Complain

"I apologise, Young Master. It won't happen again," Albert said, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Theodore replied curtly, "Consider yourself fortunate, Albert."

As Theodore opened the file, his eyes immediately fell upon Irene's photograph, revealing her pale, unremarkable features.

He couldn't help but think, "Even in a photo, she looks so plain and devoid of any purpose in life."

His gaze shifted to the other details: Irene's name, age (only 19), and her studies at the University of Art. The fact that she was a top-performing student brought a smirk to Theodore's lips.

Under the section for hobbies, it read, "Working, Eating." This information sparked Theodore's interest.

"Her family hate her," he noted, his attention drawn to how they arranged a marriage with someone like him—an impotent man, according to rumours. The fact that Irene agreed to such an arrangement infuriated him. He couldn't fathom someone being so foolish.

Theodore instructed Albert to drive to the Mounthill apartment, finally realising why Irene was residing in such a place. Her family didn't care about her well-being.

"Understood, Boss," Albert acknowledged, swiftly altering their course as instructed by Theodore.

A sinister smile crept across Theodore's face. "It's time to meet my dear wife. She deserves to be served. I won't let her spend our wedding night alone."

In the Mounthill area,

Irene stepped into the elevator and made her way to her apartment. Although not luxurious like the Jones family's residence, this place felt like home. It was a humble building inhabited by middle-class people, emanating a sense of tranquillity and warmth that no wealth could replicate.

Unlocking her apartment door, Irene was greeted by a sight that brought her comfort—a kitchen, balcony, living room, and a space where she could truly be herself. It was the safest place she had ever known, far surpassing the opulence of the Jones family's mansion.

Walking with tired feet, reddened from wearing heels for an extended period, Irene entered her bedroom and approached the mirror to assess her appearance.

She stared at her reflection, taking in her dishevelled state. Smudged eyes, redness in her cheeks, and a wedding gown now dirtied and tarnished, making her look even more repulsive.

"So, today I'm married. The irony of my life is overwhelming. I always dreamt of marrying someone I would love, but now it's all shattered," Irene mused, her voice laced with bitterness.

"Look at you, Irene. Getting married at the age of 19 without even knowing what your husband looks like, except that he is a cripple whom no one desires. You deserve him, you ugly bitch," she berated herself, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror.

Humiliation overwhelmed her as memories of the man who had molested her resurfaced. Her vulnerability in that moment only intensified her distress.

Ding! Dong!

The sound of the doorbell startled her, and her expression changed to one of surprise. "Who could be visiting me?" she wondered aloud.

She hurriedly left her room and opened the door, only to find herself face-to-face with an imposing figure.

"Close your mouth, Irene, unless you want something to fly or be shoved inside," the person sneered.

Irene tried to shut the door, but an unexpected resistance prevented her from doing so, causing her anxiety to soar.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cyril? How do you even know where I live? Are you stalking me?" Irene shouted, her voice tinged with anger.

"Didn't I tell you to be ready for our first night? You look like a total disaster instead of getting ready. Are you not taking my words seriously?" Theodore's expression darkened upon seeing her. He could tell she had just arrived, but why was she so late? Was she seeing someone behind his back? The thought made his jaw tense.

Irene retorted, "What the hell, Cyril? This is my home. Leave. You are not welcome here."

Attempting to forcefully close the door, Irene felt a powerful push that made her gasp for breath.

"What if I refuse to leave? If you won't welcome my presence, I'll inform Theodore. It would be delightful for him to discover how you disrespect his brother," Theodore stated, a hint of menace in his voice.

Anxiety flooded Irene's mind. She couldn't allow Theodore to find out. Nor could she risk offending the Myers or Jones families, knowing they would make her pay for any missteps or complications.

Simultaneously, she couldn't let this man enter her apartment. His eerie smile and insistence on spending the night with her terrified her more than the repercussions she might face from the Myers family.

"You know what? Call whoever you want. I don't give a damn. Just leave me alone, dammit," Irene pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.

Theodore's expression hardened as he listened. "Cursing with that little mouth of yours sounds distasteful, don't you think?"

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he raised it to his ear. "Let me call Theodore."

Irene's heart raced. She never expected him to actually follow through with it. She thought he was merely trying to scare her, but now it seemed he was genuinely planning to complicate matters and make her life more difficult.

Theodore pretended to make a call, speaking into the phone, "Hey Theodore, it's Cyril speaking. I'm at your wife's place..."

Panicking, Irene swung the door open and whispered, "I'm sorry, please don't!"

Theodore's smile widened. "I was thinking we could have dinner together. Oh, you're fine? Thanks, brother. Let's catch up tomorrow."

He abruptly ended the call, never having dialled anyone. It had been a ruse to frighten Irene, and it had worked. At this moment, she was still a teenager before him, and he knew exactly how to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Pushing Irene aside, Theodore entered her apartment, warning her about the consequences of making any significant decisions.