Chapter 153: My Needle, My Rules

“You… Yunice couldn’t really do anything to him.”

Wyatt scoffed. “Still not over Paul, huh?”

Yunice rolled over and sat up. “Who said I’m not over him!”

Wyatt rested his head on his arm, his tone light and lazy. “You’re staying pure for him while he’s out there having a great time.”

Yunice didn’t respond, so Wyatt added, “I never said this marriage was fake.”

Yunice said, “That day, I saw you picking someone up at the Silk House.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she saw Wyatt’s face darken. “So what?”

She didn’t hold back. “Is she someone important to you?”

“No.” His reply came even faster than her question—firm, even laced with a kind of cold hatred.

“Are you actually single?” Yunice pressed on.

Wyatt looked annoyed now. He sat up, grabbed the collar of her shirt, and yanked her close. “I’m a virgin. Got it!”

Their faces were barely an inch apart. Yunice stared into his eyes and stayed quiet. She understood—she’d known from the first time she saw him.

But that didn’t mean anything. Yunice said, “A woman’s purity has never been about what’s under her skirt. I’ve never minded fulfilling a need, but if the price of pleasure is hurting another woman, I’m not doing it.”

There were plenty of men in the world. She had no desire to steal someone else’s—she didn’t even have the pride for that.

“I’ll say it again—there is no other woman.” As soon as he finished, Wyatt rolled over and pinned Yunice beneath him.

The tables turned—Wyatt on top, Yunice underneath. She could feel how unstable his emotions were, but she didn’t know what was behind it.

His breathing was heavier now. He didn’t go any further; he just stayed there, holding her down.

He stared at her for a long while before finally muttering, “I’ll wait… until after the wedding.”

Wyatt climbed off her and lay down on his side.

Yunice didn’t get it. Why is he so set on sleeping with me? Couldn’t he just spend some money on a willing woman in need?

“Mmph!” Yunice let out a muffled grunt as Wyatt pulled her back into his arms.

She frowned but didn’t fight it this time. She was twenty-one; Wyatt was five years older. They were both at the peak of their physical needs.

And neither of them knew how long this marriage would last—at some point, taking care of each other’s needs might be part of the arrangement.

Maybe it was the stress, but Yunice ended up dreaming about men all night. Before dawn, she felt something sticky between her legs.

He came back a short while later with a pack of sanitary pads. Elianna’s voice was locked out on the other side of the door.

Yunice reached out and took them, glancing down to see he’d gotten the exact brand she wanted. She held her clothes behind her and hurried into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Wyatt’s voice came from outside the door. “Just leave your dirty clothes there—someone will come get them.”

Yunice looked down at her bloodstained pajama pants. She’d wanted to wash them herself. But this was Wyatt’s bathroom; he might be averse to the blood.

So she folded the pants neatly and dropped them into the trash. When she came out, she was fully dressed.

Wyatt was still in her room—no, his room.

Yunice asked, “What did Elianna say just now?”

“She said breakfast’s ready.”

When they stepped out, Elianna was indeed at the dining table, arranging plates. Without even glancing at her, Wyatt said, “You can eat by yourself. We’re going to the Powell family mansion first.”

Elianna blinked. “Huh?”

She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast.

Wyatt took Yunice’s hand and led her out of Pavilion Hall and into the car.

Yunice found his attitude toward Elianna odd. Normally, if he didn’t want to deal with someone, he’d have no problem getting rid of them entirely.

But with Elianna, there was impatience, sure—but also tolerance.

“How did Elianna end up getting adopted by the Powell family?”

Wyatt glanced over at her. She was getting bolder—asking anything she wanted now.

“Two years ago, an accident occurred at the Westvale steel plant. Two people died.”

Two years ago, Yunice had been in the psych ward; no wonder she hadn’t heard about something so minor.

“One of the dead was Elianna’s father,” Wyatt said. “He was hit by molten steel trying to stop the accident. There wasn’t even a scrap of bone left. To appease the Fiona family, Grandpa adopted Elianna.”

“That steel plant belongs to me. If it weren’t for Elianna’s father, hundreds could’ve died that day!”

Yunice froze. Suddenly, she understood why Wyatt tolerated Elianna the way he did.