Ophelia Greene was betrayed by her stepsister Bessie Greene and the love of her life, Cullen Pruitt.

To help them claim the inheritance, Ophelia married a man she despised.

Eventually, she discovered it had all been a lie.

With a triumphant smile, Bessie said, "Ophelia, we're finally getting rid of you. Do you know how much we hate you?

"You're so ugly. I still don't get why Winford liked you. And he even died for you!"

Her words dripped with jealousy.

Ophelia's eyes widened. "What? My husband is dead?"

"Yeah, he's dead. Now it's your turn," Bessie said, holding a gun to her temple.

The gunshot rang out, and Ophelia dropped to the ground.

***

Roger Riddle slammed the brakes, bringing the black sedan to a sudden stop at the intersection. In the back seat, Ophelia's eyes snapped open.

"Ms. Ophelia, get out now. Mr. Cullen is waiting for you over there."

Roger's voice snapped her out of her daze.

Her back was drenched in cold sweat. She was sure the bullet had killed her.

She touched her face, smooth with no burn marks. Then she looked around, trying to make sense of it.

Roger urged, "Ms. Ophelia?"

"Just keep driving."

He froze, then stammered, "But Mr. Winford Pruitt is so sick he's barely holding on. If you go there, you'll walk straight into trouble."

"You heard me. Take me to Sunset Vista," Ophelia replied, her voice shaky but firm.

Inside, she was more than thrilled.

Winford had left Kingchester for Minston to focus on his health, planning to stay for a year. She realized this was the day she moved into Sunset Vista after marrying him, honoring her mother's promise to his family.

Thinking of Winford brought tears to her eyes.

In her past life, she feared and avoided him, yet he was the only one who truly cared for her.

And Ophelia even betrayed him, dragging him down. But in the end, he died to protect her.

Ophelia blinked back her tears.

This was the same day Bessie manipulated her into eloping with Cullen.

Through the rearview mirror, her bloodshot eyes met Roger's.

She knew he worked for Bessie.

Startled, Roger stammered, "O-okay, we're heading to Sunset Vista now."

Her phone buzzed with a message.

Bessie: "Ophelia, leave with Cullen. I'll take care of the rest."

Hatred flickered in Ophelia's eyes as she read it. She turned off her phone without a second thought.

The car rolled on, and she grew restless.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Sunset Vista.

On the second floor, Winford sat tall in his wheelchair, watching the car come to a stop below.

"Mr. Winford, that's Ms. Ophelia," said the man next to him.

He was Graham Burnet, Winford's assistant.

Winford glanced down. "How many have come before her this month?"

Graham hesitated, then said, "Three. She's the fourth."

Winford had announced his search for a wife in the city. Ophelia was his fourth in just a month.

The first bride lasted a week before dying.

The second went insane within two days.

And the third refused to come, screaming she would rather die than marry Winford.

Glenda Pruitt, his grandmother, was deeply worried. After much thought, she decided to let him marry Ophelia, though the engagement was nothing more than a verbal promise.

But then Winford told the family the engagement was off. So why was Ophelia here now?

Graham thought, "None of his wives lasted. With his reputation, I thought she'd run. This is unbelievable."

"Let's go," Winford said in his deep voice.

Ophelia sat nervously on the sofa, her suitcase beside her.

The elevator doors opened, and her heart skipped. She turned and saw Winford in his wheelchair.

His legs were injured in an accident days earlier, leaving him unable to walk for now. Graham wheeled him out to her.

Winford's face was pale yet handsome. With his deep eyes, he exuded calm nobility.

Ophelia stood up awkwardly, her eyes red with guilt.

His face hardened as his interest faded.

"Someone, show Ms. Ophelia out," he called out.

"She's also forced by her family. Not again. I'm not that desperate," he thought.

"Hold on," Ophelia blurted and moved closer to him.

He turned to her, his gaze unreadable. "What?"

His presence remained sharp and commanding even when he was seated.

"I... I've married you. So I'm staying," she said firmly.

She owed him far too much. This second chance was hers to make it right.

Ophelia's thoughts lingered on the truth she had learned in the final moments of her previous life. Tears welled in her eyes.

A brief silence fell between them.

"You're staying?" Winford asked in disbelief.

Women had always avoided him like the plague. She was the first to say that.

He met her gaze—her bright eyes showed no reluctance, only unease, nervousness, and probably guilt.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't moved at this moment.

A tense silence hung in the air as he considered his response.

"Bertha, take Mrs. Pruitt upstairs," Winford said.

His words calmed Ophelia's nerves.

Then in her excitement, she rushed forward and gave him a brief hug. "I'll take good care of you," she said seriously.

It was the closest she had been to him since they first met.

Her face flushed as his scent and warmth registered. She quickly pulled away.

She hurried off, her face burning even after she reached upstairs.

Regret set in quickly—Winford was a germaphobe and hated being touched. She started worrying he might resent her for it.

Winford froze for a moment, trying to process her words.

The warmth of her touch lingered against his chest. His expression changed slightly, as though something about her caught him off guard.

No one had ever said things like that to him.

Graham noticed the look on Winford's face.

He couldn't help but think, "Mr. Winford isn't upset? That's weird. The last time Ms. Lara Gomez tried to hug him, he looked grim and lashed out at her."

Bertha Sherman, the housekeeper, led Ophelia down the corridor.

Ophelia could tell she didn't like her.

They stopped in front of a door. "This one?" Ophelia asked in surprise.

In her past life, she had spent years in this house and knew every corner. This was just an ordinary guest room, far from Winford's.

As his wife, she had expected something better.

Bertha kept her face stern. "You arrived without notice. We'll need time to get a proper room ready. Please just use this one for now."

That was a sound reason, and it wouldn't be wise to challenge someone who had worked for the Pruitt family for years and earned their trust. So Ophelia walked it without a word of protest.

After unpacking, Ophelia decided to take a shower, only to discover that the water system wasn't working. There was no hot water.

Bertha oversaw every detail of Sunset Vista. There was no way she didn't know about this issue, yet she had put Ophelia in this room.

"Did she do this on purpose?" Ophelia muttered, her eyes narrowing.

She stepped out to find another room for a shower.

"A shower?" The maid Madeline Larson hesitated briefly before saying, "Alright, come with me."

Then they came to a much larger room.

"Here you go. You can head in yourself," Madeline said.

The room was well-decorated and luxurious, but its cold tones gave it an uninviting feel.

Ophelia's eyes softened with nostalgia as she realized it was Winford's room.

"Okay, you can get back to work," she said casually, stepping inside. Then she added, "Oh, and bring me some clean clothes."

Ophelia hadn't packed clothes, planning to keep it light while running away with Cullen.

But she knew there were always spare clothes prepared for guests.

Downstairs, Bessie struggled to hide her excitement from the moment she stepped in.

Unlike other women who avoided Winford, she thought differently.

"He's loaded and powerful. I wouldn't mind marrying him, even if he doesn't have much time left. Being his wife would come with so many perks," she mused.

But the bitterness lingered. She didn't see herself as less deserving than Ophelia. Both came from the same family, after all.

Ophelia's mother had long passed away, and Bessie's mother was now the lady of the house. It only seemed reasonable that the engagement should shift to Bessie instead.

"Now's my chance. I'm going to be Winford's wife. Ophelia's such an idiot. A few words from me, and she ran off with Cullen," she thought with a smirk.

"Mr. Winford, this is Ms. Bessie, Ophelia's sister," a servant said.

Bessie looked up, her confidence faltering as she saw him.

Her heart raced uncontrollably.

She had never seen anyone with such striking looks and presence.

Graham wheeled him closer, and Bessie hurried to her feet. "Hi, I'm Bessie," she said, shy and nervous. There was a flicker of hope in her eyes at the idea of becoming his wife.

Winford noticed and asked with an indifferent expression, "What do you want?"

"I'm here to apologize for my sister," she said, putting on a remorseful look. "She's young and a bit gullible. She heard some rumors and got scared. That's why she ran off."

Upstairs, Ophelia finished her shower and realized Madeline hadn't delivered any clothes.

With a slight frown, she opened Winford's wardrobe, pulled out one of his robes, and put it on.

It was far too big for her and dragged on the floor. She adjusted it and tied it loosely at her waist.

As she walked out to find proper clothes, a familiar voice from downstairs caught her attention.

"I'm willing to marry you for my sister. Please don't blame her or hold it against our family."

Bessie sounded like the perfect, selfless sister.

Ophelia's face darkened at her words.

Bessie stood straight and composed, her head high and her eyes slightly red. She waited confidently for Winford's answer.

She believed she wasn't any less than Ophelia. If Winford had accepted her sister, why wouldn't he accept her now?

"Besides, Ophelia has run away with someone else," she thought.

"Bessie, what are you doing here?"

Ophelia's sweet voice suddenly came from the staircase.

Bessie's eyes widened in shock, and she looked up.

When she saw Ophelia walking down the stairs, her face shifted, barely hiding her disbelief.

Winford snapped out of his thoughts about Bessie's suggestion and also looked up. He was struck by how beautiful Ophelia looked at that moment.

Her damp hair was pinned back loosely, her skin glowed with a soft flush, and her eyes were sparkling and captivating.

Ophelia has always been pretty, but she had never held his attention like this.

Then his eyes fell on the robe.

Winford instantly recognized it, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure.

Nearby, Graham and the servants exchanged uneasy glances.

Winford was very territorial. He hated it when anyone touched his things or entered his room without permission. Ophelia had broken every rule right after she arrived.

Bessie's eyes flickered.

Ophelia was so stupid and knew nothing about Winford. Unlike Ophelia, she had known a lot about him from Cullen.

Her gaze swept from the bathrobe Ophelia was wearing to the servants' expressions, and she immediately realized something.

She deliberately asked, "Ophelia, whose robe are you wearing?"

Ophelia was stunned slightly. Then she realized what was going on when she saw the others' reactions.

