Chapter 11 Her Desire to Hide

"Mm." Violet Leach gave a small nod. Caleb Leach stared at her for a long while but couldn't detect the slightest trace of deception on her face. So what she said must have been true. "Sis, you rest well. I promise—within a month, I'll heal your face completely," Violet promised. Caleb opened his mouth slightly. Words of gratitude caught in his throat, leaving him unable to utter a single syllable. "You rest first. This is just a regular ward—unsuitable for proper recovery. I'll go arrange to have you transferred to a VIP room," Violet said, gently helping Caleb lie down. Heaven Leach really had a heart of stone. As the company's CEO, he still let his own son stay in a common ward. "Violet, take this card. It has fifty thousand dollars I've saved up," Caleb said, pulling a bank card from under his pillow and handing it to her. Seeing the card in Caleb's hand, Violet felt a sudden wave of sorrow. She could understand it for herself, but Caleb was the eldest son of the Leach family. Even though his face was disfigured, he had been working tirelessly for Heaven Leach at the company. And yet, he'd barely managed to save fifty thousand dollars. She remembered that last month, Rosalie Leach had bought a Chanel bag that cost exactly that much. "Brother, keep the card. I have money." "But—" "Brother, you've always protected me. Now it's my turn to protect you. Trust me—I have the ability." Violet stared straight into Caleb's eyes, her gaze filled with determination. Caleb's lips trembled slightly. He'd wanted to say something, but seeing Violet's serious expression, how could he not believe her? "Alright. Then let me have my little sister take care of me for once." A genuine, heartfelt smile bloomed across Violet's face. After staying with Caleb through lunch, Violet returned to the Merritt family villa. Just as she reached the front gate, she saw Wesley Merritt deliver a brutal kick that sent a man kneeling on the ground crashing down. This was the first time since arriving at the household that Violet had seen Wesley in such a dangerous, bloodthirsty state—like a demon risen from the eighteenth level of hell. Come to think of it, the gentle Wesley of the past few days had made her let her guard down. Who exactly was Wesley Merritt? He was the man who had single-handedly crushed his three uncles and seized control of the Merritt family! Without ruthless decisiveness and iron-fisted authority, how could he have become the family's patriarch? Recalling how she'd pinned him beneath her just yesterday, teasing him playfully, Violet couldn't help but shiver. Thankfully, Wesley hadn't held it against her. Otherwise, she might have been kicked out of the Merritt family immediately—making her mission nearly impossible to complete. As these thoughts crossed her mind, Wesley's cold, dark voice rang out. "Speak. Who ordered you to hit my brother?" At those words, Violet instantly turned her attention inward, curious. So the accident involving Oscar Merritt wasn't an accident at all—it was deliberate! Who dared to target the second heir of the Merritt Group? Did they have a death wish? Zachary Strong knelt on the ground, begging for mercy. "No one ordered me! I was drunk that night, Mr. Merritt! I'm sorry for what I did to your brother! I was wrong—please, have mercy on me!" Wesley narrowed his pitch-black eyes—dark as the deepest night—and stared at Zachary, his gaze devoid of any human warmth. "I've had you investigated. You're just an ordinary taxi driver. Yet two days before the accident, fifty thousand dollars was suddenly transferred into your account." Hearing this, Zachary's heart sank. His entire body began to tremble. "I—I—my friend—transferred it to me." No sooner had the words left his mouth than Wesley kicked him hard in the shoulder, then pressed his heavy leather shoe down, the sound of bone creaking beneath. "Ah—ahhh!" Zachary screamed in agony, like a slaughtered animal. "Your friend? You have a friend who can wire you fifty thousand dollars? I've had your friends and relatives investigated—they don't have the means to send you even ten thousand!" As he spoke, Wesley continued to stomp on Zachary with his boot. "Aaaah! It was really an accident! No one—no one told me to do it!" Zachary screamed until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed unconscious. Wesley's lips tightened into a thin, icy line. His face was as cold as winter wind, as if draped in eternal frost. "Drag him away. Lock him up. Interrogate him every day." "Yes, sir." Just as Wesley finished giving his orders, he spotted Violet walking in. "You saw everything?" Wesley clenched his fingers, his lips pressed into a straight, expressionless line. "Mm." Violet followed the men dragging Zachary with her eyes. Actually, she had ways to force the truth out of Zachary—hypnosis was her specialty. But doing so would definitely raise Wesley's suspicions. "Do you think I'm cruel? Terrifying?" Wesley studied Violet's reaction. She'd been staring at Zachary—surely she'd been frightened by his brutal methods? Of course. Though she acted fearless around him, that was only because she assumed he was a refined, cultured elite. That's why she dared to be so bold. But just now, she'd seen his savage, bloodthirsty side. How could an ordinary wealthy girl not feel fear? Most likely, she'd now avoid him like the plague—maybe even demand a divorce at the civil registry. Just as Wesley was thinking this, Violet picked up a tangerine from the table, peeled it, then casually sat on the sofa with one leg flung over the other, looking completely relaxed and at ease. "Cruel? That's cruelty? That man hurt your family. Honestly, if someone harmed my closest loved one, I'd be far more ruthless." As she said this, she thought of Caleb, suddenly feeling a deep sense of empathy for Wesley. Wesley's sharp eyes gleamed as he looked at Violet. He hadn't expected her to say anything like this. "You're not afraid of me?" "Huh?" Violet blinked. "Afraid? Why would I be afraid of you? I haven't hurt your family." A faint, upward curve tugged at Wesley's lips. His gaze toward Violet gained a new spark. "This tangerine is pretty good." Violet said, stuffing a segment into her pocket. "Take the whole dish upstairs." Wesley said. "Aren't you having any?" "You take it up." "Oh, then I won't be shy." Violet grabbed the entire plate and carried it upstairs. Wesley watched her disappear into her room before turning to the butler. "Stock more of this variety of tangerine." "Yes, Mr. Merritt." After dinner that night. Wesley went to Violet's bedroom door and knocked. No response. She's gone out? Frowning, Wesley turned to leave—then noticed the door wasn't fully closed. Listening closely, he could faintly hear singing from inside. "Knock knock knock—" Wesley knocked again. Still no answer. After a brief silence, Wesley pushed the door open and stepped in. The room was empty. The singing came from the bathroom. She's bathing? Then I'll wait a moment. Wesley placed the handbag he was carrying onto the bed. Inside was the evening gown he'd prepared for her—the weekend's banquet for Mr. Cooper's birthday required a proper dress. "La la la la—" Violet sang as she wiped herself dry, only to realize she'd forgotten her nightgown. Guess I'll have to walk out wrapped in a towel. *Thud.* The towel dropped to the floor—wet. Ugh— Looks like my luck's been off today. Annoyed, Violet tossed the damp towel aside. It was her room anyway—no harm walking out like this. With that thought, Violet stepped out of the bathroom completely naked. The next second, she froze at the sight of Wesley sitting on the bed.