C62 Wife

The light in the room was still on, casting an eerie glow in the silence that was unsettlingly quiet.

"Mr. Ferguson?"

"Aimee?"

Olivia Ye called out several times upon entering but received no reply.

"Strange, where could they have gone?"

With that question nagging at her, Olivia headed straight for the second floor. There, she found Mr. Ferguson lying just outside a door.

"Mr. Ferguson, what's wrong?"

She rushed over and gently lifted him. After a bit of shaking, Mr. Ferguson came to.

"Miss Olivia, you..."

Something seemed to dawn on Mr. Ferguson as he abruptly stood up.

"Mr. Ferguson, what exactly happened?" Olivia pressed.

"He knocked me out and then locked the door," Mr. Ferguson explained, his voice tinged with panic.

"What? Why would he knock you out? And why lock the door?" Olivia was baffled.

Mr. Ferguson quickly recounted the events, conveniently omitting the bet he had made with Westley.

"What on earth is this guy up to?"

A chill settled over Olivia's expression as she went to try Aimee's door, only to find it securely locked.

"Westley, open the door now!"

"Open up, or I'm calling the police!"

Her calls were met with silence, and Olivia's expression darkened with each passing moment.

If Westley had dared to harm her sister, she would show him no mercy.

"Miss, should I break the door down?" Mr. Ferguson offered, clearly worried.

"No, there should be a spare key somewhere in the house. I'll find it."

Olivia hurried downstairs to the storage cabinet and retrieved the spare key for Aimee's room. Back upstairs, her hands trembling with a mix of rage and fear, she fumbled with the lock several times unsuccessfully.

"Miss, allow me."

Mr. Ferguson took the key from her, inserted it with a steady hand, and turned it. The door swung open.

They both charged into the room, and as they approached the bed, the sight that met their eyes left them utterly stunned.

Westley and Aimee were entwined in a deep sleep, blissfully unaware of the world around them. Aimee clutched Westley's head, her foot nonchalantly resting on his stomach as if he were nothing more than a stuffed animal. To make matters worse, she smacked her lips contentedly in her sleep, clearly enjoying whatever dream played in her mind.

Westley's sleeping position, however, was rather peculiar. He lay rigidly, his hands crossed over his chest with thumbs interlocked, as if bracing for something. His face was ghostly pale, and his expression was one of grave seriousness, perhaps in the throes of a nightmare.

Olivia felt a rush of blood shoot straight to her temples from the soles of her feet. This scoundrel had the audacity to share a bed with her sister? He had no boundaries, no shame!

Mr. Ferguson turned his head away, lamenting the situation with a mournful, "Oh, the tragedy!"

"Get up, both of you!" Olivia's voice thundered through the room.

She charged over, yanking Aimee's arm with all her might to pry her away from Westley. "Aimee, wake up, now!"

It took a while, but Aimee eventually stirred. Rubbing her eyes and wincing from a slight headache, she finally focused on Olivia. "Sis, what's the big idea? I was sleeping so well, right in the middle of a wonderful dream."

"Dreaming? Have a look at what you've actually done!" Olivia chided her, a mix of anger and concern in her voice.

"What happened?" Aimee glanced around, bewildered.

Then she saw Westley beside her. "Ah..."

"What's the matter? Is there a fire?" Westley leapt from the bed, alarmed.

"Westley, you bastard, why are you in my bed? I'm going to kill you!" Aimee charged at him like a fierce little tiger.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Westley cried out in agony.

"You sex-crazed lunatic, I'm done with you..." Olivia joined the fray, and the room descended into utter chaos.

Mr. Ferguson stood by, his gaze vacant as he repeated to himself, "Oh, the tragedy."

...

Later, in the living room, the wall clock ticked steadily, marking the arrival of two in the morning. Westley, Mr. Ferguson, Olivia, and Aimee each took their seats at the table, their faces etched with different emotions, each lost in their own thoughts.

"So, you locked the door because you were trying to cure Aimee of her poison?" Olivia asked, her hands folded gracefully, her slender fingers reminiscent of crafted jade.

She had regained her composure, embodying the poise and elegance befitting a professional female CEO.

"Believe it or not, that's the truth," Westley affirmed with a nod.

"And why did you knock Mr. Ferguson out?" Olivia pressed.

"Mr. Ferguson was repeatedly getting in my way, and Aimee's poisoning was severe. I had to act swiftly to save her," Westley explained, his tone even.

"What are you talking about? I'm concerned for the Second Miss's safety. When someone with malicious intent is plotting against her, I cannot simply stand by," Mr. Ferguson interjected, his voice charged with emotion.

It was clear he remained skeptical of Westley's intentions to help Aimee, suspecting an ulterior motive.

Olivia cast a reassuring glance at Mr. Ferguson. "Please, try to calm down. I assure you, I will provide a full explanation to everyone."

Though Mr. Ferguson fell silent, his chest continued to rise and fall with barely contained fury.

"Aimee, are you aware that you've been poisoned?" Olivia turned her attention to her sister.

Visibly shaken, Aimee looked despondent, her eyes rimmed with red. She pointed to her chin with one finger, her lips pursed in a pout, and murmured distractedly, "I don't know!"

"You need to know," Olivia insisted, gently gripping Aimee's shoulders. "We can only dispel doubts and suspicions by getting to the bottom of this. The truth must be revealed."

Her voice was tender as she spoke to her sister, her affection evident.

Bolstered by her sister's support, Aimee mustered some strength and fixed a fierce gaze on Westley. "Westley, you jerk. I hate you."

"I've told you several times—I was trying to cure you of the poison, okay?" Westley replied, a note of exasperation in his voice.

"If you were really curing me, then why did you end up in bed with me?" Aimee demanded, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I overexerted myself while administering the antidote and lost all my strength, which caused me to pass out," Westley explained.

"You're lying! I wasn't poisoned at all! And even if you were curing me, why would you need to use force?"

Aimee spoke, and as she did, tears began to flow.

She was truly heartbroken.

Westley had reached his limit with the relentless questioning. Impatiently, he blurted out, "If you're so set on pinning something on me, fine. I'll just own up to it. I'll take the fall."

"Take the fall? How exactly do you plan to do that?" Mr. Ferguson scoffed.

"Well, I've already married Olivia. Taking on another wife isn't out of the question. We all know each other here, so I suppose I can take a hit for the team. What do you all think?" Westley leaned back, nonchalantly crossing his legs with a defiant air.