Chapter 4: You're My Wife

The room fell silent. Graham nearly choked. He thought, "Mrs. Pruitt is full of surprises. I expected continued confrontation, but…" He discreetly glanced at Ophelia, surprised.

Winford's imposing presence and icy expression intimidated everyone; only Ophelia dared to address him coquettishly as "Honey." His previous wives couldn't even speak to him without trembling.

Ophelia thought, "Winford's here. Why bother with Bertha?" Smiling sweetly, she said, "Honey?"

Winford's handsome face was tense, cold, and formidable. Sensing his silence, Ophelia grew uneasy. "This isn't my past life," she thought dejectedly.

Madeline sneered, thinking, "Mr. Pruitt overlooked the bathrobe incident because he was in a good mood. But she's nothing special. Given his temperament…"

"You can enter my room," Winford said.

Madeline was dumbfounded. Ophelia beamed. "Whenever I want?"

"You're my wife. Yes," he replied.

The servants were shocked. Even Graham was stunned. He thought, "Is this a double standard? None of Mr. Pruitt's previous wives received such privilege…"

"Thanks, Honey!" Ophelia exclaimed. The privilege was familiar from her past life, but hearing him say it again made her happy. She embraced his arm, then quickly released him, blushing at his immediate tension.

"I'll go upstairs to change," she said softly.

Glancing at her bathrobe, Winford flatly asked Bertha, "Where are Ophelia's clothes?"

Twice convinced of his preferential treatment, Bertha no longer dared to challenge Ophelia. "They're ready," she said.

Winford nodded and ordered, "Prepare the second bedroom next to mine for her." He disregarded Bertha's previous arrangement.

Bertha's expression changed. She wanted to object—that room was intended for her daughter—but swallowed her words. "Okay," she said.

Ophelia was ecstatic. "Honey, I'm going up!" she said, briskly disappearing from sight.

Winford withdrew his gaze, unconsciously touching the spot where she had hugged him. He could still feel her warmth.

"I don't want to see her led to the wrong room again," he said icily. Madeline's face paled. "Yes, Mr. Pruitt…"

Upstairs, Ophelia realized she hadn't explained to Winford. But she didn't think he was upset; perhaps he hadn't taken Bessie's words to heart. She felt relieved.

Madeline soon brought several sets of new clothes. "Mrs. Pruitt, the second bedroom will take time. You may need to wait."

Ophelia, in high spirits, said, "No worries. I'm not going anywhere."

Madeline, suppressing her anger, quickly left.

"Madeline, did Mrs. Pruitt give you a hard time?" several servants asked indignantly and disdainfully. "She's acting so arrogantly! Everyone knows what she and her family are after. They've already asked Mr. Pruitt for favors!"

A pleasant voice interrupted, "You know a lot, don't you?"

Startled, the servants turned to see Ophelia. Their expressions changed drastically. "Mrs. Pruitt…" They bowed, sweating.

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

Madeline apologized. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Pruitt. My negligence. I'll get them."

The other servants scattered. Ophelia's gaze darkened. She thought, "Favors? My money-driven father, no doubt. I need to speak to Winford—if he's giving favors, I should be the recipient. Samuel deserves nothing."

Returning to her room, she received her shoes. "Leave them and go," she instructed.

Madeline obeyed. Outside, she texted, "Elva, when are you coming back?" Elva Sherman was Bertha's daughter.

Later, a servant announced dinner. Ophelia eagerly anticipated her first meal with Winford, but the dining table was empty.

"Where's Winford?" she asked.

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

Disappointed, but understanding he might be attending to something important, she ate alone and returned to her room. She had much to process from her rebirth.

Around 9:00 p.m., a loud crash from next door followed by Winford's enraged roar, "Scram!" made her heart jump. She opened her door immediately. Winford's illness was her top priority; his impending death was driving him to the brink of a breakdown, despite his usual composure.

She ran to his bedroom. In her past life, she'd been used by Cullen for years; her only asset was her exceptional medical skills.