Chapter 7

As Beatrice let out a sigh of relief, she spoke to Marceline in a gentle tone, saying, "Marcy, when will you be home? It rained yesterday—I was worried you might catch a cold again, so I brought you some nourishing soup." Curtis sneered as he flipped through a contract. "Does it seem like this house is short on people who can make soup?" It was clear that Beatrice had come because of the rumors she'd heard and wanted to check on the two of them. Marceline lowered her gaze and said in a meek voice, "I was out job hunting today. I'll be home soon." Beatrice relaxed and replied with a smile, "Alright then. I've been worrying about you being home alone all the time. It isn't healthy to stay cooped up at home. "What kind of job are you looking for? I'll have Curtis arrange something easy and well-paid for you at the company. Young people love those sorts of jobs." Marceline didn't want to continue the conversation any longer. She brushed Beatrice off with a few words to prevent her from getting too worked up. Then, she ended the call. Once Beatrice heard the beeping tone from the phone, she immediately grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Curtis. "Tell me exactly what's going on. Is Wolfe Group going bankrupt? Why else would you let her go look for a job?" "She wants to be independent. Why are you meddling so much?" Beatrice felt like talking to Curtis was going to send her straight to her grave. She clutched her chest in frustration. "If only you had a fraction of your brother's chivalry…" A cold look crossed Curtis' gaze. Chivalry? Zachary was just a wolf in incredibly convincing sheep's clothing. In the seven years since Curtis returned, he had survived dozens—if not hundreds—of assassination attempts. He simply didn't care to do anything about it. Beatrice eventually calmed down and sighed. "Forget it. You just have to be good to Marcy. She's always been so sweet. I liked her the moment I first saw her. "Back then, you were incredibly eager to marry her. Just what in the world happened for things to get this ugly?" Curtis said nothing and merely continued to read the contract in silence. Not long after, Marceline came. "Mrs. Wolfe Senior," she sweetly called out before entering. However, before she could get far, her vision went dark, and she nearly collapsed. Beatrice was so startled that she almost fainted herself. When she rushed forward to help, Marceline had already propped herself up against a nearby cabinet—albeit barely managing to stand. With a pale face, she quickly apologized, "I'm so sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Wolfe Senior. I just feel a little dizzy." "Damn it, Curtis! If anything happens to Marcy, I swear I'll never forgive you!" Beatrice exclaimed. But Marceline couldn't make out what was being said after that and blacked out. When the doctor, James Lovell, arrived, he took her temperature and conducted a brief examination. He said, "She's just run-down and has a fever. She'll be fine after a few days of rest. Don't worry, Mrs. Wolfe Senior." Beatrice sat at the bedside and gazed at the unconscious Marceline. She was so angry that she wanted to twist Curtis' ear. "Look at the condition she's gotten in under your care! Why does she look even thinner than before?" James hesitated for a moment and eventually added, "She's a little malnourished." Curtis' face went dark. Marceline was malnourished? If word got out that his wife was malnourished, wouldn't he become a laughingstock? So, he summoned the two maids who usually looked after Marceline in the villa. They knelt in fright as soon as they entered the room. "Mr. Wolfe, it's not our fault. Mrs. Wolfe barely eats anything. She just reads all day and often forgets to eat." "It's true. She wouldn't listen even when we reminded her to eat." The two of them were pale with fear as Curtis asked, "What kind of meals do you usually prepare?" "Well, we usually make crab cakes, cream of crab soup, pulled pork, and other similar dishes—all of them are dishes that require skills to make." With a cold smile, Curtis questioned, "Are those foods that she wanted to eat, or were they what you wanted to eat? You've been handling her meals for three years. How do you not know she's allergic to crab? And she hates greasy foods like pulled pork." The maids immediately groveled in terror. "Mr. Wolfe, we really didn't know that!" Beatrice had seen such scenes too many times. The maids probably noticed that Marceline wasn't well-liked and began doing as they pleased. As for Marceline, since she wasn't the type to complain, she endured it all in silence until her health deteriorated to this point. Curtis' face darkened further as a chilling glint flickered in his eyes. "Pack your things and get lost!" The two maids had originally been transferred over from Wolfe Manor, so Beatrice knew them. Right then, they turned to her and pleaded, saying, "Mrs. Wolfe Senior, we've served the Wolfe family for years. Please don't make us leave." But Beatrice kicked one of them aside. "The lady of the house is malnourished, yet you two look well-fed. You've clearly been eating well over these past few years, haven't you?" Their faces went as pale as sheets, and they didn't dare say another word. Marceline hardly spoke to them over the past couple of years. She was always reading and barely ate anything besides vegetables. She'd spent most of her time staring out the window, looking like she was depressed. It wasn't as if they were doctors, and it wasn't a secret that Curtis barely came home or cared about her. As such, the maids grew bolder with time and often made extravagant dishes with expensive ingredients. In the end, all that food went to their stomachs, and Marceline never said a word about it. "Mrs. Wolfe Senior, we… We…" The two no longer dared say anything and simply shrank back in disgrace. Beatrice rubbed her temples before abruptly slapping Curtis across the face. "Look at what you've done. If you really dislike her that much, divorce her already. Marcy must've been cursed to end up with a man like you." The slap was unexpected. Caught off guard, Curtis' head turned slightly from the force. Meanwhile, James stood nearby, looking a bit awkward. He had always known that Beatrice liked Marceline, but he never knew exactly how much. Curtis didn't react to the slap. Instead, he gently turned Beatrice to face him. "That's enough, Grandma. Go rest in the guest room. If you really want her to recover, stay here and look after her for a while." Beatrice flung his hand away. "Curtis, let me make this perfectly clear—I like Marcy a lot more than I like you, you punk. If you aren't going to cherish her, then I'll find someone better for her myself." A dark, icy glint flickered in Curtis' eyes. "Who else can she be with, if not me? Grandma, she's been by my side since she was 12." Back then, Marceline was just a skinny little girl who was all skin and bones. He'd merely tossed her a piece of bread, yet she treated it like it was a piece of gold.