Chapter 93

Chapter 93

The bedroom was empty.

She let out a sigh of relief, quickly opened the door, and ran barefoot to the walk-in closet.

Just as her pale, delicate body was fully exposed to the air, the bedroom door opened.

Richard walked in and immediately saw Catherine standing in the middle of the room, completely naked.

Their eyes met, and the air seemed to freeze.

Catherine's mind went blank, overwhelmed by a wave of shame that made her forget to scream. Instinctively, she tried to cover herself with her hands, but felt it only made things worse.

Richard's gaze darkened, his Adam's apple bobbing involuntarily. His eyes traveled from her panicked face, down her graceful collarbone, and further... His eyes deepened, and he quickly stepped forward.

Catherine was startled by the aggression in his eyes and turned to run.

Richard's long arm reached out, effortlessly pulling her into his embrace, holding her tightly.

Catherine let out a gasp, her body stiffening. The sensation of their skin touching made her shiver. His warm, masculine scent enveloped her, exuding an undeniable dominance.

"Let me go!" she struggled, her voice tinged with tears and shame.

Richard only held her tighter, his chin resting on her damp hair. His voice was low and husky, with a hint of seduction. "Don't move."

His hand slowly caressed her smooth back, both soothing and dangerously igniting a fire.

Catherine's struggles gradually weakened, her body trembling slightly from a mix of shame and an unfamiliar thrill.

Richard lowered his head, capturing her lips with precision.

This kiss was different from their previous tentative or staged ones; it was filled with a strong sense of possession and undeniable dominance. Catherine's mind went completely blank, passively enduring it. His breath, his warmth, his strength, invaded her senses entirely.

After a long while, he finally released her slightly, their foreheads touching, his breath hot. He looked into her dazed, watery eyes, his own filled with complex emotions.

The next day, Catherine walked alone in the garden.

The evening breeze carried a chill, dispelling the stuffiness of the dining room and slightly relaxing her tense nerves. Moonlight cast dappled shadows on the meticulously trimmed plants.

She walked slowly along the cobblestone path, savoring the moment of peace.

"Isn't that Catherine? Why are you out here alone in the cold? Where's Richard? Not keeping you company?" A sharp, sarcastic voice shattered the tranquility.

Catherine paused, not needing to turn around to know who it was. Amara, Clara's daughter.

Amara, dressed in a flashy dress, arms crossed, walked up to Catherine in high heels, her face full of undisguised mockery.

"Catherine, how does it feel to be married to Richard? I heard he's very 'attentive' to you, even feeding you himself. How enviable," she said, emphasizing "attentive" with dripping sarcasm.

Catherine slowly turned around, her face still wearing that innocent, clueless expression, as if she didn't understand the barbs in Amara's words. "Amara, are you out for a walk too?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" Amara snapped impatiently. "Catherine, don't think that just because you married Richard, everything will be fine! A fool like you, even married to Richard, is useless!"

She grew more agitated, stepping forward, almost pointing at Catherine's nose. "My mom said, if it weren't for your lowly mother..."

A sharp slap echoed through the quiet garden.

Amara clutched her instantly reddened cheek, eyes wide with disbelief. She never expected that Catherine, who was always submissive and smiling, would dare to hit her!

Catherine's hand remained in the air, her previously innocent expression replaced by a chilling coldness. Her gaze was sharp as a knife, piercing Amara's heart.

"Amara," her voice was low but clear, "you can insult me, but you will not insult my mother."

Amara was stunned, and when she recovered, she was filled with overwhelming anger and humiliation. "You dare hit me? You, a fool, dare hit me!" she screamed, lunging forward.

"What about my mother?" Catherine's cold gaze bore into her, exuding an intimidating aura. "Did she block Clara's path? Or did she discover Clara's dirty deeds?"

Amara's face turned pale.

"You... you're talking nonsense!" Amara retorted, her voice shaky, her eyes starting to flicker.

"Nonsense?" Catherine stepped closer, her eyes locked onto Amara's.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Amara's voice trembled.

"You don't know?" Catherine let out a soft laugh, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Amara shuddered. She took a step back, her face drained of color, her lips trembling, her eyes filled with fear and panic.

"It... it was an accident! It had nothing to do with my mom! Nothing!" she denied incoherently, but her panicked reaction was as good as an admission.

Catherine watched her quietly, her eyes icy. So, her mother's death was indeed connected to Clara. Years of suspicion were confirmed in this moment.

Amara felt exposed under Catherine's gaze, as if all her secrets were laid bare.

Unable to stay any longer, she turned and stumbled away, as if fleeing from a terrifying beast.

Catherine stood still, her shadow elongated by the moonlight.

She slowly lowered her hand. That slap was not just for Amara's face, but also to vent years of pent-up anger for her mother and herself. But this was just the beginning.

Clara and Amara! They owed her, and she would make sure to collect every bit, with interest!

She didn't notice the pair of sinister eyes watching from the shadows of a nearby rock formation.

Gavin stepped out from the shadows, a playful smile on his lips.

He had only come out for some fresh air, but stumbled upon such an interesting scene. The Spencer family had some intriguing characters, especially Catherine. It seemed the rumors of her being a fool might not be entirely true.

He glanced in the direction Amara had fled, a calculating look in his eyes. This Amara, though a bit foolish, had deep hatred and considerable ambition. Perhaps... she could be useful.

Gavin straightened his jacket and walked in the direction Amara had gone.

He found her in another corner of the garden, leaning against a tree, her shoulders trembling, her face still marked by tears and the slap.

"Ms. Spencer, why are you here alone, upset?" Gavin's voice was gentle, with just the right amount of concern.

Amara jumped, startled, and when she saw it was Gavin, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She quickly wiped her tears. "I'm fine."