In her past life, Winford indulged her so much that she could go anywhere in Sunset Vista, including his room.

So, when Madeline led her upstairs, she didn't dwell on it much and entered his room on her own.

Yet she forgot this wasn't her past life. In this life, she had just come to Sunset Vista and was practically a stranger to Winford.

And he happened to be a man who attached great importance to his turf. Only Bertha was allowed to go into his room to clean up.

Realizing this, Ophelia was a bit nervous. Trying her best to be calm, she walked down the stairs and went over to Winford.

"Honey, I forgot to take my clothes into the bathroom. So, I wore your bathrobe. Is that OK?"

Graham was slack-jawed.

Her address for Winford made him wonder if he was hearing things.

The room fell deadly silent.

Ophelia's soft, coquettish voice reached Winford's ears, and he stopped tapping the armrest at once.

He looked at her in silence, his eyes deep.

Meanwhile, Bessie sneered deep down.

In her mind, Ophelia was so ignorant. Winford had seen everything, and of course, Ophelia's child's play wouldn't work.

"OK."

Winford's deep, magnetic voice rang out, breaking the silence.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

Ophelia felt greatly relieved. She smiled brightly, "Thanks, Honey."

She felt both happy and guilty at the same time.

It was the first day she came here, and he was already so generous. Did it mean she meant something different to him?

In her past life, he had been nothing but good to her. Yet, she had believed the rumors and ended up fearing him and hurting him the most.

Suddenly, she sensed Bessie's venomous gaze filled with jealousy.

Her gaze turned cold as she turned around. "Bessie? Why are you here?"

Bessie quickly put away the hatred on her face and forced a smile. "I was a bit worried, so I came here to see you..."

"Oh, really?" Ophelia tilted her head. "But I heard you say you were gonna replace me."

Bessie's expression froze. Glancing at Winford in the wheelchair, she pulled Ophelia aside, lowered her voice, and said anxiously, looking genuinely concerned about Ophelia, "Ophelia, what's wrong with you?

"Didn't I tell you I'd take care of things for you? Why did you come back?

"Mr. Cullen is waiting for you. Are you gonna break his heart? Let's beg for Mr. Winford's mercy and have him let you go. Don't worry. I'm willing to stay here. After all, you and I are sisters. I won't stand by while your life gets ruined."

Ophelia almost sneered.

She had believed in Bessie's words and had been deeply moved.

Yet, after she eloped with Cullen, her family caught her back within a day, tied her up, and sent her to Winford.

Meanwhile, Bessie had offered herself to Winford. Though she didn't end up marrying him, she successfully won the favor of Glenda and reaped a lot of benefits.

"Ophelia? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Seeing Ophelia didn't respond at all, Bessie was a bit anxious.

Ophelia lowered her head to hide her flickering eyes and smiled, saying flatly, "No need. You can go back."

"What?" Bessie was stunned. Then she said hastily, "Are you really gonna break Mr. Cullen's heart? You..."

Ophelia interrupted her, "I'm not together with him. How is this breaking his heart? On the contrary, Winford and I have had a marriage arrangement ever since we were little. Isn't it only right that I marry him?"

In her past life, taken care of by her stepmother Erin Herrera, she had been so clueless. From the beginning, Cullen had approached her with an ulterior motive, yet she remained unaware.

Cullen had never intended to make their relationship official—he had only been stringing her along. Yet, she failed to see it and believed he had his reasons.

Bessie was dumbfounded at Ophelia's words.

She thought, "Ophelia loves Cullen to the core. What's going on?"

As she was about to continue to persuade Ophelia, the latter looked at her skeptically. "Bessie, you said my happiness matters the most, right? Marrying Winford is what I want now. Why do you keep suggesting I elope with Cullen?"

Bessie was stunned and then stuttered, "I thought you loved Mr. Cullen..."

"Who told you that? He's nothing compared to Winford. He kept pursuing me, and I thought it'd be rude to reject him. That's all." Ophelia curled her lip, looking disgusted.

After a moment of silence, Bessie said, "Are you saying Mr. Cullen isn't good enough for you?"

Ophelia sneered.

Countless people tried to butter Cullen up because he was a member of the Pruitt family, and Winford was his uncle. But in fact, Cullen's father was just an unacknowledged illegitimate son of the family.

In short, Cullen's status was unpresentable. Only in Minston, a place far away from Kingchester, could he be fawned on.

"Is he good enough for me?" she asked.

Though the Greene family had been declining after her mother's passing, she wouldn't stoop so low as to marry Cullen, the son of an illegitimate child.

Bessie was finally at a loss for words.

She was still shocked when she left Sunset Vista.

She didn't get it—Ophelia had always been easy to manipulate. What got into Ophelia today?

After getting rid of Bessie, Ophelia had to deal with Winford. She was worried he'd take Bessie's word for it and grow distant with her.

As she was about to explain to him, Bertha suddenly said, "Mrs. Pruitt, you were in Mr. Pruitt's room?"

Ophelia paused.

He didn't give her a hard time about the bathrobe, but it was undeniable that her going into his room without permission was a stupid mistake that upset him.

She blinked and looked at him, saying sweetly, "I came in for a shower..."

"You had to shower in Mr. Pruitt's room?" Bertha frowned and said harshly.

Ophelia glanced at her. "There was only cold water in my bathroom. I don't know what went wrong."

"Bertha?" Winford looked up at Bertha, giving off an authoritative aura. He was asking for Bertha's explanation.

Bertha's expression changed slightly. Winford's previous wives had been provoked like this, but he had never bothered to step in. How come he treated Ophelia differently?

"I'll have someone take a look. Perhaps I overlooked," she apologized at once but still didn't want to let Ophelia off. "Even so, there are plenty of rooms. Mrs. Pruitt, how come you went to Mr. Pruitt's room?"

"I was led there," Ophelia said.

Saying this, she glanced at Madeline standing aside.

She had just been reborn and needed some time to adjust, but Madeline had been a maid at Sunset Vista for years. Of course, Madeline knew about Winford's rules.

Not to mention she had asked Madeline for clothes, but no one sent her anything, and she had to open Winford's wardrobe. She had every reason to believe Madeline did it on purpose.

Madeline's face turned pale, and tears filled her eyes. She begged, "Mr. Pruitt, I did nothing wrong! I pointed at the second bedroom next to the master bedroom. I had no idea why Mrs. Pruitt ended up entering your room!"

Bertha echoed, "Mr. Pruitt, Madeline never lies."

Hearing this, Ophelia knew it'd be impossible to teach Madeline a lesson. After all, Bertha was very important to Winford.

She simply gave up arguing with them. Looking at the handsome Winford, she said, a bit aggrieved, "I'm your wife, and I can't even enter your room?"

The room fell silent at once.

Graham almost choked on his own saliva.

He thought, "Mrs. Pruitt is full of surprises. She seems so tough, dragging Bertha and Madeline into this, and I thought she'd continue to confront them head-on, but..."

He stole a discreet glance at Ophelia, a bit surprised.

Winford's imposing aura and icy expression were intimidating, and only Ophelia dared to coquettishly call him "Honey".

Winford's previous wives couldn't even stop trembling when talking to him.

Meanwhile, Ophelia thought, "Winford is here. Why would I waste my breath on Bertha?"

She blinked, smiling sweetly, "Honey?"

Winford looked at her, his handsome face tense, making him look cold and formidable.

Sensing his long silence, Ophelia grew a bit uneasy.

She thought dejectedly, "Well, it makes sense. This isn't my past life after all..."

Madeline sneered discreetly, thinking, "Mr. Pruitt didn't hold it against her about the bathrobe because he was in a good mood and felt like it.

"But she's nothing special. Given Mr. Pruitt's temperament..."

"You can enter my room," Winford said.

Madeline was dumbfounded.

Ophelia instantly beamed, and she pressed on, "I can enter whenever I want?"

He answered, "You're my wife. Yes."

The servants were all shocked.

Even Graham was stunned.

He thought, "Is this the so-called double standard? None of Mr. Pruitt's previous wives had ever received such a privilege..."

"Thanks, Honey!"

She could go into Winford's bedroom as long as she wanted in her past life, but hearing him say so now still made her very happy. She strode over and wrapped her arms around his arm.

His body tensed immediately. She thought he wasn't used to it and quickly let go, blushing.

"I'm gonna go upstairs to change then," she said softly.

Glancing at the bathrobe she was wearing, Winford asked Bertha flatly, "Where are the clothes for Ophelia?"

After being convinced he treated Ophelia differently twice, Bertha no longer dared to challenge Ophelia. She said, "They're ready."

Winford nodded and then ordered, "Get the second bedroom next to my bedroom ready for her."

He didn't even care which room Bertha had arranged for Ophelia to live in.

Bertha's expression changed, and she wanted to say the second bedroom next to Winford's bedroom was meant for her daughter, but she swallowed her words anyway.

She nodded. "OK."

Ophelia was over the moon.

"Honey, I'm going up!"

She left briskly; her figure soon disappeared in Winford's line of sight.

He withdrew his gaze and unconsciously touched the spot on his arm where she had hugged. He could still feel her warmth...

"I don't want to see her being led to the wrong room again," he said icily.

Madeline's face turned pale at once.

"Yes, Mr. Pruitt..."

After Ophelia went upstairs, it occurred to her she didn't explain to Winford.

On second thought, she didn't think he was upset. Maybe he didn't take Bessie's words to heart.

She felt greatly relieved.

With Winford's instruction, Madeline soon brought her several sets of new clothes and said, "Mrs. Pruitt, the second bedroom will take a little longer to prepare. You may have to wait for a while."

Ophelia was in a great mood. She glanced at Madeline and said, "No worries. I'm not going anywhere."

Suppressing her anger, Madeline stepped out quickly.

"Madeline, did Mrs. Pruitt give you a hard time?"

