Chapter 242: It Was the Conscience That Stirred

As the party concluded, guests began streaming from the hall. Oscar and Hannah were among the last to leave, lingering with the newlyweds. Seeing few people remaining, Hannah departed with Oscar.

Susan reluctantly followed Manuel to the car, their destination: their so-called home. Inside, silence reigned. Susan incessantly scrolled through her phone, seemingly checking every social media app repeatedly. A slight irritation played on her face. Manuel gazed out the window, aware she awaited a call or message from Henry, which never came.

The car finally stopped at a luxury residence in Kensbury, an exclusive community for the wealthy. After Susan's approval of the marriage, Manuel had purchased a large, deluxe flat there. The driver helped Manuel from the car and into his wheelchair, preparing to push him home.

"No, you can leave me here," Manuel said. "It's late; you should rest."

"But Mrs. Knight instructed me to take you home," the driver replied.

Manuel understood Justine's worry that Susan might not assist him. However, he could manage himself. "I'll explain to my mother. You can go now," he insisted. The driver, acquiescing, respectfully drove away.

Susan remained beside Manuel. After a long pause, she pushed his wheelchair forward. Manuel smiled.

"Don't go further," Susan said, pulling the wheelchair towards the elevator. "I wouldn't let you suffer alone. And I wouldn't abandon you, even in your final moments, if things turned out differently. I'm helping you because of my conscience."

"Yes, I know," Manuel replied, understanding the kindness behind her harsh words.

"Which floor?" Susan asked as they entered the lift.

"Nineteenth," Manuel answered.

Susan pressed the button, muttering, "Well, no one survives an earthquake."

"This building is safe in an 8.0 magnitude earthquake," Manuel countered.

Susan, often outmatched in debate by him, remained silent. They arrived at the 19th floor.

"The password is 123456," Manuel said. "Change it if you find it too simple."

"Mr. Johnson, are you mocking my intelligence? Such a simple password?" Susan bristled.

Manuel smiled, unaffected by her anger. He could easily withstand her barbs. Susan entered the password, and they stepped inside the flat.

"Slippers are in the cabinet," Manuel instructed.

Susan found two pairs—blue and pink—clearly intended for a couple. She found them distasteful and refused to wear them. Manuel nodded in agreement.

The flat, over 300 square meters, boasted a magnificent view of the Kensbury River from its broad living room. Susan estimated its value at least 10 million, paid for by her father. She wondered about the extent of Manuel's father's financial losses.

Susan declared, "I'm going to my room, and you go to yours."

"Okay," Manuel replied calmly. He knew, even before the party, that Susan wouldn't share a bed with him. He indicated a bedroom.

Susan, without protest, entered the room, slamming the door shut. The action suggested even a moment's proximity to him was torturous. Who would willingly spend time with someone they disliked?

Manuel slowly moved towards another bedroom. He had dismissed all the maids for the night, rejecting his mother's repeated pleas to have staff present. But tonight, it was truly only for him, not them. What could he expect from a bride who loved another?

He maneuvered himself into his bedroom, the process far from effortless. He needed to shower himself – a new experience. He began undressing, the formal suit uncomfortable. He reached his last garment: red underpants. He'd heard they brought luck to newlyweds, and his mother had provided them when Susan had agreed to marry him. This was his third time wearing them.

He retrieved his crutches, carefully rising from the wheelchair and moving towards the bathroom. He concentrated on avoiding a fall, mindful of Susan's proximity. He overestimated his abilities. A man recently disabled, lacking assistance, was profoundly helpless. Manuel was living proof.

After turning on the shower, he struggled to clean himself, his arms occupied by crutches. He attempted to manage with one crutch, but the slippery floor caused him to fall, the crutches flying away. He remained silent, slowly retrieving the crutches. As he reached for them, he saw a pair of woman's legs. It was the most humiliating moment of his life: Susan standing there, watching. She quickly retreated to her room, slamming the door. The loud bang had alarmed her; she feared he might be seriously injured.

She found him lying on the floor, resembling a helpless creature. Reluctantly, she picked up his crutches. He made no attempt to reach for them, shamefaced. She stood him up, her actions revealing her reluctance. She had come only because of her conscience, the source of his predicament in her eyes.