Chapter 4 Something's Off with Violet

The girl stood in serene stillness, as if a celestial maiden had stepped from a classical painting. She descended the staircase slowly, like a spirit emerging from an ancient scroll. While Wesley's gaze remained locked on Violet Leach, Oscar watched her too. Could this truly be the same plain, unremarkable girl from moments ago? Had he not seen her walk out of that room himself, he would never have believed this woman was the same person who had married his elder brother—Violet Leach. Violet approached Wesley and offered a subtle smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting." Without hesitation, she sat down, crossing one leg over the other, as if the place belonged to her. Wesley's eyes followed her movements, and gradually, he noticed what she wore. That was his shirt. Sensing his stare, Violet explained, "There were no other clothes in the room. I couldn't exactly come out wrapped in a towel." Wesley stared at the shirt—normally crisp and rigid on him, now draped over her slender frame, accentuating soft, undulating curves beneath the fabric. Her damp hair hung loosely about her shoulders, lending her an untamed, feral beauty. Water droplets traced down the strands, slowly blooming across the front of the shirt like ink on rice paper, revealing hints of what lay beneath. At the sight, Wesley's jaw tightened. He removed his suit jacket and tossed it toward her. "What? I'm not cold," Violet protested. "Put it on. Or go back upstairs." His voice left no room for refusal. Violet glanced down at herself. So Wesley really was as cold toward women as the rumors claimed. True, she wore little beneath, but the shirt was long—longer than a typical skirt. Was he really that uncomfortable? What a prude. She grumbled inwardly as she slipped on the jacket. If it weren't for her mission, she wouldn't bother with him at all. "Mr. Merritt," she said, now fully covered, "say what you need to say plainly." "Fine. I'll be direct. I know your motive." Wesley fixed her with dark, inscrutable eyes. Violet's pupils narrowed slightly. Though surprised, her face betrayed nothing. Had he figured out she was Lone Wolf? That she was here on a mission? As her mind raced, Wesley's low, mellow voice cut through the silence. "You're using me to get back at the man who betrayed you." Huh? Violet froze, her thoughts momentarily stalled. "Am I wrong?" His tone was utterly certain. "Oh! Right, right! No wonder you're the head of the Merritt family—seeing right through my little scheme," Violet seized the opening. "That blind fool wasted all my love, then ran off with another woman on our wedding day. And to save that scheming little thing, he tried to drain my blood! Did he think I, Violet Leach, couldn't survive without him? I'll show him—I'll find another man just to spite him!" Oscar interjected, "Then why pick my brother?" It was the very question Wesley wanted answered. "Because your brother is stunning! A thousand times more handsome than that scoundrel. To hurt a man, don't you choose someone even better? That's the only way it stings properly." Violet spoke with such conviction that her expression showed not a trace of deceit. A faint smile tugged at Wesley's lips. Her words stirred something in him—something unfamiliar. Then he caught himself. So what if she praised his looks? He'd heard countless compliments, enough to make his ears numb. He'd never reacted before. Why now? "Don't flatter my brother so much!" Oscar shot her a sharp look. Violet shrugged. So she'd been seen through. Wesley sat upright, his broad frame imposing as he studied her. "I don't care about your motives. I married you to fulfill my grandmother's dying wish—and because you promised to heal my brother's leg." "Don't worry," Violet replied, her delicate, painted eyebrows arching with confidence. "If I say I can heal it, I will." Looking at her like this, Wesley felt an inexplicable flutter in his chest, his gaze lingering on her despite himself. Seeing Wesley still staring, Violet assumed he still doubted her. To ease his mind, she pressed on. "As for daily life, I won't intrude. Treat me like the most familiar stranger. I'll even pay living expenses for food and drink. How's that?" Wesley frowned, about to speak, when Oscar cut in. "You'd better keep your word! Don't start scheming for my brother just because he's handsome and wealthy." Violet stood, brushing a few loose strands from her temple behind her ear, then shifted her gaze to Wesley. "Mr. Merritt," she declared, "I swear—I will never set my sights on you, nor will I ever fall for you." As she spoke, she noticed Wesley's expression darken. Violet lightly frowned. Hadn't she made herself clear? Why didn't he believe her? "Fine, I'll swear! Is that what you want?" She raised three fingers skyward. "I, Violet Leach, swear upon the heavens—" "Enough!" Wesley snapped, his chest rising with a deep breath. He lifted his eyes to the standing Violet. "How long will you stand there dressed like that in front of me?"