"It's her first day here, and she's acting so arrogantly. This is so outrageous..."

A few servants soon gathered around her and said both indignantly and disdainfully.

"Mr. Pruitt already said she didn't have to honor the marriage arrangement, yet she still came here. Hey, everyone knows what she and her family are after."

"Exactly. I heard that her family has already reached out to Mr. Pruitt, asking for favors. Gee..."

Just then, a pleasant female voice rang out.

"You know a lot, don't you?"

The servants were startled. Turning around they saw Ophelia around the corner, and their expressions changed drastically.

"Mrs. Pruitt..."

They bowed slightly, sweating profusely.

Ophelia said to Madeline flatly, "You forgot to prepare my shoes."

Madeline apologized, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Pruitt. It's my negligence. I'll go get them right away."

"And we'll go back to our work, Mrs. Pruitt."

The other servants scattered quickly, not daring to meet Ophelia's eyes.

Ophelia's gaze darkened.

She thought, "Favors?

"Of course. That sounds like something my money-driven dad would do.

"I gotta talk to Winford when I have the chance—even if he's handing out favors, I should be the one receiving them. Samuel has contributed nothing and doesn't deserve any favors."

With this thought, she came back to her room. Soon, Madeline brought her shoes over.

She glanced at the shoes. "You may leave them there and go."

Madeline did as she was told. Once outside, she glanced at the door to Ophelia's room, her gaze obscure. Pondering, she took out her phone and sent a message.

"Elva, where are you coming back?"

Elva Sherman was Bertha's daughter.

Shortly after Ophelia went back to her room, a servant knocked on the door and told her the meal was ready.

She was really looking forward to her first meal with Winford after she had been reborn, and she went downstairs at once. However, no one was at the dining table.

"Where's Winford?" she asked.

"Mr. Pruitt is out," the servant replied.

"I see." She was a bit disappointed.

Winford was in a wheelchair yet still went out. She presumed it was something important, and she sensibly chose not to be nosy.

After eating alone, she came back to her room.

Having just been reborn, she had a lot to recall and sort out.

At around 9:00 p.m., Winford came back. Before she stepped out of her room, she heard a loud crash from next door followed by his angry roar.

"Scram!"

Her heart skipped a beat, and she opened the door immediately.

She had a lot to deal with in this life, and Winford's illness was her top priority.

One'd be driven mad when being forced to face one's death desperately. Though Winford usually had his emotions under control, and he seemed pretty normal, he was already on the verge of a breakdown.

Ophelia ran straight to his bedroom.

In her past life, she had been used by Cullen for years. The only silver lining was her exceptional medical skills.

As Ophelia reached the door to Winford's bedroom, she happened to bump into Graham, who had just been kicked out by Winford, and a servant with a medical kit in hand.

The servant's face was pale, and he didn't dare to go inside at all.

Sighing, she reached for the medical kit and said, "Give me that."

Stunned, Graham reminded her tactfully, "Mrs. Pruitt, Mr. Pruitt ... isn't in a good mood now."

She nodded. "I know."

She knew exactly, which was why she was anxious and wanted to go inside. She was genuinely worried about Winford.

Graham pondered for a while. Thinking that Winford treated her differently, he said to the servant, "Give Mrs. Pruitt the medical kit."

Ophelia pushed the door open and walked inside.

The lights in the room weren't turned on. In the darkness, a male voice, full of ferociousness and anger, rang out in front of her. "Get out!"

By the faint light from outside the window, she saw a tall figure in a wheelchair. Though he had his back facing her, she could sense his deep exhaustion and an air of decay; if she hadn't known, she might have thought he was an old, dying man.

Her heart ached violently.

Winford was only twenty-seven!

Had he been like this in her past life, too, spending every day in despair?

Back then, all she had had in mind was to get away from him. It had never crossed her mind to care about him, not even once...

She slowly walked over to him.

Hearing footsteps, Winford reached out at once.

"I said, get out!"

He exerted so much force that Ophelia felt her bones cracking and she couldn't help but cry out in pain.

Recognizing her, Winford loosened his grip.

"Out!" he demanded.

By the faint light from the window, she saw his tensed jawline and charming side profile. Though his expression was hidden in the dark, his aggressive aura was more than obvious.

"Graham said you weren't in a good mood..." she said softly. "I'm worried about you."

"Worried about me?" He didn't seem that aggressive anymore, and she could tell he was looking at her.

"Yes." She crouched down next to his wheelchair, gripping the wheelchair armrest with one hand while reaching for his hand in the dark.

Then she accidentally touched his thigh and felt his muscles tense right away. In the next second, he gripped her wrist again.

But he didn't exert that much force this time. She couldn't break free, but she wasn't hurt either.

"What are you doing?" His voice was strained as if he was suppressing something.

Ophelia felt a bit awkward for touching his thigh—though she didn't mean to. She said innocently, "I wanted to touch your hand, but I couldn't see."

"My hand? Why?"

She gripped his wrist and secretly counted his pulse while saying, "You're in a bad mood, right? I'm just trying to help you feel better."

Winford fell silent.

To her surprise, he didn't pull his hand away.

A moment later, she had a conclusion, and she was both happy and frustrated.

She was happy because she could treat his condition. Now that she was here, those famous doctors' predictions would never come true; he wouldn't die before thirty.

But the tricky part was she didn't have the crucial ingredient for his medication. The ingredient could only be developed after a few months at Sapphire Botanical Institute, her mother's legacy for her.

Besides, it was her grandfather who owned Sapphire Botanical Institute, not her.

Her expression grew complicated as she thought of her grandfather and his family.

"Mr. Pruitt? Mrs. Pruitt?"

Graham's tentative voice rang out outside, snapping her back to reality.

"Yeah?" she said, raising her voice.

Graham was ready to break in. Hearing her loud voice, he was stunned as he loosened his grip on the door handle.

It seemed nothing had happened.

After such a long silence, he even doubted whether Winford had already strangled Ophelia.

It was a miracle that Winford didn't get mad.

In the room, Ophelia let go of Winford's hand.

She then cautiously offered, "How about I turn on the lights and change your gauze?"

After a moment of silence, Winford said, "No need."

She was a bit anxious. "But your injury..."

"Tell Graham to come in here."

She beamed. "OK!"

She didn't care who changed the gauze. Her only concern was he wouldn't let anyone near him, which would do no good to his injury.

Immediately, she ran to open the door. "Graham, come in here and change Winford's gauze!"

"Huh?" Graham failed to react.

"What are you waiting for?" Winford said coldly.

Graham came back to his senses. Walking past Ophelia, he glanced at her in shock.

He thought, "She managed to appease Mr. Pruitt in such a short time?

"She's something."

Ophelia sensed Graham's complicated gaze.

She was puzzled for a second.

But instead of dwelling on it, she went back to her room, feeling good.

Remembering that her phone had been off for a day, she turned it on.

In the next second, she received Cullen's call.

Her gaze turned cold as she rejected it and blocked it without any hesitation.

Then Samuel called her.

"How come your phone was off all day?"

As soon as she answered, he questioned her coldly.

She lowered her head and said flatly, "The battery died."

"You're at Sunset Vista, right?" Samuel asked.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"You better behave. Now that you're married to Mr. Pruitt, don't do anything over the line. Make a clean break with certain people," Samuel warned her sternly.

She squinted. "Certain people?"

"Stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. Bessie had aslipofthetongue, or I wouldn't have known you wanted to elope with another man! Thankfully, Bessie knew better and talked you out of it, or our whole family would have been doomed.

"You know how influential Mr. Pruitt is, right? No one could afford to mess with him."

Bessie?

Ophelia's gaze turned icy.

Bessie had aslipofthetongue? Bessie talked her out of it? How laughable.

Samuel had two reasons to call Ophelia today. "Now that you're Mr. Pruitt's wife, find a chance to discuss funding for our family company with him."

Ophelia rolled her eyes and said, brushing him off, "He's not that easy to talk to. Later, perhaps."

Then she hung up, not bothering to say anything else.

Meanwhile, Samuel flew into a rage. "What a damned girl! This is her first day getting married! And she dared to disobey me already?"

Erin was sitting next to him. She comforted him, "I'll ask Ophelia to come back tomorrow and talk to her. She's always listened to me."

Samuel's expression softened slightly.

He patted her hand and said gently, "Thanks for treating her so nicely over the years. You think of her as your own daughter, and of course, she listens to you."

That was what he valued most about Erin. Ophelia was the daughter of him and Harriet Whitaker, his late wife, but Erin never mistreated Ophelia. Instead, she had always doted on Ophelia. Those who didn't know would think Erin was Ophelia's real mother.

"It's what I should do," Erin smiled gently. "Harriet was like a sister to me. Of course, I'd treat Ophelia well."

At Sunset Vista.

After the call with Samuel, Ophelia suddenly remembered that she hadn't reminded Winford.

She went to his bedroom again.

Graham had already left, and the door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open and glanced inside, seeing no one in the room. Since the bathroom light was on, she figured Winford was in the shower.

After a moment of hesitation, she was about to leave when she heard a loud bang from the bathroom.

Her expression changed as she rushed inside and slammed the door open without thinking. "Are you..."

A second passed.

Another loud bang rang out.

She yanked the door shut without the slightest hesitation.

The door shuddered violently from the great impact. Standing next to it, Ophelia felt that her mind was completely blank, blushing utterly.

Two rooms on both sides of the door fell silent.

After a few seconds, Winford's voice rang out. "I knocked over the shampoo."

"Yeah, I-I saw that," she stuttered.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I-I'm here because ... my dad wants a favor from you..."

Winford's expression froze slightly. For some reason, he felt disappointed, and the faint flutter in her heart vanished right away.

Rumors had it that he was a crazy, cruel lunatic who was going to die. It made sense that she married him because she wanted something.

But on the first day? It was so soon. He couldn't help but feel let down.

"Don't say yes."

"What?" he instinctively said.

