Look

"Take a good look at yourself, Irene, before making such claims. Do you really think my brother cares about you? Clearly, he doesn't, and you need to realise that," Theodore's voice grew darker, not because she called him by his name, but because she had the audacity to threaten him, something no one had ever done in his entire life. Irene's threat, using his own name against him, infuriated him even more, an act he found utterly disrespectful.

Irene knew deep down that Theodore was speaking the truth. Why would he care about her when he didn't even bother attending their wedding? He wouldn't care about her now either.

But she just wanted to intimidate him, to make him feel some shame. Even if his brother was disabled, Cyril had never shown any respect or care for Theodore, just like the rest of the Jones family treated her.

"Get this through your head, Irene. Theodore won't care about you, even if you die right here," Theodore's tone remained firm as he chuckled, offering a proposition. "But maybe, if you give me a chance, you might benefit from being married to a Myers. Financially or otherwise, I can provide for you." He found himself oddly amused by this situation, more entertained than he had ever been before.

This woman annoyed him, but she intrigued him as well. He couldn't deny that she pushed him to engage in conversation far more than he normally would.

"I don't need anything from the Myers family, Cyril. I just want you to leave my place. This apartment is mine, and I'm content with what I have. You already know I'm a replacement bride, so why waste your time on someone as unattractive as me?" Irene firmly rejected him, her tense expression revealing her hope that he would simply leave her alone.

It had been an exhausting day for Irene, and she longed for some peace. Her feet ached from the discomfort of running and walking in those unfamiliar and revealing shoes. She had never worn such attire before, as the Jones family had always provided her with different garments, especially for her stepsister, Misha. She despised wearing such outfits.

"That's not how it works. If I say you need something, then you do. You can't refuse me," Theodore persisted, unable to let go of the audacity Irene had shown him. People trembled before him, even without revealing his true identity. His mere presence was enough to shake them to their core. Yet she not only slapped him but also pushed him to his limits, proclaiming that she wanted nothing. It annoyed him to no end.

Was she trying to tell him that she didn't marry for money? Regardless of the Jones family's coercion, Theodore believed that blood showed its true colours without any prompting.

"I'm sorry. I apologise for slapping you. Isn't that why you're angry?" Irene finally realised the depths of her own pathetic state. She was prepared to beg for mercy, just as she had always done in the Jones family. However, she refused to compromise her virtue in such a manner. She wouldn't stoop so low.

She wouldn't betray her husband, even if their marriage was just a piece of paper. Her name was bound to Theodore, and she refused to engage in any dirty business.

Theodore kept his expression neutral, but he was surprised to see the fear and desperation in Irene's eyes. Her body trembled in his grasp, a sight he had once relished. But now, it didn't feel as enjoyable. He realised he couldn't continue scaring her like this when they could both find pleasure in other ways. Time was on their side; there was no need to rush everything today.

"Very well, how about doing something else to show your apology?" Theodore backed away, giving Irene some space. She slid down onto the floor, her beautiful white dress resembling that of an angel, despite her supposedly ugly face. Theodore could still see the underlying beauty that captivated him.

"I'm sorry. Please tell me what you want me to do as an apology, but please don't force me," Irene raised her tear-filled eyes, attempting to hold back her emotions but failing. It wasn't an easy task; she couldn't comply with everything demanded of her. She just wanted peace.

Today was the day every mother dreams of for their daughter, and Irene received it as a gift from her own mother, who cared more about pleasing her stepdaughter, Misha. She had always known her mother didn't truly care for her, but it still hurt to witness her betrayal. And now, this guy was ruining it all for her. She was already on the edge, walking a thin rope, and he was pushing her to fall, something she couldn't allow.

She wouldn't give up on her life, no matter how much she suffered or cried. She wouldn't surrender.

"Enough with this melodrama. Drama runs in your blood, doesn't it? Forget it. How about cooking something for me? A delicious meal might help me forgive you," Theodore's gaze remained fixed on Irene as she looked back at him with teary eyes. He could sense that if she blinked, tears would stream down her face. It was an image he found less pleasing.

Irene was confused. Why did he want her to cook? What was happening? She couldn't comprehend how he could act so normal, as if he hadn't done anything, calling her the drama when he was the one responsible for putting her in this anxious situation.

"Now you understand. I hate waiting," Theodore commanded as he walked and settled onto the small sofa in her shabby living room.

"Yes!" Irene stood up on her weak knees, feeling as if she would collapse again if she remained standing. "Go quickly," she hurriedly made her way to the kitchen, her heavy gown making it even harder for her. She didn't care about the strain on her body; all she wanted was to escape from Theodore's sight.

Theodore watched her, a small smile forming on his lips. She was undoubtedly the most foolish person he had ever encountered, but he had never met anyone who could stand up to him like she did. Most people trembled in fear at the mere thought of him, yet his own wife stood before him, not out of closeness, but out of a fear of being touched. He didn't particularly enjoy it, as he believed he had rights over her.

Yet, in some twisted way, he found it strangely endearing. She was oblivious to his true identity, as he had introduced himself as Cyril, just like everyone else. That way, no one would discover his real persona, a cripple hidden behind the mask he wore. It was all part of his plan, the plan he had been waiting to unfold since his childhood.