Chapter 1181: Come Sleep in My Room

Hannah agreed, but with a condition. "Just three years," she said. "When Manuel and Susan's child starts kindergarten, I'll quit."

"Okay," Miguel replied. "I'll tell Manuel now, so he can focus on parenting without worry."

Hannah clarified, "I'll help him manage Cooper Group, but not all the groups."

"Right," Miguel nodded, quickly calling Manuel, fearing Hannah's change of heart. He then told Hannah, "Manuel hopes you can start next Monday. He'll pick you up and hand over his work in person."

"Um," Hannah murmured, unwilling to break her promise. "Then I'll go to bed."

"Hannah," Miguel began.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Earlier," Miguel continued, "when your mom and I were putting Sal and Una to bed, your mom whispered that the house hasn't felt this quiet in a long time. Before, when you were away, Manuel and Susan often visited, and Oscar brought the kids over once or twice a week. But since you returned, it's been deserted…"

"You mean I shouldn't have come back?" Hannah asked.

"No," Miguel smiled. "You know what I mean."

"I don't," Hannah replied, leaving in a huff. The past four or five years of her absence had seen everyone influenced by Oscar, a thought that angered her. Her anger intensified upon entering her bedroom.

Oscar was in her room, sleeping on her bed. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"Didn't you tell me to ask who invited me where I'd sleep? I asked your mother, and she said this room," he replied confidently. "And there's only one bed."

"Oscar!" Hannah exclaimed.

"I won't hog the covers," he assured her.

Hannah turned to leave, but Oscar quickly rose, blocking her exit. "Get out of the way!" she snapped.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"None of your business!"

"Don't be mad, I'm kidding. I'll sleep on the couch," Oscar laughed, his smile charming, almost tempting.

"Is there no other room?" Hannah's tone was sharp.

"None," Oscar said. "Sal, Una, your parents, you, and two servant's rooms."

Hannah mentally counted the rooms. "Isn't there another storage room?"

"Should I sleep in the warehouse?" Oscar asked wryly.

Hannah pursed her lips, remembering the storage room lacked even a bed.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," Oscar conceded. "It's late. You should shower and rest. I've drawn you a bath; it's at a constant temperature."

Hannah looked at him. "Goodnight, Hannah," he said.

Hannah remained silent. Oscar, after a brief moment, turned and went downstairs. Hannah watched his retreating figure, noting his slightly disheveled appearance. She returned to her room, closed the door, and went to the bathroom.

She was surprised to find clean clothes, including underwear and panties, neatly arranged beside the bathwater. Hannah blushed. What did Oscar think their relationship was?

It was late, and Hannah couldn't sleep. She'd slept too long after her afternoon drink and felt neither sleepy nor comfortable after a meager dinner. She decided to get something to eat.

The house was quiet, dimly lit. Hannah tiptoed downstairs, careful not to disturb anyone. In the living room, she saw Oscar's silhouette curled on the spacious sofa, yet somehow appearing uncomfortable. She felt no guilt; it was his choice.

She went to the kitchen, switched on a small light, and began preparing toast and an egg, determined not to wake Oscar. Suddenly, a hand covered her mouth from behind.

A familiar voice whispered, "Hannah, it's me." Oscar's body pressed against hers. He reluctantly released her when she moved.

"What's wrong with you? You scared me half to death!" he exclaimed.

"I'm hungry," Hannah retorted.

"So am I," Oscar replied.

"But you ate a lot for dinner," she pointed out.

"It's not my stomach," Oscar said ambiguously. "It's my body."

Hannah blushed furiously, understanding his meaning. "Do you need help?" Oscar chuckled, changing the subject.

"No, go back to sleep!"

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"The eggs are burnt."

"I like them burnt."

"Your tone is unique."

"Are you done?"

"Goodnight," Oscar said, wisely leaving as he sensed her anger.

Relieved, Hannah discarded the unappetizing burnt eggs, ate some toast, and went upstairs with a glass of warm milk. Passing Oscar on the couch, she murmured, "Come sleep in my room."