Ophelia thought he hadn't heard her words, so she emphasized, "If he uses me as an excuse and wants you to do anything—for example, funding my family's company—don't say yes! Just ignore him."

It took Winford a few seconds to process what he heard.

"Why?" then he asked.

Why?

Ophelia blinked. "Why? Why do you think? I'm married to you, OK? I wasn't sold to you. Since I'm your wife, I have every right to spend your money. But you're not obliged to spend any money on my family."

Her words left Winford stunned.

He remained silent for a while.

Then he said slowly, "OK."

For some reason, his deep, magnetic voice made Ophelia slightly nervous. Coupled with what she had just seen...

She blushed. "Alright then. I'm going back to my room. Rest early. Goodnight!"

With that, she fled away, missing his response as she closed the door.

"Goodnight."

Once back in her room, she blushed again, her cheeks burning.

Though she had married Winford in her past life and had gone out with Cullen, she had never done anything intimate with either of them. What she saw was simply mind-blowing.

She got up early the next day.

Thinking that she could enjoy breakfast with Winford today, she walked downstairs eagerly.

Yet, she was the only one sitting at the dining table.

"Where's Winford?" she couldn't help but ask.

He was out already?

Bertha replied tonelessly, "Mr. Pruitt doesn't have the habit of eating with others."

Ophelia was stunned.

She never knew.

In her past life, all she'd wanted was to stay away from him, so naturally, she never noticed.

Honestly, she was a bit disappointed.

She was given a second chance. Was she not good enough this time? He actually didn't want to eat with her.

She took a few bites and then stood up.

"Where's Winford?"

"Mr. Pruitt is busy. Even if he isn't, he prefers to be alone." Bertha pulled a long face. "Mrs. Pruitt, if you don't have anything important, maybe you shouldn't disturb him."

Ophelia stopped in her tracks. "What did you call me, Bertha?"

"Mrs. Pruitt," Bertha answered.

Ophelia smiled, though her eyes were devoid of any emotion.

"So, you do know I'm Winford's wife, the hostess. Do you think you get a say in whatever I do? Winford can tell me himself whether he wants to be disturbed or not. Others should just shut their mouths up. What do you think, Bertha?"

Bertha's face turned livid at once.

Ophelia walked away before Bertha could say anything.

Bertha was the housekeeper who had waited on the Pruitt family for years. Out of respect, Ophelia had no intention of making Bertha an enemy. But it didn't mean she'd suffer in silence now that Bertha was openly challenging her.

She came upstairs, but there was no sign of Winford. Instead, she saw Graham at the study door.

"Is Winford in there?" She walked over.

"Yes. Mr. Pruitt is busy," he replied respectfully.

"I see." She was a bit down since she didn't get to see him. "I'm going back to pay my family a visit. Could you tell him that?"

In the morning, Erin called her, wanting her to go back. She didn't want to at first, but then she changed her mind because she had to retrieve something.

Graham nodded.

Then she went back to the Greene's house.

The second she walked inside, a gentle, elegant middle-aged woman walked over and smiled at her tenderly, "Ophelia, you're back."

It was Erin.

Ophelia stared at the smile on Erin's face, her eyes darkening for a second.

Fooled by Erin's gentle facade for years, she had once treated Erin as her own mother. How ridiculous.

With a half-smile, she said, "Yeah."

Erin paused slightly. For a second, she sensed something off in Ophelia's tone, which made her uneasy. She couldn't help but feel Ophelia was like an entirely different person.

But, upon closer look, it was still that foolish, gullible Ophelia who was standing in front of her. She figured maybe she overthought it.

Then she pointed at Samuel, who pulled a long face, and said a bit reproachfully, "Samuel is your father. There's no need to throw a tantrum with him, right? Go and apologize to him."

Apologize?

Ophelia couldn't see why. For turning down Samuel's request? Or hanging up on him?

She had to admit each word Erin said was the result of meticulous calculation.

In her past life, she had longed for Samuel's love. Had Erin put it differently, her past self might have willingly walked up to Samuel to apologize.

But the word "apologize" provoked the rebellious side of her.

Thinking about it, Erin was one of the big reasons why she had a strained relationship with Samuel.

But she wasn't planning on getting back at Erin because of it. In this life, she never wanted to have Samuel's love back anyway.

She said, "I'm going back to my room to fetch something."

Then she left, not even glancing at Samuel this whole time.

Erin sighed, feigning helplessness, "Ophelia is still mad. Don't take it to heart."

Her remarks enraged Samuel even more. Seeing this, she curled her lips imperceptibly.

Neither Samuel nor Erin felt anything off about Ophelia. Since Ophelia and Samuel had never got along, she often clashed with him.

Standing at the door to her room, Ophelia looked inside. Her heart clenched with unspoken sentiment as she saw those furnishings that were both familiar and foreign.

She rummaged through the cabinet while being guided by memory.

She had left something important here—Harriet's medical notes. It was the only reason she came back today.

Harriet was a renowned genius doctor, and countless people sought to obtain her medical notes. In fact, Cullen approached her for Harriet's legacy, too, which included those valuable notes.

A few minutes later, Ophelia's expression changed.

The notes were gone!

In Ophelia's past life, Cullen came back to retrieve the notes for her after such a long time, and the notes were still here.

Wait.

Ophelia squinted.

Cullen had been hooking up with Bessie behind her back all this time. Maybe he didn't get the notes from here.

Immediately, she had a speculation.

She went out.

It just so happened that Bessie came back.

"Ophelia, you're back." Bessie put on a hypocritical smile. "What happened? You look terrible."

Ophelia glanced at her. "Something valuable of mine is missing. Has any of you even entered my room?"

Samuel snapped, "What do you mean? Are you saying one of us stole your stuff?"

Ophelia said flatly, "I left it in my room. If it wasn't either of you, then it must have been a thief. What kind of thief could sneak in here without being seen by anyone?"

"Maybe the servants lost it when they were cleaning," Erin said, smoothing things over. "Ophelia, what thing? Could you tell us?"

"My mom's notes."

Immediately, the other three people fell silent.

Everyone knew about the notes. Once, someone offered millions of dollars to buy the notes, but Ophelia didn't agree. They were indeed valuable.

Soon, the servants were summoned and lined up.

Their expressions changed when they knew something worth millions of dollars was missing, and no one dared to say a word at all.

Bessie sighed, looking helpless, "Ophelia, the servants didn't know the notes were worth that much. Maybe they thought the notes were just some papers and dumped them when cleaning your room. You can't blame them for not knowing, right? Maybe we should just drop it. Even if you know who did it, no one could pay you millions of dollars anyway. What are you gonna do then? Force them? Corner them? Make them beg you? Just let it go."

The servants immediately shot her grateful glances.

Meanwhile, they complained about Ophelia deep down, thinking, "Sure enough, Ms. Bessie is much kinder and more generous than Ms. Ophelia. Does Ms. Ophelia really want us to beg her?"

Ophelia smiled coldly.

Then she said to the servants, "My cabinet is locked. No one could open it unless they were set to steal something from there. So, it's impossible that the notes were dumped when you were cleaning. I gathered everyone here to give whoever did this a chance to come clean; after all, you've been working for us for years. You really think I have no proof?

"But... Since you don't appreciate the chance, I'll call the cops then. Let the laws decide the thief's fate."

Saying this, she took out her phone to make a call.

Bessie's heart skipped a beat, and she asked subconsciously, "What proof?"

Ophelia's eyes darkened slightly as she glanced at Bessie. "I've got a camera—it's at the top right corner of the desk. None of you have noticed?"

Bessie's expression changed at once.

Now that she thought about it, there was indeed something resembling a camera on Ophelia's desk.

Seeing that Ophelia was about to call the police, she strode forward and snatched Ophelia's phone away, throwing caution to the wind.

Immediately, all eyes were on her.

Ophelia looked at her meaningfully. "Bessie, what are you doing?"

"I..." Bessie forced a smile. "It just occurred to me that maybe I have the notes."

"Oh?" Ophelia said, her tone suggestive. "I've been asking them for such a long time already, yet you remembered nothing. Now it suddenly rings a bell after I said I'd call the cops?"

The servants' gazes on Bessie changed slightly.

A few minutes earlier, Bessie had defended them when they might be falsely accused, and they were grateful to her. But now, upon knowing she might be the thief, they felt different.

It was way too coincidental that Bessie remembered now.

Their gazes made Bessie utterly uneasy.

Cursing Ophelia under her breath, she forced a smile and explained, "Lenora came here before and said she wanted to take a look at the notes, so I came to your room and took them. I didn't put them back right after she left, and it has been so long, so I kind of forgot about them..."

Lenora Whitaker was the daughter of Ophelia's uncle.

"Oh, I see," Ophelia smiled coolly. "Then please give them back to me, Bessie. Also, let me remind you something. The notes are my mom's legacy, and you know exactly how valuable they are. Maybe you should keep your hands off them from now on. Or those who don't know might think you wanted to steal them."

The smile on Bessie's face froze. She gritted her teeth, saying, "Fine. I'll go look for them."

Soon, she came back and walked over to Ophelia with a locked box in her hand. The notes were inside.

At first glance, Ophelia knew Bessie had never been able to unlock the box.

She took the box and went back to her room to pack up.

She packed up everything related to Harriet and then those she deemed important, which filled an entire suitcase.

Erin walked to the door, and her expression changed. "What are you doing, Ophelia? You aren't coming back in the future?"

Ophelia answered, "I'm now married and have my own home. I'm not coming back."

As she thought of Winford, she smiled sweetly and was instantly in a better mood.

After Harriet died, this place was no longer her home. It was a shame she never realized it sooner.

From now on, wherever Winford was would be her home.

"Still, you don't have to take so many things with you. What will people think if they see this?" Erin blamed her though sounding gentle.

"No. I'm gonna take them with me. What if someone steals them again?"

