Chapter 8 Sleeping Together

• On the edges of Jacaster stood a grand and luxurious mansion, its interiors as lavish as they were expansive. Inside, an elderly man adorned in a traditional suit sat leisurely, savoring the aroma of his coffee. The walls around him bore the inscription “Virtue,” elegantly crafted in a rare and sophisticated calligraphy style, adding an air of ancient dignity to the room.
• However, the serene atmosphere was abruptly disrupted by his butler, who approached with a tense expression. “Sir, we have a grave situation. The entire family of Newt has been eradicated.”
• “Who could have done this? What happened?” The elder's brow furrowed deeply as he awaited an answer.
• “I'm not entirely sure yet...” the butler began, his voice faltering.
• Before he could finish, the old man raised his hand sharply and delivered a swift slap across the butler's face. His voice turned icy as he chastised, “You are utterly useless. Newt has been slaughtered, and you come to me with nothing?”
• “I-I'll conduct an investigation immediately!” The butler, stung by both the slap and the reprimand, hurriedly assured the elderly man.
• No one knew Harold of the Dunham family's ruthlessness better than this butler.
• Crossing Harold was akin to sealing one's fate; without the protective umbrella of the Dunham family, Newt would have been no more significant than a stray dog wandering the streets.
• “Are there really no other leads?” Harold inquired, taking another sip of his tea, his demeanor cooling slightly.
• Just then, a thought seemed to strike the butler. He quickly added, “While we have yet to find any direct leads and the surveillance has been tampered with, we discovered a word written in blood on the wall at Newt's residence. It reads 'Callier'...”
• At the mention of “Callier,” Harold's pupils constricted sharply, a chill running down his spine as memories of a bloody past incident resurfaced—the time when Newt had orchestrated the obliteration of Franklin's family, all under the Dunham family's secret directive.
• Could it be a surviving member of the Callier family?
• With a somber look in his eyes, Harold demanded, “Find out for me immediately, is there a surviving Callier!”
• Meanwhile, below Winona's apartment, Franklin had just finished bathing and changing, effectively washing away any traces of blood and the intense aura of murder that had clung to him earlier. Now, he appeared completely ordinary, devoid of any sinister air.
• “Mr. Callier, all the other medicinal herbs have been prepared for you,” Desmond announced, presenting a medicine kit to Franklin with both hands.
• Franklin nodded in acknowledgment. “It might be time to consider treating Winona's burns,” he mused as he took the medicine box and began ascending the stairs, while Desmond discreetly slipped away.
• Upon entering his home, Franklin found Winona visibly tired, seated on a dilapidated couch. Nearby, Susan was deeply engrossed in scrutinizing a marriage certificate as if validating its authenticity.
• The moment Susan saw Franklin, she didn't hesitate to unleash a tirade.
• “What are you staring at? After gallivanting all day, can't you see the mess here? You good-for-nothing, are you going to grab a broom and clean up, or do you want me to kick you out? And we haven't eaten yet—we're starving. Can you start cooking for us? And don't forget, the trash needs taking out, the toilet needs cleaning, and you'll have to do the laundry too!”
• In one breath, Susan had delegated all the household chores to Franklin while she reclined on the couch like royalty.
• “Mom, it hasn't been easy for Franklin either...” Winona interjected softly, casting a sympathetic glance at Franklin.
• “He's not having a hard time at all. Since he became our son-in-law, I call the shots in this house. Whatever I ask, he should do. If I tell him to act like a dog, he should even learn to bark,” Susan retorted sharply.
• If anyone from Empyrean had witnessed this scene, they would have undoubtedly incinerated Susan for her insolence.
• The revered Lord Empyrean, controlled by a shrew? Anyone daring to insult him would undoubtedly face such severe punishment.
• “All right, I'll go cook now,” Franklin agreed without protest, heading straight for the kitchen.
• Although Susan was right—Franklin did owe a debt to Winona's family—it was time for him to start repaying that debt.
• For Winona, he was prepared to endure it all.
• Additionally, his trip to the kitchen wasn't solely to prepare dinner. Franklin also planned to concoct a salve to treat Winona's burns, proving his dedication to her.
• As Franklin busied himself in the kitchen, Susan couldn't hide her satisfaction. It didn't matter to her that Franklin could handle a few thugs; at the end of the day, he was still under her roof, adhering to her rules.
• However, a thought seemed to strike Susan, prompting her to lower her voice and lean in towards Winona. “Winona, don't be fooled by this man. He only married you to settle a debt,” she cautioned, her voice laced with scorn. “Remember, any kindness he shows is merely an act. Treat him like the servant he is, not someone worthy of your affections.”
• Susan was all too aware of her daughter's tender heart. Given the emotional challenges Winona had faced in recent years, Susan knew well that Winona might easily grow attached to anyone who showed her genuine kindness.
• “Mom... what are you talking about...” Winona's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. It was a novel experience for her, having a man living under their roof, disrupting the familiar dynamics of their home life.
• “Forget about it, you're not the type to fall for someone so easily,” Susan dismissed, reassured by her own words. She then turned her attention to the television, seeking distraction from her concerns.
• The screen flashed to a breaking news alert. “Hugh Ziegler of Jacaster, also known as Mr. Newt, and his entire family of thirteen were tragically murdered this evening. The case is currently under investigation...”
• Upon witnessing the breaking news on the television, Susan's expression transformed into one of utter astonishment, her jaw dropping as if it might actually hit the floor.
• Mr. Newt's men were just here causing a ruckus at our doorstep today, and now they're all wiped out just like that? How did such a thing happen so suddenly?
• “Could it possibly have been that scoundrel Franklin?” The thought made Susan shiver momentarily, but she quickly dismissed it, shaking her head to clear the absurd idea.
• While Franklin indeed had skills in martial arts, she couldn't imagine him possessing the capability to execute such a drastic and sweeping action.
• “Good riddance,” she muttered quietly, a sense of relief washing over her. “With Mr. Newt no longer a threat, there's no one left to harass our family. His death really is a blessing in disguise!”
• Soon after, Franklin completed his cooking duties. The dining atmosphere was strained and somber as the family gathered to eat the meal he prepared, quickly consuming their food in near silence.
• After clearing up post-dinner and hanging up his apron, Susan assertively guided Winona toward the bedroom. Standing by the doorway, she turned to Franklin with a frosty demeanor. “You're going in there too,” she instructed sharply. “Tonight, you both will sleep together.”
• “Mom, how could we—” Winona began, her voice filled with dismay, but she was quickly silenced by a stern glance from Susan.
• “All right then,” Franklin replied with a nod, maintaining his composure as he casually entered Winona's room, gently closing the door behind him.
• Leaning against the door from the outside, Susan listened for any sound from the room, but hearing none, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Wasn't it you, Franklin, who insisted on repaying my daughter? Well, I've now given you the opportunity to be by her side, to gaze upon her face each night, to be haunted by nightmares, and to fully comprehend the suffering she endured!”
• Inside the room, Winona lay perfectly still on her bed, paralyzed by the new and unnerving proximity to a man.
• Her heart pounded at the mere scent of him, the aroma distinctly masculine and unfamiliar.
• This was indeed the first time Winona had ever shared her personal space with a man, and that man was Franklin, who was now lying beside her.
• “From this moment on, we are husband and wife,” Franklin declared softly, his voice filled with a warmth meant to reassure.
• A soft murmur was all Winona could manage, her voice barely a whisper, as she acknowledged the gravity of their new, shared reality.
• “Then... Honey, you should... take off your clothes,” Franklin said.