Chapter 606: Honest Feelings

"It doesn't matter, even if you're not pregnant," Oscar murmured, seemingly compelled to confide. "They have nothing on me now. Besides, they're just using me; who knows what they'll do afterward?"

Hannah sensed Oscar possessed a deeper understanding of the aristocratic families than she'd initially believed. His actions appeared meticulously planned, the marriage likely a calculated component.

"Was marrying me part of your plan to infiltrate these families?" she asked, a question forming in her mind.

Initially, she harbored no resentment, understanding his extreme measures in pursuit of his mission. Yet, a lingering unease remained, despite her own pragmatic approach to their union. She awaited his answer, noting his elegant smile.

"Meeting you was an accident," he stated.

A flutter stirred Hannah's heart. She wasn't part of his grand design; she had found him. The revelation left her uncertain.

"Then why did you agree to marry me? For the same reasons of cooperation?"

"Of course not," Oscar replied, his smile brightening. "Don't you realize how poor your reputation was before our marriage?"

His sarcasm was palpable, yet undeniably accurate. To appease Charles Sawyer, Hannah had suppressed her merits, leaving others to perceive her as incompetent. Charles had effectively stifled her intelligence, making her appear unremarkable to Oscar.

"Then why did you marry me?" Hannah asked, a touch of annoyance coloring her voice. Given his powerful background and her perceived inadequacy, his acquiescence baffled her. She felt he stood to lose much in this marriage.

"What do you think?"

Unexplained agitation seized her at his words, her heart quickening. His effortless charm was undeniably potent, she mused.

"I don't know," she gritted out.

"Because of love," Oscar declared abruptly.

"But how could you fall in love with me? We haven't seen each other since nursery school." His unacknowledged infatuation felt slightly unsettling, yet a warmth began to bloom amidst the goosebumps.

"When you were a child, you said you would marry me."

Hannah recalled the incident, dismissing it as trivial childhood whimsy.

"I took it seriously," Oscar said, his dark eyes intense as he seemed to revisit those memories. "From a young age, I was subjected to brutal training, consumed by the prospect of violence, until I saw you. You were so soft, so adorable. Your small hand in mine—that was the first time I felt warmth in my heart, a gentle spring breeze. It was indescribable, yet profoundly joyful. Even during training, I clung to that feeling."

Hannah was speechless, her forgotten childhood inadvertently becoming his salvation.

"People like me aren't permitted to love; I didn't feel entitled to pursue anyone. I tried to ignore you after learning of your engagement to Charles. I wanted to view you as a stranger, but..." He paused, staring intently at her. "... you kept appearing before me."

Hannah, however, had little recollection of such encounters. She wouldn't have noticed him, had he not become Charles's rival.

"Despite my training here, I occasionally appeared in Kensbury City, attending classes to avoid suspicion. Three years older, three grades ahead—we shouldn't have interacted. But you always seemed to appear. At the end of class, or when I looked down from the balcony, you and Susan, arm in arm, were always there, a constant presence throughout elementary and high school..."

From Hannah's perspective, their encounters were few and far between. In elementary school, she'd heard of the two infamous students: Oscar, the bully; and Charles, the prodigy. Oscar was frequently summoned to school by his teachers; yet his family's influence shielded him from expulsion. Charles, in contrast, was a teacher's pet, presiding over school activities; every girl's Prince Charming, whereas Oscar was a pariah, shunned for fear of his violence.

As they matured, Oscar's striking looks transformed him from a bully into a heartthrob. Charles remained the model student. Opinions on Oscar were extreme: some girls adored him; others loathed him. Hannah, a good girl, fell into the latter category.

"I doubt you remember this," Oscar stated.

Hannah frowned.

"In second grade..." Oscar hesitated, then continued seeing her confusion, "... you went to the restroom and forgot your tampon."

A wave of mortification washed over Hannah. Still new to menstruation, she hadn't yet mastered its regularity. One day, after an extracurricular activity, she'd discovered her period, hiding in the restroom. Most students had left, but a few remained. Alone, with a dead phone, she heard someone outside. In a rush, she called out, "Hello, could you help me buy tampons? I'm on my period and forgot mine."