Bessie, who had just walked over, heard Ophelia's words, and the gentle smile on her face cracked.

Ignoring Bessie and Erin's expressions, Ophelia walked toward the door while dragging the suitcase. As she was about to leave, she thought of something, turned around, went back, and took something that looked like a camera on the corner of her desk.

Then she dumped it into the trash can.

Bessie was stunned.

Ophelia said, sounding innocent, but her tone was suggestive, "Oh, I forgot to tell you that it's just an ornament. It's not some camera at all. I said that because I wanted to lure the thief out. What a surprise... It was actually you, Bessie."

Bessie's face twisted out of anger, which made Ophelia feel good. She then left with her suitcase.

She went back by cab, and she hailed a cab to go back to Sunset Vista.

Back at Sunset Vista, she noticed the odd atmosphere right after she stepped inside.

At the sight of her, the servants were startled, but none of them told her what was going on. Instead, they all instinctively glanced up towards the upstairs.

There was anticipation and schadenfreude in their eyes, and Ophelia could tell they were waiting for the spectacle starring her.

Before she could ask anything, a voice rang out from upstairs.

"Toss this out. And this. Who put those crap in here? Didn't I tell you already? This is my room. No one can step inside without my permission!"

The voice belonged to a teenage girl.

Ophelia's eyes darkened as she handed her suitcase to a servant. "Take this upstairs later."

Then she walked upstairs straight to the second bedroom.

A fashionable teenage girl with delicate makeup was sitting on the bed, ordering the servants to clean up the room, looking no different from the hostess.

The clothes Ophelia had put in the wardrobe were all out here.

And Ophelia's suitcase, which had been in the corner, was dragged out and placed in the middle of the room randomly like trash.

Ophelia's gaze turned icy.

"Mrs. Pruitt..."

The two servants saw her, and their expressions changed. At a loss of what to do with her stuff in their hands, they stood in situ, instinctively looking at the teenage girl.

Ophelia's gaze fell on her, too.

She recognized the voice when she was downstairs—it was Elva, Bertha's daughter.

Bertha's late husband had been the Pruitt family's driver and died saving Glenda in an accident. From then on, Bertha and Elva were treated as more than just the family's maids.

Though Elva was just Bertha—the housekeeper's daughter, Glenda treated her nicely. As time went by, Elva got carried away and thought of herself as no different from the heiress of the Pruitt family.

In Ophelia's past life, Elva had caused trouble for her a lot of times.

"Who said you could touch my stuff?"

Standing at the door, Ophelia looked around at her messy room and asked coldly.

The servants parted their lips but didn't dare to utter a word.

"These are yours?" Elva stood up, sizing Ophelia up. "Why are they in my room? Are you a new maid? Didn't anyone tell you that you couldn't enter these rooms without permission? Only the Pruitt family can step inside."

She sounded condescending as if Ophelia really were just a maid.

However, given Ophelia's temperament and attire, no one would mistake her for a maid.

So, either Elva was blind, or she deliberately said so.

Elva wasn't blind, obviously.

And she wasn't deaf either—she clearly heard those two servants address Ophelia as "Mrs. Pruitt".

Ophelia looked up lazily.

Ignoring Elva, she asked the servants, "She doesn't know who I am. Is she a newly hired maid?"

Elva froze slightly. Then she looked down at her expensive clothes, which clearly distinguished her from the maids.

"I'm not a maid!" she said loudly.

"Who are you then?" Ophelia asked.

"I'm Elva Sherman."

Her tone carried a blend of reserve and faint arrogance, as ifOphelia should have recognizedherthe momentshegaveher name.

To her surprise, Ophelia crossed her arms, looking puzzled. "Elva who? I've never heard such a name."

"You..." Feeling humiliated, Elva bit her lip. "Bertha is my mom!"

"Oh. So, you're Bertha's daughter." Ophelia nodded. Secretly sneering, she thought, "What a 'big shot' Bertha is. Had I not known better, I might've thought she ran this house."

Then she continued, her voice flat, "In other words, you're not the hostess of Sunset Vista. Who said you could come into my room?"

Her words were like a hard slap in Elva's face.

Elva suppressed her anger and smiled provocatively, "Mr. Pruitt said I could live here."

Winford said this?

Ophelia didn't buy it for a second.

If so, he wouldn't have agreed to let her live here.

She put on a half-smile in response to Elva's lie and said, "You said yourself earlier that only the Pruitt family can step inside. Know your place before you say anything. For the sake of Bertha, I'll let this slide and take it that you went into the wrong room."

Ophelia knew Elva enough to know Elva hated it the most when others brought up her background. Elva never introduced herself as a maid's daughter and deliberately led others to believe she was the heiress of the Pruitt family. So, Ophelia said so on purpose. Sure enough, Elva pulled a long face.

Ignoring Elva's expression, Ophelia glanced at the servants and ordered, "Restore my room before Winford comes back. This is your only chance. Better take it."

With that, she turned to leave.

Those in the room were intimidated by her sudden commanding presence and fell silent for a few seconds.

The servants exchanged glances and then looked at Elva uneasily. "What to do, Elva?"

Suppressing her anger, Elva responded, "What do you think? Don't tell me you're gonna do as she says. Bring my stuff in here!"

"What if she tells on us to Mr. Pruitt?"

"Let her. Who do you think he'll side with? Me or her?" Elva sneered while lifting her chin.

Seeing her like this, the servants immediately remembered that she had done the same to Winford's previous wives, and Winford had never bothered to intervene. So far, Elva had never been punished.

Thinking this, they were no longer uneasy.

At Sunset Vista, buttering up Winford's wife wouldn't do them any good, but buttering up Elva was another story.

Ophelia went downstairs while her attention was still on upstairs.

She noticed no one came out of her room.

Smiling coldly, she didn't go back upstairs.

Winford came back two hours later.

Her eyes lit up as she heard the door opening, and she walked out to greet him briskly.

Graham pushed Winford's wheelchair inside, and a few other subordinates followed behind them.

"You're back!"

As Winford looked at Ophelia running toward him with a bright smile, his eyes which were always deep and icy softened for a second.

He nodded, and then his gaze fell on the suitcase she brought back from the Greene's house next to the couch. He said, "You just came back?"

She shook her hand and said coquettishly, "I've been waiting for you for more than two hours."

Her words tugged at Winford's heartstrings, but soon, his gaze darkened as he glanced at her suitcase again. "Then how come your suitcase is still here? The servants wouldn't obey your orders?"

Clearly sensing his displeasure, a maid nearby panicked.

With a pale face, she looked at Ophelia pleadingly, hoping Ophelia could explain. "Mrs. Pruitt..."

She didn't dare to disobey Ophelia's orders at all. But the second bedroom was occupied by Elva, so how was she supposed to take Ophelia's suitcase up there?

Glancing at the maid, Ophelia knew she wasn't part of Elva's gang, so she said, "It's not her fault..."

Before she could continue, Elva walked downstairs.

Surprisingly, she was dragging a suitcase behind her, seemingly about to leave.

At the sight of Winford, she ran over happily. "Mr. Pruitt!"

In the next second, she saw Ophelia next to Winford. Immediately, her eyes turned red, and her smile seemed less genuine.

Ophelia squinted, thinking, "What's Elva up to now?"

"Hey, Elva, you're back," Graham greeted Elva casually because he was more familiar with her. "What's with the suitcase?"

"I..." Elva looked aggrieved as she shot a quick glance at Ophelia. "Someone can't stand seeing me here. I better move out, Mr. Pruitt."

Ophelia immediately knew what Elva was up to.

Instead of saying anything, she stood aside and watched the drama unfold with interest.

"Move out? What happened?" Graham asked after glancing at Winford, who remained silent.

"Someone here thinks I'm an eyesore." Elva glanced at Ophelia and bit her lip, suppressing her sadness though her eyes had turned red. "She said I'm the maid's daughter. I don't deserve..."

Hearing this, several of Winford's subordinates cast unfriendly gazes at Ophelia.

They often chatted with Elva and were friends with her.

Since Elva glanced at Ophelia, everyone knew who Elva was referring to.

"Elva is Bertha's daughter. Only Mr. Pruitt gets to decide whether she can live here or not."

One of Winford's subordinates, Alfred Duarte, glanced at Ophelia coldly and then said so.

Ophelia remembered Alfred. He was very loyal to Winford, young, and impulsive, and he had a crush on Elva. He ended up being dead because of her.

Under their hostile gazes, Ophelia remained unfazed. She looked at Winford and asked delicately, "Honey, I'm the hostess of Sunset Vista, right?"

Though she had called him "Honey" a bunch of times, his heart still couldn't help but flutter whenever she said this word.

Looking into her crystal-clear, charming eyes, he leaned back in his wheelchair at ease, his eyes darkening. Then he said unhurriedly, "Of course."

"Then ... who's she?" Ophelia pointed at Elva.

Nobody knew what answer Ophelia was expecting, so no one dared to answer. Only the honest maid replied, "Mrs. Pruitt, Elva is Bertha's daughter."

Then Ophelia said casually, "I see.

"Does Bertha's daughter outrank me, the hostess of Sunset Vista?"

Elva's expression changed slightly.

Just as she was about to retort, Winford opened his mouth.

"Who told you that?"

"Am I wrong?" Ophelia tilted her head. "Otherwise, how come she dares to occupy my room and toss my stuff into the guest bedroom?

"I'm the hostess of Sunset Vista, and I get the guest bedroom. She's the maid's daughter, and she gets to live in the second bedroom. Is this how things work at Sunset Vista?"

The room fell silent at once.

Alfred and the others didn't know anything about this and looked at Elva in shock.

A trace of panic flashed across Elva's face. "Mr. Pruitt, I didn't know she was your wife..."

"Gee, do you need a hearing aid?" Ophelia interrupted her coolly. "The two servants next to you addressed me as 'Mrs. Pruitt' so loudly, yet you didn't hear that?"

