Chapter 244: Oscar's Pride

“Manuel, stop imagining things,” Susan snapped, suddenly understanding his meaning.

Manuel watched her. He had been suppressing his considerable ambitions all night.

“We're not having sex just because Henry was respectful to me, regardless of any problems between us.”

A faint smile played on Manuel's lips. “I see,” he said. He knew they were deeply in love.

“Fine. I need to get out of here,” Susan said irritably. Why did she feel like such a loser? Why did she have to explain her intimacy to Manuel?

Angrily, Susan turned off the shower, grabbed a blue bath towel, and wrapped it around Manuel. She suddenly remembered a similar pink one in her shower. They were clearly a pair. This so-called “lover's collection” annoyed her. She would throw them out tomorrow.

Manuel was oblivious to Susan's thoughts. He carefully moved from the bathroom to the bed.

“Take off your pants,” Susan ordered, seeing him ready to get in bed.

He looked at her.

“You want a soaked bed?” Susan asked helplessly. “What on earth are you thinking?”

Manuel nodded. Again, Susan looked away. Soon, his red underpants lay on the floor. She noticed him struggling to get into bed.

“Which pajamas do you want?” she asked.

“Whatever.”

Susan abandoned her search and went to the walk-in closet. How could this suite be so well-equipped, having been bought only a week ago? Manuel's clothes practically filled every corner. She chose a dark green silk robe and a pair of black trousers from the wardrobe, expecting to find more colorful trousers. She was astonished to see him in red ones. She’d assumed his style was limited to black, white, and gray. The sight of the red trousers struck her as unexpectedly bold. Then, the black, white, and gray collection appeared.

An epiphany struck her the next minute. Someone had told her red underwear was essential for a wedding night. But since this wasn't the wedding she wanted, she'd abandoned the idea. Yet, Manuel was wearing them.

Susan tried to ignore the implications. This marriage mattered to Manuel, while she'd prepared for divorce even as she married him. She held out the clothes. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

“No, thanks. I can manage,” Manuel quickly refused.

Susan laid the clothes beside him. He didn't rush to put them on.

“Want some water?”

“No, thanks.”

“Then the toilet?”

“Well… yes…” he replied.

Susan was at her wit's end. Why hadn't he needed to use the toilet in the shower, but only after she’d gotten him into bed?

Manuel was in a quandary. He couldn’t urinate in front of her. But he couldn’t endure a sleepless night without going. That meant he'd have to manage it himself, risking another fall. He still hadn't adjusted to life without the use of his legs.

“Please,” he whispered, like a boy who had misbehaved.

Susan fought back her emotions. She helped him out of bed, took him to the bathroom, and positioned him before the toilet.

“Could you lift my robe a little?” Manuel pleaded. He couldn't spare a hand to protect it.

Susan complied, reluctantly. The sound of running water filled the room.

What the hell… She never imagined she’d one day serve a man like a maid. She stood behind him, head bowed. This was a long, seemingly endless war. “How much urine have you been holding?”

Manuel was too ashamed to answer.

“That could kill you! How dare you!”

Silence seemed the best response to such an embarrassing moment.

“Finished,” Manuel said with relief, like a thief completing a job.

Susan lowered his robe and helped him back to bed.

“Anything else I can help with?” Susan asked.

“Nothing else…”

She couldn’t wait to leave before he finished the sentence. He would have said goodnight. He knew Susan wouldn't stay a minute longer if she could.

Returning to her room, she rushed to her bathroom and sank into the jacuzzi. She felt as agitated as a caged tiger. She'd tried to suppress her feelings while helping him. Afterwards, she was despondent. She couldn't understand how things had come to this. She had kept her promise and married him. She was now sharing an apartment with him. This should have been Henry’s and her life. This should have been their wedding night.

She'd envisioned countless scenarios for their romantic wedding night. In the end, she was alone, in this grand but cold room. She couldn't contain her despair any longer and screamed. She never dreamed this ridiculous and unbelievable scenario could happen to her. The world felt too crazy. She hated everything that had led to this absurd situation.

Night fell on the city. This was Oscar's villa. Hannah and Oscar finally arrived home. As soon as they entered, Oscar instructed Max, who was waiting at the door, "Call Donald and have him come here immediately."

"Yes, my lord…"

"Don't worry," Oscar said calmly.

He sounded unconcerned, but Max didn't believe him, and neither did Hannah. After spending so much time with him, she was surprised by his composure. How could he keep so much buried inside? He was as deep as the ocean; it was impossible to fathom his true nature.

Donald arrived half an hour later, accompanied by Theodore. Hannah automatically retreated to the living room, watching television and enjoying the Chinese dessert Max painstakingly prepared for her each day.

In the bedroom, Donald removed Oscar's shirt and unraveled the bandage. After a brief examination, he declared, "It's infected."

"That's why I called you," Oscar said.

"Is it because… of wonderful sex?"

Oscar simply smiled, saying nothing. Theodore rolled his eyes. Was it worth showing off about sleeping with one woman? If so, Theodore should be the one boasting; the number of women he'd slept with might be… hundreds.