter 116 Words Hidden in the Heart

Mrs. Crompton?

Why would she want to meet with me out of the blue?

But she was also someone important, not to mention the Crompton family and the Grey family had been collaborating lately.

Besides, it wasn't that late. Ruth nodded. "Lead the way."

The assistant led her through the corridor to Mrs. Crompton's room.

Pushing the door open, Ruth found Mrs. Crompton sitting by the window, apparently admiring the ocean view.

Catching sight of Ruth from the corner of her eye, Mrs. Crompton smiled and gestured. "Mrs. Grey, you're here. Please, sit."

After Ruth took a seat across from her, she got straight to the point. "Mrs. Crompton, you asked to see me so late—is there something you need?"

Mrs. Crompton stood and walked to a cabinet at the front of the room. Opening it, she retrieved a wooden box.

She opened the box and carefully withdrew an antique painting, unfolding it with care.

"Mrs. Grey, I recently acquired this eighteenth-century oil painting. Unfortunately, there's damage in the lower right corner. I've consulted several restoration specialists, and they all say they can technically repair it."

She sighed. "The problem is, designing the missing portion to match the original artist's style is proving extremely difficult. I heard you once designed a court gown for the Queen of England—your aesthetic judgment is exceptional. I was hoping you might be able to help me design the restoration plan."

Ruth lowered her gaze to study the painting carefully.

The scene depicted a European estate from the previous century. The damaged section was precisely where foliage on the right side transitioned into sky.

If this painting were to be fully restored, all they needed was to find the original design reference.

"Mrs. Crompton," she said, "the damage isn't too severe. If we can locate the original sketch or reference works by the same artist, restoration should be straightforward."

The assistant shook her head. "Mrs. Grey, the original sketch has been lost, and there are no other landscape paintings by this artist available on the market."

Asking a non-specialist to restore a painting out of nowhere—something about this felt off.

Ruth withdrew her gaze. "Mrs. Crompton, if I have to design the missing portion from scratch while matching the original style... I'm afraid that's beyond my capabilities."

She paused. "To be honest, Mrs. Crompton, I'm a fashion and jewelry designer. My knowledge of antique painting restoration is limited. You really should find a professional restoration specialist for this."

Mrs. Crompton smiled. "I've already tried that. Unfortunately, their designs lack soul. But Mrs. Grey, when you designed that gown for the Queen, you captured the precise details of the court period style. That kind of sensitivity to historical aesthetics is something many restoration specialists simply don't possess."

Ruth fell silent for a moment.

Seeing her expression soften, Mrs. Crompton dangled the bait.

"If you're willing to take this on, Mrs. Grey, I'd like to make you my goddaughter."

Ruth looked puzzled. "Don't you already have Vivian as your goddaughter?"

Mrs. Crompton spoke candidly. "Mrs. Grey, you're a smart woman, so I won't hide it from you. When I made her my goddaughter, it was because she'd done me a favor, and we seemed compatible. But after spending time with her, I have a clear sense of her capabilities and limitations." She shifted gears. "Besides, in elite circles, interests always come before sentiment. Having another capable goddaughter is hardly a disadvantage for me."

Hearing this, Ruth's suspicions finally settled.

So Vivian's little schemes hadn't escaped Mrs. Crompton's notice after all—she'd simply chosen not to call them out.

"You flatter me, Mrs. Crompton." Ruth smiled. "I can try with this painting, but I can't guarantee you'll be satisfied with the result."

Mrs. Crompton's smile warmed considerably. "Just knowing you're willing to help puts my mind at ease, Mrs. Grey. Take your time—there's no rush."

Ruth took several photos of the antique painting, exchanged a few pleasantries with Mrs. Crompton, then rose to take her leave.

Walking out of the tea room, she glanced down at the photo on her phone and let out a soft laugh.

There really weren't any fools in elite circles. Well, except for Vivian.

Ruth put away her phone and had just started toward the elevator when she ran right into William.

"Mr. Scott, what are you doing here?"

William tilted his chin toward a door not far away. "I'm staying in that room."

Ruth followed his gesture, then suddenly realized something wasn't right.

"Aren't you staying in 1208?"

William smiled but said nothing.

Ruth's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you knew all along I'd switch rooms, so you booked an extra one ahead of time?"

William looked down with a quiet laugh. "That's a secret, Ruth."

Ruth didn't press further.

William smoothly changed the subject. "What did Mrs. Crompton want?"

Ruth gave him a brief rundown of what had happened.

William frowned. "Mrs. Crompton seems gentle on the surface, but she's actually quite difficult to please. I don't think you should take on her project."

Ruth smiled calmly. "But I've already agreed. I can't back out now. Don't worry, Mr. Scott—I'll be careful."

Remembering his earlier non-answer, she felt something complicated stir in her chest.

Since they'd reconnected, he seemed to have been quietly supporting her from the shadows.

What was he after?

Before leaving, she said, "Get some rest, Mr. Scott. And... thank you."

Thank you...

William stood there, his gaze drifting to the ocean outside the window. He'd heard those two words from her far too many times.

But given their current relationship, what else was there to say besides 'thank you'?

As for what Ruth had mentioned about booking an extra room—yes, he'd done it deliberately.

From the moment he'd learned she'd be on this cruise, he'd arranged every possible backup plan.

He didn't want to put her in a difficult position, and he didn't want to give Shawn any chance to trap her.

He figured some things were better kept in his heart than spoken aloud.

After returning to her room and washing up, Ruth lay in bed as drowsiness gradually overtook her.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, urgent knocking suddenly erupted at the door.

Her eyes flew open. She checked the time.

Nearly one in the morning.

She threw on a robe and got out of bed, walked to the door, and peered through the peephole. It was Shawn.

Why was he back here to spend the night after all?

Ruth took a deep breath, suppressing her irritation, and opened the door.

Shawn stood in the doorway, reeking heavily of alcohol, swaying unsteadily.

The moment he saw Ruth, his eyes lit up, and he threw his arms around her. "Baby, you're still awake... that's wonderful."

Ruth's stomach churned from the alcohol fumes.

But she didn't push him away. Instead, she half-supported, half-dragged him into the room.

Shawn collapsed onto the bed, his eyes unfocused. "Ruth, I really do love you. Do you know you're the most important person in my life... if you ever left me, I don't think I could go on living."