Elva's expression froze.

Biting her lip, she looked at Winford, aggrieved. "Mr. Pruitt, you promised me that you'd reward me if I did well in the SAT. I want that room..."

The second bedroom was the closest room to Winford's at the entire Sunset Vista. She wanted that room!

Ophelia squinted at once.

She thought, "What? A reward? Winford takes his promises seriously. What if he lets her have that room?"

She turned her gaze toward Winford.

Before he could say anything, she said, beating him to it, "Honey, you won't sit around while watching a maid's daughter push me around, right?"

She sounded willful but not annoying. Widening her eyes slightly, she waited for his answer.

Elva's face turned livid.

She hated it the most when being called a maid's daughter.

Winford met Ophelia's eyes and saw the nervousness on her face; he didn't say anything at once.

Sensing his silence, Ophelia was even more uneasy. She widened her eyes even more.

Then he said, "No, I won't."

Breathing a sigh of relief, she beamed, her eyes lighting up.

Elva couldn't help but exclaim, "Mr. Pruitt?!"

Winford continued, his tone flat, "Indeed, I said I'd reward you. But that doesn't mean I'll say yes to your unreasonable requests. For example, letting you have the room of the hostess of Sunset Vista and seeing her being forced to live in the guest bedroom."

No one said anything.

Elva's expression changed a few times. She was slack-jawed as she had never expected to be turned down by Winford.

Ophelia almost chuckled out loud when she saw Elva's expression. Suddenly, she sensed Winford's gaze on her and held it back, blinking at him innocently.

She didn't notice his eyes that darkened suddenly. Turning around, she asked Elva with a smile, "By the way, you mentioned you were moving out? Where to? Have you found a place to live? Do you want me to help you fix a place?"

Elva didn't know what to say.

She suppressed her anger, her face almost twisting.

Under everyone's gaze, she muttered, gritting her teeth, "I'm not moving out..."

She braced herself to say so, no longer caring about the others' opinions of her or how big a joke she was.

All she knew was that moving out would cost her too much.

Not anyone got to move into Sunset Vista, and she was only allowed to live here because Bertha had begged the Pruitt family for a long time. If she moved out, she wouldn't have an excuse to move back here.

"Alright. Go and restore my room then. Put all my things back in their original places and take away all your stuff. It's not hard, is it?" Ophelia commanded matter-of-factly.

Elva's eyes turned red out of anger.

She realized in Ophelia's eyes, she was nothing but a maid.

But since Winford was present, she didn't dare to voice any objection. She could only nod, feeling humiliated. "I see."

As she was about to go upstairs, Ophelia glanced at her suitcase and then offered enthusiastically, "Hey, the suitcase seems too heavy for you."

Then she ordered a maid, "Give Elva a hand."

The maid stepped forward.

Elva tried to stop the maid, but it was too late.

The maid had already lifted the suitcase.

Puzzled, she blurted out, "It's empty!"

The others were stunned.

Feigning surprise, Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "You were gonna move out, right? Why is your suitcase empty?"

Sensing all those subtle glances cast upon her, Elva was both embarrassed and furious, her hatred toward Ophelia reaching its peak.

"I'll go get your room ready."

She snatched her suitcase back and almost fled.

Ophelia turned around and happened to meet Winford's meaningful gaze.

She instinctively averted her gaze, knowing he had seen through her and her little tricks.

But, on second thought, she did nothing wrong. After all, Elva messed with her first; why couldn't she fight back?

Thinking this, she threw out her chest and looked back at him, saying confidently, "Honey? What's up?"

Winford's eyes, which were always deep and icy, were briefly lit up with a faint smile that was almost imperceptible.

"Nothing," he said. After a pause, he added, "Who threw out your things?"

Was he going to stand up for her?

Ophelia's eyes lit up. She immediately turned around and pointed at two figures without hesitation once she locked her eyes on them.

"Them!"

The two servants who had buttered Elva up turned pale at once.

"M-Mr. Pruitt, we take orders from Elva. That's all. She ordered us to get the room ready for her! We simply followed her order! We knew nothing!"

Winford didn't care about his previous wives, and Glenda was very fond of Elva. The two servants figured that buttering Elva up would do them good, so they were bold enough to toss Ophelia's stuff out. They had never expected things to turn out like this!

After all, Winford had always been indifferent to everything.

Their clumsy excuses were laughable.

Winford didn't even spare them a glance. He tilted his head and said to Graham, "Ask Bertha to deal with them."

Graham nodded.

Realizing they were doomed, the two servants regretted it so much.

On the contrary, Ophelia felt so sweet. She trotted over, took over Graham's job by pushing Winford's wheelchair, and asked, "Where were you today?"

Alfred chimed in, "Mr. Pruitt's business remains confidential. Mrs. Pruitt, it's better if you stay out of it."

His impression of Ophelia was terrible because of what had happened to Elva.

Ophelia tried her best not to roll her eyes in front of him and said straightforwardly, "So, you know I'm Winford's wife? Who says you get to interject when I'm talking to him?"

"You..."

"Enough," Winford said coldly, the warning in his tone unmistakable.

Alfred immediately shut his mouth.

Ophelia snorted and raised her chin at Alfred triumphantly.

Alfred pulled a long face.

But she didn't care. Instead, she turned her attention back to Winford, wanting to know what he had been up to earlier.

But Winford didn't answer her. He just said, "Go back to what you were doing. Graham can wheel me to the study. I have things to do."

He sounded patient and gentle, but it was also obvious that his decision was beyond dispute.

Seeing Graham take over the wheelchair again, Ophelia felt a bit down, knowing she hadn't entirely gained Winford's trust.

She didn't dare to ask further. Winford was very keen, and the last thing she wanted was for him to suspect her of being up to something.

She decided to drop it for now. She had ample time, and the person who would betray him and cost him a leg in the future hadn't shown up yet, so she assured herself not to worry too much.

But...

As Winford was about to go into the elevator, she caught up with him.

"Honey..."

The wheelchair stopped, and he turned around. "What's up?"

"Can we have dinner together?" She looked at him with anticipation in her eyes, and even her voice was coquettish.

She hated sitting in the dining room and eating alone; she wanted to share a meal with him.

Winford looked at her, not responding at once. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Don't go back on your word!" she smiled brightly.

His stern expression softened a bit. "I won't."

Watching him enter the elevator, Ophelia walked upstairs briskly.

Thanks to Winford's instructions, her bedroom was soon restored. As she reached upstairs, she happened to see Elva walk toward the guest bedroom with her stuff in her arms and a sullen face.

Elva saw her, too. Sneering, Elva walked over and was about to say something.

Ophelia beat her to it, saying unhurriedly, "Think carefully before you say anything to me. If I'm upset because of your words, I have every right to kick you out. After all, I'm Winford's wife, and you're just a maid's daughter."

Elva was choked on her words. "You..."

"Me what? Move. You're blocking my way. Didn't Bertha teach you to read the room?"

Elva was utterly furious.

But Ophelia didn't give a damn. She walked toward her bedroom.

Just then, she heard Elva's malicious voice behind her.

"You really think Mr. Pruitt is that into you? I'll wait for the day you get ruined.

"I'm so curious. Will you be sent to a psychiatric hospital or carried out by an ambulance?"

Ophelia squinted.

Elva thought her words got under Ophelia's skin and walked away quickly, feeling great.

Ophelia went back to her room thoughtfully.

Winford had three wives before her. One was dead, one ended up crazy, and one was taken back by her family before she set foot in Sunset Vista.

It was the same in both her past and present lives. Yet, even now, she still had no idea what had happened to those first two women.

Rumor had it that Winford was a psycho who did that to them.

But she didn't believe it.

Winford was nothing of that sort.

As she thought of the truth she had learned before her death, her heart arched bitterly.

She opened her suitcase and set aside the things she had brought back from the Greene's house. Finally, she took out the locked box, entered the right password, and retrieved the medical notes.

To be precise, it wasn't just Harriet's notes. There were also many lost prescriptions that had been existing for years, and that was why many people were eyeing these notes.

There were two copies of the notes. Ophelia had one, and the other was at her grandfather's place. Harriet had wanted him to safeguard numerous assets for Ophelia, including Sapphire Botanical Institute which Ophelia had always longed for.

However, in her past life, she had never had any of those things till the day she died.

She flipped through the notebook. As her gaze fell upon one prescription, she suddenly thought of someone.

It was Clinton Weaver, her teacher in her past life.

Clinton and his wife had had a boy late in life, and they doted on him a lot. Unfortunately, the boy had been born with an incurable illness. Despite Clinton's desperate efforts, he still hadn't been able to save his son.

Clinton was a leading authority in the medical field, but he could do nothing but watch his son die. It was a huge blow that almost collapsed him.

The prescription recorded in Harriet's notes could have saved Clinton's son. However, by the time Ophelia read about it, his son was already gone. It became Clinton's greatest regret.

At this moment, Ophelia was so glad again that she had been reborn.

She immediately took a photo of the prescription.

Just then, she stopped—she didn't know Clinton's number.

She had met Clinton on a medical forum in her past life.

In this life, it wasn't time for her to meet him yet, but she presumed his account had already existed.

Her eyes lit up as she quickly searched for the forum, registered an account, and looked up.

She found his account!

As she was about to send him the photo, she stopped.

It seemed too obvious.

Clinton's son was sick, and she—a stranger in Clinton's eyes, happened to send him a prescription that could help? It'd make her seem nothing but suspicious.

Pondering, she took photos of two other prescriptions and sent them to Clinton, saying she wanted to pick his brain on them.

Clinton's account on this forum was famous, and a lot of people sought his guidance every day. She was sure she wouldn't look suspicious by doing this.

Setting down her phone, she was about tohop in the shower when her phone started blowing up with messages.

C.W. texted her, "Where did you get those prescriptions?"

Before she could reply, C.W. sent her, "Could we meet?"

