Chapter 162: No Room to Breathe

The maid studied his expression carefully and asked, “Then… Mr. Paul, if you’re not going to look, I’ll go ahead and take care of Moss’s body.”

A corpse wasn’t allowed to remain in the courtyard overnight; it had to be cremated or buried right away.

Paul nodded twice, fast and frantic, like he couldn’t wait to get it over with.

The maid, still unsure, added, “Mr. Paul, should I call a doctor for you? The injury on your back…”

Before she could finish, Paul snapped, furious. “Why do you talk so damn much? Just go take care of the body!”

Hurry up and burn it; once it was gone, it’d be like he never had the bird. That way, he wouldn’t have to sit with this sickening guilt anymore.

His eyes flicked toward the bottle of disinfectant in the corner of the pet room—then darted away just as quickly. He didn’t want to face the truth that it had been him who poisoned Moss.

Paul leaned against the wall and left the pet room without a word, his face blank.

He sat in his room for what felt like forever, from morning until nightfall.

Finally, footsteps echoed from outside. He turned toward the door, eyes lighting up with a flash of hope…

“Paul!” Elsie burst in, wearing a maid’s uniform, ready to surprise him.

The light in Paul’s eyes faded. He frowned and walked toward her. “Didn’t I tell you to rest and recover? Why are you here again?”

Elsie slipped into his arms and murmured, “I missed you.”

“Hiss—” She touched the injury on his back, and Paul winced sharply.

Seeing the state of his back, Elsie’s expression shifted. “Paul, what happened to you…”

Paul was already in a foul mood—everything irritated him. And on top of that, this whole beating had been because of her. Now she had the nerve to act surprised?

He moved her hand away, sat down, and grumbled, “I haven’t even asked you—why didn’t you listen to me today and show up at the Powell mansion?”

Today had been a Powell family banquet. All the major relatives were there, and the whole point was to publicly announce his engagement to Taylor.

Even if he didn’t like Taylor, he couldn’t disregard the honor of his family. That’s why he’d told Elsie he was busy and asked her not to come.

Paul’s brow furrowed deeper. His frustration hit a boiling point. “I never said I was blaming you—why are you making stuff up now?”

He was already trying to avoid her as it was. Why would I text her to come?

Elsie looked even more innocent. She hurried to pull out her phone and show him. “Look—your messages are right here….”

Paul didn’t even glance at the screen. “Elsie, could you stop trying so hard? You’re starting to turn into Yunice—smothering me, leaving me with no space to breathe!”

Elsie stood there, stunned. Starting to turn into Yunice!

Back when Paul was still into her, he used to complain about Yunice all the time—how she was too controlling, how annoying it was. He’d said the more Yunice tried to rein him in, the more he wanted to rebel—just to see who could out-stubborn who.

He used to say men should be free, that women should just stay home and stop nagging so much. All that yapping only made things worse.

Back then, Elsie had gone along with everything he said. She’d told him women were short-sighted anyway, that a smart woman would let her man go out and make something of himself. If she were Yunice, she’d give Paul all the space he needed; whatever he did, she’d support him.

And now he’s calling me the same? But Elsie recovered quickly. She wasn’t about to end up like Yunice—pushed aside and abandoned.

Her eyes turned red. She stayed put, her voice small and choked. “Paul, I’m sorry… it was all my fault. I won’t bother you again like this…”

Paul’s brow twitched slightly. He already felt guilty, and now Elsie was acting all submissive and understanding. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity.

“Alright. I’ve had a rough day; maybe I was too harsh. But you better learn from this.” He reached out his hand, and Elsie obediently placed hers in his palm.

Paul said, “I’m not going to abandon you, so stop overthinking everything. It’s not good for either of us, okay?”

Elsie lowered her eyes and nodded. Her tears slid down silently.

Paul wiped her face for her, then winced. “My back’s killing me. Can you help me with the ointment?”

Of course, Elsie was more than willing.

Paul took off his shirt and lay face-down on the bed. The sight of his injuries made her heart ache—but she knew Paul cared about saving face.

She’d learned her lesson, and this time she didn’t dare ask what had happened.

He seemed lost in thought. After a while, he muttered, “Elsie, Moss died…”

Elsie froze. Paul turned his head to look at her. “You didn’t notice the pet room was empty when you got here?”