Chapter 143: Stupid Woman

Frederick was surprised that Caroline would do this on purpose. He had thought she merely tore her clothes by accident. He reached out to adjust her clothing.

Caroline was taken aback, staring at him wide-eyed and seeing no hint of desire in his calm demeanor. She was already like this, but Frederick remained unaffected. Clenching her fists, she felt a surge of hatred thinking about him sleeping with Claire. She had been by his side for four years as Anna’s younger sister. What made Claire better than her?

Four years ago, Claire was the eldest daughter of the Prescott family. The disparity in status and background would be fine. But now, she was just a criminal with a criminal record.

“Frederick, I like you. L…” Caroline was unwilling to give up. In a desperate move, she removed her underwear and spoke directly to Frederick.

“You’re having a fever and talking nonsense. Someone, go call the family doctor,” he ordered, ignoring her. Pushing her aside, he left to order someone to call the doctor.

Overcome by fever and weakness, Caroline collapsed on the floor, her eyes burning with rage. She thought, “Claire, you bitch!”

Half an hour later, the family doctor arrived.

“It’s just a cold. The fever is high at 102 degrees Fahrenheit. One injection will cure it.”

After administering the injection, the doctor left. Frederick, still troubled by the earlier incident, instructed a maid to look after Caroline before returning to his room.

Once inside, he felt an unexpected irritation and heat, especially as images of Caroline’s earlier vulnerability flooded his mind, quickly shifting to thoughts of Claire. At this time, he had not yet realized that Caroline had tampered with the food.

After many years in the army, he was promoted to general and took charge of the entire Kingstown Security Department—a position that demanded extensive training. This amount of medicine was nothing to him. In military training, hallucinogens and booster shots were nothing. Otherwise, how could they deal with those terrorists? It would be useless even if Caroline drugged him more.

Despite not realizing it, he felt an urge to go to Claire’s apartment. After standing by the window for a moment, he drove straight there.

When he arrived at the apartment, it was already very late. Claire had eaten dinner and was hungry again, so she had just made some midnight snacks and was eating them. Hearing the noise at the door, she looked up. She really didn’t expect Frederick to come over at this time. The moment she looked up, she was eating a mouthful of pasta.

Frederick was equally taken aback, watching her freeze with half a stick of pasta dangling from her mouth. When she saw him appear, she stopped there, maintaining that posture, the pasta still bouncing around her mouth. For some reason, Frederick’s mood lifted at the sight.

Claire, realizing her awkward position, quickly slurped the pasta down and asked, “Do you want some?” It would be awkward if she didn’t ask in this situation.

“Sure,” he replied, feeling hungry as well. Claire got up, relieved she had cooked enough for both of them.

Just as Frederick sat down, he heard a crash from the kitchen as a dish was broken.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he rushed in.

“Nothing, just cut my hand,” she said, trying to pick up the broken plate but accidentally scratching herself.

“Stupid woman!” he scolded, pulling her to bandage her hand.

“It’s just a small wound. I’m fine,” she protested.

“Do as I say. You’re so stupid. You got hurt just by serving a meal,” he replied, tending to her injury.

“Are you really that concerned about me?” Claire asked, surprised by his attention. She had really never seen Frederick like this before, so she blurted it out.

“Concerned? What a joke. Madam Prescott’s ninetieth birthday is coming up. I wouldn’t want you to miss it due to an injury,” he retorted, momentarily pausing his work.

“Oh? Is that so? It’s just my hand, not my legs. How would it affect my attendance?” she teased.