At the same time, Clinton clutched his phone, waiting for Ophelia's reply eagerly, ignoring his wife who was urging him to eat.

His wife was puzzled. "Clinton, what's wrong?"

"Finally... Chad can be saved!" Clinton was excited. "You don't have to prepare those things anymore!"

His wife widened her eyes, her voice trembling. "Really?"

They had been quietly making funeral arrangements for their son, Chad Weaver, ever since learning his illness was incurable. And now, Clinton told her she didn't have to make any preparations anymore!

Meanwhile, Ophelia pondered for a while and then turned down Clinton's request.

For now, she had a lot of things to do.

But she was confident that in the near future, she'd become Clinton's student once again through her own merits.

At dinner time, Ophelia went to the dining room full of anticipation.

Winford had promised to eat with her.

There was no one at the dining table. She sat down, patiently waiting for him.

But he was nowhere to be seen even as dinner time passed.

She couldn't help but glance at upstairs. "Where's Winford?"

Bertha answered flatly, "Mr. Pruitt has something to do."

"He said he'd eat with me. Did you call him to come down?"

"Yes. He's busy. Mrs. Pruitt, you may eat without him."

Ophelia glanced at Bertha and stood up to go upstairs, not saying another word.

Bertha pulled a long face and wanted to stop her, who dodged nimbly and went upstairs.

As Ophelia walked to the door to the study, she knocked on the door. Graham came over to open it and was surprised to see her. "Mrs. Pruitt?"

She looked inside. "Is Winford still busy?"

Before Graham could say anything, Winford's deep voice rang out from inside.

"What is it?"

Graham moved aside sensibly.

Without him blocking her view, she saw Winford sitting at the spacious desk right away.

He had just put down a file and was tilting his head to look over. His side profile was charming, his temperament was noble and elegant, and his aura was authoritative.

Her heart skipped a beat uncontrollably.

She couldn't help but wonder, "He's so attractive. How come I missed it in my past life?"

"Time for dinner," she reminded him tactfully while leaning against the door frame.

Winford glanced at the time and finally remembered his promise.

"Sorry. I forgot about it."

"No worries. I'm here to remind you, aren't I?" She ran over to take the wheelchair, beating Graham to it.

Graham was about to take over the wheelchair, but since Winford didn't say anything, he withdrew his foot discreetly.

Winford and Ophelia went downstairs.

At the sight of them, Bertha paused, her expression changing slightly.

Upon seeing the food on the table, Winford said, "Next time, just send a servant upstairs; no need to go yourself. You can start without me."

Ophelia glanced at Bertha. "I told Bertha to call you, but she said she had already done it, and you told her you were busy and were going to skip dinner."

Bertha's heart skipped a beat.

Noticing Winford's gaze on her, she said hurriedly, "Yes, I remember I did go upstairs. I didn't? Well... I guess I'm getting older. My memories are slipping away from me..."

"My bad. I overlooked that. Bertha, have someone else do it the next time," Ophelia said, her voice brisk and pleasant to the ear. "Or I'd miss the chance to eat with Winford again."

Then she shook Winford's hand and said coquettishly, "Right, Honey?"

Her sudden intimate gesture made Winford freeze a little bit. He lowered his head to look at her hand clinging to his arm and didn't pull his arm away.

He was a bit distracted and nodded, without even sparing Bertha a glance. "Yes."

Bertha was dumbfounded.

Then she was furious.

She thought, "Why so dramatic? Stop making a big deal out of this! And Mr. Pruitt actually indulges her? How infuriating!"

Ophelia noticed her expression and smirked.

After dinner, Alfred showed up again.

He was both Winford's subordinate and doctor.

When Ophelia went back to her room, she saw him and Elva standing at the door to the master bedroom, and Elva had a medical kit in her hand.

He was instructing Elva a few tips when changing Winford's gauze.

Ophelia squinted at once.

Elva was going to change Winford's gauze?

She was Winford's wife. Why was Elva needed?

Upon seeing her, Elva smiled provocatively.

She raised the medical kit and straightened her back, saying, "Mrs. Pruitt, if you're gonna say anything to me, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. I'm about to change Mr. Pruitt's gauze."

With that, she was about to go inside.

In the next second, Ophelia took the medical kit away.

"What are you doing?" The smile on Elva's face vanished.

Ophelia said, "Thanks, but you won't be needed. I'll do it."

"On what grounds?" Elva snapped.

"On what grounds?" Ophelia grinned. "Great question. Because I'm Winford's wife. Why would I let you do it?"

After saying this, she walked inside elegantly, ignoring Elva's sullen face.

In the room, Winford had just come out of the bathroom. He had changed into a bathrobe, his firm, sexy chest faintly visible.

Ophelia glanced over, and the scenes from last night flashed across her mind reflexively right away. Even her ears turned red.

"You?" Winford was surprised to see her.

One word from him calmed her down immediately.

She felt upset, thinking, "Why? Can't it be me?

"Who's he looking forward to seeing? Elva?

"If I hadn't seen Elva at the door, she would have come in already."

Thinking of this, she felt even more down. She said, "I'm here to change your gauze."

After a pause, Winford said, "You don't have to do this. Go and take a rest. Let someone else handle it."

"Who else?" Ophelia blurted out. Then, realizing her tone was a bit harsh, and it sounded like she was questioning him, she cleared her throat and added, "I'm your wife. Who else but me?"

Though they hadn't registered their marriage yet because of his leg injury, it was only a matter of time. So, she said matter-of-factly with a huff, "I insist!"

Winford was at a loss for words.

He didn't want her to see his hideous wound, so he refused her tactfully. Yet, seeing how stubborn she was, he felt a bit helpless, which was quite rare.

"Come here then."

His injury was on his right calf, and as she unwrapped the gauze, she saw the extremely horrifying wound.

Her hands trembled a bit.

Looking down at her, who was crouching in front of him, Winford asked gently, his eyes obscure, "Are you frightened?"

"No." She lowered her head to take out the ointment, her voice muffled. "I'm just thinking it must hurt terribly."

She had seen more gruesome wounds, and she wasn't scared at all. She simply felt bad for him.

Winford was stunned for a second by her reaction.

"It doesn't hurt," then he said, his voice hoarse.

But she didn't buy it at all.

She dressed his wound seriously and sighed a breath of relief after she wrapped fresh gauze around his wound.

"Alright then. Go back and get some rest," he said gently.

She nodded, packed up the medical kit, and then left.

As she stepped out of the door, she saw Elva nearby. Seeing her, Elva glared at her bitterly.

She was in a bad mood again. "Why are you still here?"

"Mr. Pruitt wanted me to dress his wound!" Elva said.

After a pause, Ophelia repeated, "He wanted you to do it?"

Elva snorted triumphantly, "What do you think? So what you replaced me? He kicked you out so soon."

Ophelia lowered her head slightly and walked quickly back to her room without responding to Elva's provocation.

Early the next morning, Winford showed up in the dining room, which was rare.

But Ophelia was still down.

Unlike her usual self, she seemed listless throughout the entire meal, which caught his attention.

"Who upset you?" Winford asked.

Ophelia glanced at him, whining silently.

Then she answered, "No one."

Watching her walk away, Winford hesitated for a long time before asking Graham aside, "Why is Ophelia upset?"

Graham was slightly surprised, thinking, "Seriously? Since when does Mr. Pruitt care about anyone?

"And how would I know? I'm not her husband."

Though he thought so, he didn't dare to say it out loud.

Pretending he was experienced, he said, "Sometimes reasons aren't important. You just need to cheer her up."

Pondering, Winford figured his words made sense. "How?"

Graham racked his brains and suddenly thought of something.

"Mrs. Pruitt is a student at Ventura University, right? Since they've been offering to send you roses recently, why not have them delivered to her?"

Ventura University was a prestigious institution with a hundred-year history, and it was also known for its sea of roses, which always attracted countless tourists when they bloomed in summer. Among them grew rare varieties cultivated by the university itself, and these exclusive roses would be cut and gifted as honors.

Of course, not just anyone could receive these roses. Since there were so few cuttings, the receivers were either famous alumni or outstanding students, and most of them took pride in having them.

Ventura University had been reaching out to Winford, inviting him to an event, but Winford wasn't quite interested, leaving Graham to deal with them.

Yesterday, Graham received a call from the university, asking about Winford's preferred varieties. When others could only accept what was sent to them, Winford could name any variety he wanted.

Yet, though the roses meant a great honor to others, Winford didn't take them seriously at all, and of course, so did Graham. He replied that flowers weren't to Winford's liking."

Graham suggested, "Since Mrs. Pruitt is a student at Ventura University, my guess is, she's interested in the roses. Mr. Pruitt, it'll be a big surprise if you give her the roses."

After thinking about it for a while, Winford nodded. "I'll leave you to it."

Graham nodded and called Ventura University's coordinator right away.

The coordinator was very delighted and said, "Of course. It's our honor that Mr. Pruitt likes our roses. We'll deliver them now!"

Ophelia didn't know anything about the surprise. She had received a call from Erin and was on the phone now.

Erin's birthday was next week, and there would be a party. Erin invited her and probed, "Maybe Mr. Pruitt will have some time to attend, too?"

Ophelia almost burst out laughing.

Erin knew exactly how influential Winford was.

Those big shots in Minston couldn't have the privilege of inviting him to their birthdays. What made Erin think she could?

"I don't think so," Ophelia said straightforwardly.

Erin said, "Why? Didn't you tell him? I know that given our family's status, we aren't qualified enough to have him, but you're his wife now..."

"I told him already, of course," Ophelia interrupted. "He said he'd be there for my mom's birthday. But you're not my mom, aren't you?"

The smile on Erin's face froze.

Her expression darkened as soon as she hung up the phone, feeling deeply irritated. She wondered if Ophelia had said so on purpose.

