Chapter 102

Chapter 102

It wasn't just a job offer; it felt more like a declaration—a declaration that she would stand in the sunlight with a new identity, closely tied to him.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a hazy glow that enveloped them both. The air was charged, and something seemed to be quietly shifting.

"I'll handle the hospital myself," Catherine's calm voice with a hint of unyielding determination interrupted Richard. She looked up, meeting his deep gaze. " There is no need for Mr. Smith to arrange anything."

Richard watched her, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of his glass, and the air seemed to thicken.

He had intended to offer her a more relaxed and respectable position, or at least make her "hobby" safer and more fitting for her status. But she clearly wasn't interested.

"Catherine," his voice was low, "we're married."

"I know." Catherine lowered her gaze, looking at her fingers, "In name only."

Richard's brow furrowed slightly. He didn't like this distance, didn't like her constant defensiveness. "Married couples should act like it."

Catherine looked up, her eyes carrying a hint of inquiry, even a touch of mockery, "Like how?"

"Like fulfilling marital duties." Richard's words were direct. "My grandfather wants a grandchild."

Catherine froze, the air instantly chilled, a cold smile tugging at her lips. "Mr. Smith, we both know the nature of this marriage. A child? Isn't that laughable?"

"Catherine!" Richard stood up abruptly, a powerful sense of oppression instantly enveloping her.

He leaned in, hands braced on the armrest of the sofa, trapping her in a confined space. His eyes were filled with complex emotions, anger at having his thoughts exposed, and a deeper sense of possessiveness.

"Do you know who you're talking to?"

Catherine met his gaze fearlessly, even though his presence completely surrounded her, her eyes remained clear and defiant. "Someone who's also wearing a mask."

This sentence completely ignited Richard's suppressed anger.

He grabbed her chin forcefully, making her lift her head, and then a punishing kiss fell hard.

Unlike any previous attempts or pretenses, this kiss was filled with aggression and an irresistible force, as if he wanted to consume her whole, crush all her calm and distance.

Catherine was caught off guard, and her body instantly stiffened. She could clearly feel the anger and dominance in his kiss, a kind of territorial claim.

Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he held her tighter.

After a long while, Richard finally loosened his grip slightly. His forehead rested against hers, his breathing heavy, and his eyes turbulent. "Remember, Catherine, you are my wife."

No matter what you have in your heart, for this lifetime, you can only be my wife."

Catherine's lips were slightly swollen, her eyes flickering, but she didn't speak. She just turned her head, avoiding his scorching gaze.

In the study, Richard sat in front of the computer, pulling up surveillance footage from the back hill. The screen flashed frame by frame, finally freezing on Catherine's figure.

He adjusted several angles, quickly finding the scene he wanted to see.

In the forest under the night sky, Catherine was alone, walking calmly, without any sign of the rumored madness. What made his pupils contract was the appearance of several wild wolves, led by an exceptionally large white wolf.

In the footage, the white wolf didn't attack her; instead, it lowered its body, its head slightly bowed, making an almost submission gesture. Catherine even reached out, gently stroking the white wolf's head, her movements natural and familiar, as if they were old friends.

Richard's frown deepened. It was just too abnormal. Wolves are fierce and wild animals, especially wild wolves. How could they be so docile to a human? This white wolf, he remembered, seemed to be the leader of the pack in this forest.

His sharp eyes scanned every detail in the footage, trying to find a reasonable explanation. Just as he zoomed in, attempting to see clearly a detail on Catherine's waist during her interaction with the white wolf—

A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Come in." Richard's eyes flashed with displeasure.

His assistant entered hurriedly, looking anxious. "Mr. Smith, Mr. Oliver Spencer, and Mrs. Clara Spencer are here. Simon asked you to come over, says it's urgent."

Oliver? Richard's eyes turned cold.

It was time to settle accounts. He turned off the surveillance footage and stood up to leave. As his fingers left the mouse, the faint glint under the white wolf's neck on the screen was missed.

In the living room of the Smith Villa, the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Oliver and Clara sat uneasily on the sofa, their faces pale, not daring to take deep breaths.

At the head seat, Simon sipped tea leisurely, not even lifting his eyelids, but the invisible pressure made the whole space feel frozen.

When Richard entered, he only glanced at Oliver and Clara briefly before sitting down on the single sofa next to Simon.

"Grandfather."

Simon put down his teacup; the sound of the cup hitting the table was crisp, echoing in Oliver and Clara's hearts. "Richard is here."

He looked at Oliver, "Mr. Oliver Spencer, Mrs. Clara Spencer, I invited you here today to ask about the incident that happened on the back hill a few days ago."

Oliver's forehead was sweating, trying to stay calm. "There must be some misunderstanding..."

"Misunderstanding?" Simon sneered, his voice not loud but carrying immense weight. "We'll see if it's a misunderstanding."

He gestured, and the butler immediately turned on the living room's projection equipment.

Clear surveillance footage appeared on the wall, showing Amara sneaking around the cliff, tampering with it, and later deliberately luring Catherine close, attempting to push her off the cliff.

Every action, every expression, was recorded clearly.

Oliver and Clara's faces turned extremely ugly, their bodies starting to tremble slightly.

"This... this..." Clara looked at the footage, her lips trembling, trying to explain. "Amara... she didn't mean it! She was provoked by Catherine... Catherine must have done something to make Amara lose her mind..."

"Enough!" Simon interrupted sharply, his gaze as sharp as a knife, piercing Clara. "Clara, at this point, you still want to blame a 'fool'?"

Clara trembled under his gaze, but still tried to argue. "You know, Catherine... her mind has always been unstable, sometimes acting crazy, it's not surprising if she did something out of line, Amara..."

"Is that so?" Simon's lips curled into a mocking smile, his gaze turning to the door. "It seems some people need to see for themselves what the 'fool' they speak of really looks like."

As his words fell, the living room door was pushed open.