Chapter 117 The Sounds from the Study

Chapter 117 The Sounds from the Study
The butler’s words weren’t for Cora—they were a veiled warning to Dina.
Everyone in the Watson household knew the truth: the old madam favored Cora, not Dina.
Without the old lady’s approval, no woman—no matter how ambitious—could truly step inside this family.

Cora gave a polite nod and ignored Dina, turning toward the house.

As soon as she stepped inside, a servant appeared with a glass of freshly squeezed juice.
Before Cora could reach for it, Dina snatched it right out of the servant’s hands and drank the whole thing in one go.

“This is good,” she said with a satisfied sigh, handing back the empty glass. “I expect this standard every day. Keep up or risk your jobs. Anyway—where’s Jule’s room? I’m tired. I’ll rest there tonight.”

Her room?

Even Cora’s patience had limits.

“Dina,” she said coldly, “shouldn’t you be explaining your medical condition to me? You’re supposed to be dying of cancer—so why aren’t you in a hospital?”

Dina stepped close enough for Cora to feel her breath, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
Her whisper was venom wrapped in silk.

“Because you’re stupid. Who else would I lie to if not you? You’re so easy to play. One sob story and you go full saint mode. Honestly, it’s almost boring how gullible you are.”
She gave a soft, cruel laugh. “Some things never change.”

Cora had already heard the truth from Riley, but hearing it from Dina’s own mouth was something else.
She closed her eyes, silently repeating to herself: Don’t get angry. Don’t give her that power.

But Dina wasn’t done. “Aren’t you curious what Jule and I have been doing this past week?” she whispered against Cora’s ear.

Cora’s only answer was silence. Her eyes lowered, her face unreadable.

“Fine, play the saint all you want,” Dina sneered. “If you’re smart, you’ll pack up and leave before he throws you out himself. It’ll be a lot less humiliating that way. If I were you, I’d get rid of that baby too—start fresh somewhere far away.”

She paused, lowering her voice to a purr. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Jule’s heart has always been mine. Him bringing me here proves it. I’ll give you one last piece of advice, for old times’ sake—never covet what isn’t yours. Everything in this house belongs to me.”

She punctuated the words by jabbing her finger hard into Cora’s shoulder, shoving her just enough to make her stumble. Cora caught herself on the table before she fell.

Then Dina turned and strutted off, heels clicking, victory practically dripping from her.

The butler couldn’t take it anymore. “Mrs. Watson,” he said gently, “perhaps you should speak to Madam Watson. She adores you. If she intervenes, the young master won’t let another woman stay here.”

Cora shook her head, managing a small smile. “Thank you—for earlier too. But it’s fine. Jule’s the head of this house. He decides who stays and who leaves.”

I was already planning to leave, she thought. So what difference does it make if Dina gets here early?
It shouldn’t matter.
It really shouldn’t.
So why did her chest feel so heavy she could barely breathe?

⸻

Dinner that night was torture. Three people, one table, and silence so thick it buzzed.

Cora kept her gaze on her plate, ignoring the nauseating display beside her.

“Jule, try this,” Dina cooed, lifting a spoonful toward him. “It’s your favorite flavor, remember?”

Julian’s eyes flicked to Cora. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Just kept eating quietly, as if she couldn’t hear a word.

Dina hesitated but forced herself to hold the spoon steady. If she didn’t push now, she’d lose everything.

Julian’s jaw tightened. Fine. Two could play this game.

“You’re right, Dina,” he said loudly, making sure Cora could hear. “You always remember what I like.”

He took the spoon and swallowed the dessert whole.

Dina nearly trembled. Julian—who hated eating food touched by others—had just eaten her dessert.
Did that mean… he was letting her back in?

Julian, however, wasn’t thinking about her at all. He was watching Cora—watching her not react.

Nothing. Not even a flicker.
The chill in his veins spread.

Cora’s face stayed calm, but every sugary word between them cut through her like glass.

Five more months, she reminded herself. Just five.

She set her utensils down, dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and said quietly, “I’m done. I’ll go upstairs.”

Without looking at either of them, she stood and walked away with her assistant’s help.

Moments after her footsteps disappeared, the sound of breaking china exploded behind her.

Dina screamed.

Cora stopped for a second on the stairs, then kept walking.

Downstairs, Julian stood amidst the wreckage, his eyes bloodshot. Plates, cups, and shards covered the floor. Dina, pale and trembling, stared at him in shock—how could he flip from calm to furious so fast?

Austin stood silently at the side, pretending not to notice anything. He knew better than to speak.

The butler quickly signaled the servants to clean up. The soiled carpets were removed on the spot, replaced within minutes.

“Jule…” Dina whispered, her voice shaking.

He didn’t answer. He just turned, his expression hollow, and strode upstairs—not to the bedroom, but straight into his study.

Dina bit her lip hard.
No. Not this time. No matter what it takes, tonight I’ll make him mine.

⸻

Julian slammed the door of his study and leaned against it, his breath unsteady.
He needed the solid wood barrier between them—or he’d go to her room, drag her into his arms, and damn the consequences.

She’s driving me insane.
Her calmness, her detachment—it was killing him.

⸻

Cora sat on her bed, Qara’s book in her lap, but the words blurred together.
With a sigh, she closed it. The air in the room felt dry, heavy. She was thirsty.

Not wanting to disturb anyone, she decided to go to the kitchen herself.
But the moment she opened her door, she froze.

From the study next door came a low, unmistakable sound—breathy, intimate.

Cora knew that sound. She’d heard it twice before.

“Jule… mmm… I missed you so much,” came Dina’s broken murmur, half whisper, half moan.

The door must’ve been left slightly ajar, because every word carried clearly into the hall.

Cora’s hand on the doorknob went still.

Her lips curved—not in anger, not in sadness, just in something that looked too tired to feel. She placed a protective hand over her stomach and gave a small, bitter smile.

And then, suddenly, the study door burst open.

Julian stormed out, breath ragged, hair disheveled, his shirt collar open—and a faint trace of lipstick on his face.

Cora lifted her head and met his eyes.

For the first time, her heart didn’t race.
Her pulse didn’t spike.
She felt… nothing at all.