She thought, "Am I overthinking it? If it were in the past, the old Ophelia I raised would never have spoken to me like this. She was so stupid. But it seems something has changed. Ever since she married Winford, she has changed! That damned girl!"

Ophelia was in her bedroom in Sunset Vista.

After hanging up, she smiled sarcastically as her gaze fell on the phone screen.

Meanwhile, Elva was in the guest bedroom not far away from her.

She was engaging passionately in Ventura University's freshman group chat, blending in effortlessly while enjoying the attention.

Walking to the windows, she took a photo of the garden downstairs and posted it in the group chat.

Elva: "The sun is scorching. I don't wanna step out at all."

In the photo were all sorts of precious flowers and plants, which were apparently taken care of meticulously. Coupled with the size, layout, and facilities of the garden, anyone could tell Elva's "family" was rich.

Everyone else exclaimed.

Jenny: "Wow! That's amazing! Elva, your family's garden is gorgeous. Where do you live? Can we hang out there sometime in the future?"

Being envied and fawned upon, Elva felt great.

After quite a while, the others gradually calmed down, and the subject was changed.

Nikki: "The uni is doing its rose giveaway again this year. A senior I know got some. Gee, I'm green with envy. But I don't think I ever get to be so lucky. My grades are so poor."

John: "It's not entirely depending on grades. If you come from money or power, they'll send roses to you, too. Some freshmen have already received some."

Jenny: "Seriously? Elva, are you one of them? If so, could I have one stem? Just one will be enough. Pretty please?"

Being tagged, Elva didn't reply. She tossed her phone away and then snatched it back after a second, wanting to say that they were making a fuss over some roses and that she could have anything she wanted.

Just then, Madeline knocked on the door. "Elva, someone from Ventura University sent roses here. Are they for you?"

Elva's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes lit up. She sprung to her feet, saying loudly, "Where?"

She then ran downstairs and indeed saw roses there. However, the person who brought them over didn't say they were for her. Instead, he said, "We hope Mr. Pruitt likes them."

Elva asked, "Mr. Pruitt wants them?"

The man nodded. "Yes."

Thrilled, Madeline nudged Elva. "I bet these are for you! No one else here has ties to Ventura University."

Elva's heart was racing.

Madeline continued, "Mr. Pruitt promised to award you after you were admitted to Ventura University, and that bitch snatched the second bedroom away from you. This must be Mr. Pruitt's way of making it up to you."

Overjoyed, Elva reached out, saying to the man, "Mr. Pruitt isn't here. I'll take the roses."

As the man left, the servants around fawned on Elva with smiles, saying, "See? Mr. Pruitt cares about you a lot, Elva. How thoughtful of him to make it up to you in this way."

"So true. He gave the flowers to you instead of Mrs. Pruitt. You do know what this means, right?"

Someone said bluntly, "You know what? I think in no time, we'll be addressing Elva as Mrs. Pruitt."

Blushing, Elva felt both complacent and shy. Lifting her chin, she said, "Enough, guys. Go back to work."

She skipped up the stairs with the roses in her arms.

Once back in her room, she immediately took photos of the bouquet from different angles and posted them to the group chat.

Elva: "Check these out!"

Nikki: "Holy crap! That's a huge bouquet! It's at least three times bigger than what my senior has received! And, if I'm right, those are the rarest variety!"

Jenny: "Elva, please! They are so pretty! Can I have a stem? You're the best!"

Elva didn't know anything about roses, but their excitement alone was enough to make her feel good.

Elva: "Really? These roses are different from others? I had no idea."

Pleased, she agreed readily to Jenny's request.

Meanwhile, Ophelia received a call from Winford.

He said, "Have you received my gift?"

Winford's deep, magnetic voice made Ophelia's ears tingle.

In the next second, she was stunned. "What gift?"

"A bouquet," he said. "Graham told me it's been delivered. It's probably downstairs. Why don't you take a look?"

Winford actually sent her flowers!

Ophelia was very surprised, her foul mood vanishing.

"Alright! I'll go downstairs now!"

Sensing how joyful she was, Winford couldn't help but smile, his expression softening.

With her phone in hand, Ophelia was about to go downstairs.

Opening the door, she saw Elva, who was going downstairs, too, with a beautiful bouquet in her arms.

Ophelia was stunned.

"Where did you get these?"

Elva smiled complacently, "Mr. Pruitt wants me to have them. They're so pretty, aren't they?"

"Winford wants you to have them?" Ophelia was very suspicious.

She thought, "Did Winford send both of us bouquets? Seriously?"

Immediately, she felt down again.

She walked past Elva and went downstairs, asking the servants, "How many bouquets were sent over?"

"One, of course." Madeline realized something when she saw Elva, who had come downstairs, too. She smiled with disdain and said to Ophelia, "Mrs. Pruitt, don't tell me you think it's for you. It's a gift from Mr. Pruitt to Elva."

The other servants looked over either intentionally or unintentionally, thinking to themselves that Ophelia was no different from Winford's previous wives.

After all, Winford sent flowers to Elva instead of her.

They secretly exchanged glances and were ready to see a drama unfold.

Upon knowing that there was only one bouquet, Ophelia was no longer upset. She turned around and extended her hand to Elva. "It's not for you. Give it back."

"Not for me? What makes you say that? Are you implying it's for you?" Elva snorted and held the bouquet tightly in her arms. "These roses are from Ventura University. They're Mr. Pruitt's reward for me because I'm about to study there. You want these? Try getting admitted to Ventura University first."

Ophelia scoffed, "I hate to break this to you, but I was accepted last year. The bouquet is for me. Give it!"

Elva's heart sank.

She thought, "What?

"Ophelia is a student there, too?"

The other servants were stunned, too.

Tightening her grip on the roses, Elva had a bad feeling. Instead of letting go, she insisted stubbornly, "I didn't see your name on the bouquet. Besides, Mr. Pruitt didn't say it's for you."

No longer bothering to argue with her, Ophelia took out her phone and dialed the number from earlier.

Elva panicked. "Wait..."

Yet, the call was already connected.

Ophelia said to the phone, "Honey, is your gift for me roses from Ventura University?"

She put him on speaker.

In the next second, everyone present heard Winford's voice. "Yes. Graham mentioned many students there wanted them, so I had a bouquet delivered. Do you like them?"

Madeline was slack-jawed.

Meanwhile, the other servants all looked at Elva.

Elva froze, feeling utterly humiliated.

"I do, but I don't have them," Ophelia answered while glancing at Elva.

Winford's voice turned deeper, and she could even imagine him frowning.

"What happened?" he asked.

She said, telling on Elva without hesitation, "Elva has them. She said they're a gift from you to her and wouldn't give them back to me."

"You..." Elva glared at Ophelia, having the urge to rush forward and cover Ophelia's mouth.

At the same time, Winford said, "I'm coming back."

Then he hung up.

Elva's face turned slightly pale.

She knew Winford well enough to know he was mad.

Glaring at Ophelia with great hatred, she stuffed the bouquet in Ophelia's arms rudely. "Here! I don't want them anyway."

Ophelia took a step back, not accepting the bouquet. "You don't want them? But you were drooling over them a minute ago, weren't you? Take them then. I'll wait for Winford to come back."

With that, she sat on the couch.

Elva was seething with rage.

Soon, Winford was back.

Hearing the door opening, Ophelia stood up. "You're back!"

He nodded. The radiant smile on her face told him she hadn't been bullied, which softened his expression a little.

Then his gaze shifted to Elva.

"Mr. Pruitt..." Elva stood in situ nervously. She had put the bouquet on the coffee table before he came back.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Beats me," Ophelia snorted and walked over to push his wheelchair, and Graham sensibly walked aside. "I was thrilled when you told me you had a gift for me, and when I came downstairs, Elva told me it was hers. How come?"

Winford wanted to know the answer, too.

Frowning, he looked at Elva, waiting for her explanation.

"I ... thought it was for me, Mr. Pruitt," Elva said, looking aggrieved.

Winford said, "You thought?"

In the next second, Ophelia said, "For the sake of argument, let's say you genuinely believed that at first. But you didn't give it back to me after I told you it was my gift. Let me think. Oh, and you laughed in my face. Your exact words were, 'Try getting admitted to Ventura University first.' Right?"

Elva froze.

Then she glared at Ophelia with hatred and resentment.

Fuming, she thought, "It was just a misunderstanding. Why is Ophelia making a big deal out of this? Does she really have to corner me completely?"

Meeting Elva's gaze, Ophelia smiled, though her eyes were devoid of any emotion.

If it had truly been a misunderstanding, she would have let it go. But Elva's attitude was infuriating, and a lesson was necessary to make Elva respect her as Winford's wife.

Elva's eyes turned slightly red as she looked at Winford. "Mr. Pruitt, you promised you'd give me a gift..."

Seriously?

Hearing her words, Ophelia couldn't help but cast a glance at Winford, feeling bitter somehow.

Winford was such an indifferent man, yet it seemed he cared about Elva a lot.

Sensing Ophelia's gaze, Winford paused slightly before correcting Elva, "I never promised you any gift. When you received the letter of acceptance, you said you wanted a reward, and I agreed as a courtesy to Bertha. But you still haven't decided what you want till now."

Realizing it was a request from Elva, and he had never promised her any gift, Ophelia brightened again.

On the contrary, Elva felt embarrassed, her cheeks burning.

She thought, "Am I overthinking it? It seems Mr. Pruitt is eager to distance himself from me..."

"Well then. Tell me now. What do you want?" Winford continued in a flat tone, his patience wearing thin.

Glancing at Ophelia, Elva bit her lip. "I want a bouquet exactly like Mrs. Pruitt's!"

The smile on Ophelia's face vanished as she turned to look at Winford at once.

It was the first time he had given her flowers.

If he really gave Elva an identical bouquet, she'd be utterly irked!

She glared at Winford, looking half furious and half pitiful, as if saying, "Don't you dare say yes!"