C60 The Person Who Ruined the Good Thing

Westley's hand paused midair before he turned to identify the disturbance.

Mr. Ferguson stood at the doorway, a basin of water in his grasp, fixing Westley with a furious stare. Should Westley step out of line, Mr. Ferguson looked ready to charge and deliver a thrashing.

"Easy there, Mr. Ferguson. I'm not some kind of lecher," Westley said with a wry smile.

"I beg to differ—you strike me as exactly that kind of man!"

Mr. Ferguson strode to the bedside and set the basin down with a thud, his demeanor that of a tiger guarding its cub, poised for battle at any moment. Why did the old man's words rankle him so?

"Let me be frank, Mr. Ferguson. The Second Miss has been drugged. If I don't help her neutralize the effects, it could lead to serious trouble," Westley insisted earnestly.

Mr. Ferguson gave Westley a skeptical glance, clearly unconvinced.

"Who drugged the Second Miss?" Mr. Ferguson inquired, his tone measured.

"Rollen from the Freeman family and that Cruz family's oaf," Westley replied.

"Oh?"

Mr. Ferguson let out a derisive chuckle. "Son-in-law, pardon my candor. If you were accusing Vaden from the Cruz family, I might believe you. But the Freeman family is known for their strict principles, and their patriarch, Sayeed, is the epitome of a gentleman. Claiming Rollen would stoop to such lows—I simply can't buy it."

"You trust Rollen that much?" Westley was taken aback.

"Compared to others, I'd rather place my faith in the Freeman family's young master," Mr. Ferguson said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Westley was seething with frustration.

So, you don't trust me, and you even compare me to that scoundrel?

Am I really so unworthy?

"Appearances can be deceiving, Mr. Ferguson! Don't let Rollen's facade mislead you. My guess is he's..."

Westley's words were cut short as Mr. Ferguson interjected.

"Son-in-law, I've lived long enough to have a keen eye for character. Frankly, I've consumed more salt in my lifetime than you've had rice."

Westley's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Seems to me you've been ingesting nothing but industrial salt."

"What did you say?" Mr. Ferguson's eyes bulged in surprise.

"Nothing, I was just saying that this is the situation at hand. I need to treat the Second Miss immediately. If we delay, the drug could damage her brain, and that would be disastrous," Westley urgently explained.

"No! I am responsible for the Second Miss's safety!"

Mr. Ferguson positioned himself firmly in front of the bed, making it clear that he wouldn't allow Westley to advance even a step further.

"Why do you constantly oppose me? Do you have something against me?" Westley asked, clearly annoyed.

"Indeed! I may be old, but my mind is sharp. There was no love between you and the Eldest Lady initially, but the old master forced you together. Who knows what you're really plotting?" Mr. Ferguson spoke his mind openly.

"Since when do you, an outsider, get to gossip about my affairs with Olivia?" Westley's face grew colder by the second.

"I've been with the Rogers family for decades. We're like family. I've watched the Eldest and Second Miss grow up," Mr. Ferguson said, not without a hint of pride.

"And what of it? My father-in-law chose this marriage. Why didn't you object then?" Westley retorted with a mix of sarcasm and scorn.

Mr. Ferguson's expression stiffened, then he replied, "Had I not been away with the lady of the house visiting relatives in Tatolyn, I would never have allowed the old master to arrange this marriage."

"So, you're siding with my mother-in-law?" Westley's eyes narrowed.

"I've watched her grow up and have always treated her as if she were my own daughter," Mr. Ferguson stated, hands clasped behind his back.

"I see now!"

It all clicked for Westley!

No wonder Mr. Ferguson had always been so passive-aggressive towards him. It turned out that he was indeed aligned with Westley's mother-in-law.

If Mr. Ferguson was in cahoots with his mother-in-law, that perfectly explained his prior behavior.

Seeing Westley's realization, Mr. Ferguson felt a secret surge of satisfaction.

Now that he had laid his cards on the table, he expected Westley to back down.

"Mr. Ferguson, how about we make a wager?" Westley proposed out of the blue.

"A wager? On what?" Mr. Ferguson was taken aback.

"Within three months, I'll have the Eldest Lady so in love with me that she won't be able to bear being apart from me," Westley declared with a confident grin.

Mr. Ferguson sneered coldly, "Absolutely impossible!"

"What if it happens?" Westley asked with a mischievous grin.

"Let me repeat myself: impossible! The Second Miss would never fall for a loser like you," Mr. Ferguson asserted with supreme confidence.

"Don't jump to conclusions so quickly. Are you willing to make a wager or not?" Westley pressed on, laying his trap.

"You're bound to lose this bet. Why would I hesitate?" Mr. Ferguson retorted.

Perfect!

He'd taken the bait!

Mr. Ferguson, cautious as ever, inquired, "What's the wager? If your terms are unreasonable, I reserve the right to decline."

"The stakes are high. It's up to you if you can handle it," Westley replied.

"Then spell it out for me."

"If I lose, I'll leave the Rogers family in three months and sever all ties with them."

Westley eyed Mr. Ferguson and declared, "If you lose, you'll streak naked through the entire Aristocratic Villa."

"What?" Mr. Ferguson blurted out.

This was absurd!

Mr. Ferguson's face blanched at the thought, the mere idea a profound disgrace.

"What's the matter? Are you scared?"

Westley chuckled darkly, "It seems your loyalty to the Rogers family isn't as strong as you claim. Or could it be that you're afraid of losing?"

A spark ignited in Mr. Ferguson's eyes.

Indeed, why worry? This was a sure win for him. The Second Miss would never fall for Westley.

He was destined to win this bet.

"Fine, I'll take the bet! But put it in writing," Mr. Ferguson insisted, playing it safe.

"Agreed," Westley nodded.

Mr. Ferguson, ever prepared, produced pen and paper and quickly drafted the wager.

Both parties agreed, signing and sealing the bet.

They each kept a copy for safekeeping.

Mr. Ferguson pocketed his copy with a smug satisfaction, boasting, "I hope you don't lose too miserably. Should it come to that, I've got some money set aside to ensure you don't starve."

His tone implied that Westley's defeat was a foregone conclusion.

"Then I'll thank you in advance," Westley responded with feigned humility.

"As you should! After all, you were once the Rogers family's son-in-law in name," Mr. Ferguson said with a smile.

Westley cleared his throat and asked, "Can I detoxify her now?"

"No."

Mr. Ferguson's stance was as unyielding as ever. He stated firmly, "The Second Miss's purity must not be compromised by anyone. Should you dare to act rashly..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence before his body suddenly went limp and he collapsed.

"He's become even more obstinate with age."

Westley quietly retracted a silver needle and shook his head.

He dragged Mr. Ferguson outside, then securely locked the door behind him.

With Mr. Ferguson out of the way, Westley was free to proceed with the task at hand.