Chapter 203

Bruce carefully cleaned and bandaged her wound. "Don't touch the water," he instructed. "Remember to change your dressing daily."

Joanna didn't reply. Her thoughts drifted back four years. Everything remained the same; even the half-used skincare products on the dressing table were untouched. It all felt like yesterday.

Seeing her silence, Bruce said in a muffled voice, "I'm talking to you. Do you hear me?"

Joanna inhaled sharply. "Yes."

"Good. Rest early." He reached out and touched the top of her head, a gesture that resembled petting a beloved animal. His affection was tinged with a domineering possessiveness.

Disgusted, Joanna slapped his hand away. "You only asked me here to bandage my wound?"

Bruce's lips curled into a sneer. "What else could I do?"

"Plenty. If you want to do something else, I can accompany you!" Bruce stepped forward, reaching to hook her chin.

"You're crazy!" Joanna tilted her head and stood. "What are you doing?"

"Now that the wound's bandaged, I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving today."

"Bruce, what do you want?"

Impatient, he snapped, "Stop asking! I want to be alone with you, for a while!"

Joanna stared coldly at him, utterly bewildered. "This place has always been empty. It's not suitable for Lilia and you to live in such a small house. Bring Lilia back here; it's safer."

Though Reagan No. 8 Residence wasn't as luxurious as the Everett mansion or Sherane Bay Villa, it was still among Greyport's top ten. It held many memories of their wedding—memories Bruce had previously avoided, deeming them painful and forbidden. Now, however, he found them beautiful, because at that time, she had belonged completely to him.

Joanna looked at him incredulously. "Did I hear that right?"

"I want you and Lilia to live in a more comfortable environment. I won't let my daughter live in that house."

Joanna sneered, ignoring him. The memories were too painful. Why was he asking her to move back?

"What's so funny?"

"I'm not laughing, Mr. Everett. I appreciate your kindness," Joanna said, her eyes firm, "but I have my own life, and I won't let anyone dictate it." Escaping the swamp hadn't been easy; she wouldn't jump back in so readily. Regardless of his feigned affection, he remained a hunter seeking his prey.

A shadow crossed Bruce's eyes. "I can't understand you. Why do you insist on making things difficult?"

"Don't try to guess. I just want us to be amicable. I'm fighting for custody next week, and I won't give up." She continued, "So stop with the games."

His anger flared. All he'd done was perceived as manipulative games.

"Fine. I won't waste my breath. Believe what you want. I'm going home. I haven't been home in two days, and I need to go tonight."

Bruce sneered. "You're obsessed with your work. Do you think you can be a good mother?"

Joanna's anger ignited. "You have no right to judge my capabilities as a mother!"

"As her father, I do. If you can't provide enough companionship and love, the children won't stay with you."

"You're ridiculous! I've worked hard to raise them since birth! What right do you have to take them? They're not just yours! I'll provide them with the best education and environment—something you can't match."

"Is it because you're richer?"

"Yes. Money can buy things others can't." Bruce met her gaze. He hadn't wanted to fight for custody before, but now it seemed the only way to keep her.

Joanna suppressed her anger. "Let's meet in court." She grabbed her bag and left.

(Note: The promotional sentence was removed as it was irrelevant to the text cleanup.)