Chapter 18: A Man's Body

When Alicia stepped out of the house, she found Beatrice berating the servants as they struggled with a pair of heavy boxes.

“You’re lazy and useless,” Beatrice snapped. “Feeding you is a waste. Four of you can’t even carry two little boxes.”

The servants strained, backs bent, but the boxes wouldn’t budge. Beatrice watched them with growing fury, her expression tight and cold.

“Useless,” she hissed.

Then she lifted her head and saw Alicia strolling over, calm as ever, though her eyes were icy. Meeting that gaze, Beatrice shuddered before she could stop herself, her body tensing.

Alicia stopped before them and said, each word precise and cool, “I don’t like people touching my things.”

Her voice was flat, emotionless, and the servants immediately abandoned the attempt without needing further orders.

Beatrice eyed the tightly wrapped boxes, curiosity pricking. “What’s inside?” she asked.

Alicia didn’t answer. She simply bent, slipped her hands under one crate, and lifted it with effortless ease. Beatrice’s eyes widened. The very boxes four servants couldn’t move—Alicia carried one as if it were empty. The servants’ jaws dropped; they watched her in stunned silence until she disappeared from view.

Beatrice turned her scorn on them again. “Useless. All of you. You don’t deserve to eat.”

She stormed off. Moments later, Alicia returned, picked up the remaining box without so much as a glance at the servants, and carried it away.

Beatrice stepped back into the house still reeling from the sight of Alicia hauling those boxes. The servants hadn’t lied—there was no way they could have carried them themselves.

“Mom, why are you so quiet?” Winnie asked, curiosity piqued. She’d been standing in her mother’s room for a full minute, and Beatrice hadn’t even noticed her come in.

Beatrice blinked, gathering herself. “Don’t ever try to get into a physical fight with Catherine,” she warned.

Winnie stared, taken aback. “What’s going on, Mom?”

The image of Alicia hefting the crate flashed again in Beatrice’s mind, and she let out a slow sigh. “Listen to me, Winnie. Catherine may look delicate, but she’s stronger than most men. I suspect she’s used to hard labor—lifting rocks, heavy loads. Someone like that is naturally powerful. I think her physique is… masculine. No wonder she’s always covering up. She probably has muscles like a man.”

Winnie’s lips twitched. If Alicia had truly been breaking rocks and hauling weight, would her skin be that flawless?

An idea sparked. If Alicia exposed her arms and they were all muscle, wouldn’t that shatter the illusion—just a pretty face?

“Mom, why don’t you arrange Catherine’s outfit for Dad’s birthday party?” Winnie suggested, eyes gleaming.

Beatrice had already considered it. A slow smile curved her lips. She could practically hear the whispers already: a woman’s face, a man’s body. “My daughter is very smart,” she said, pleased.

Unaware of their scheming, Alicia left the basement after finishing her mini-lab setup and strolled toward the car parked outside. Andy was waiting.

He glanced at his watch, smiling to himself. He hadn’t told her he’d come, yet she’d known anyway. The more he thought about it, the more certain he felt that his wife was anything but ordinary.

From an upstairs window, Beatrice and Winnie watched Alicia slide into Andy’s car, their expressions darkening.

“That cripple keeps rushing over to pick up that whore,” Winnie sneered, jealousy sharp in her voice. “Where are they going this time?”

“What an eyesore,” Beatrice muttered, her disdain matching her daughter’s.

Andy’s car rolled out of the mansion and sped toward the outskirts of the city. Alicia sat quietly beside him, saying nothing. He glanced at his soon-to-be wife and asked, “Aren’t you curious where we’re going?”

She turned to him with a radiant smile that took him by surprise. “Anywhere my dear husband wants me to go, I’ll go,” she said lightly. “It doesn’t matter.”

Pleased by her answer, his eyes narrowed with satisfaction.

They pulled up in a windy mountain area where the air kicked up dust from the ground. As the car stopped and they stepped out, a young man in his late twenties spotted them and hurried over.

“Brother Andy!” he called, waving as he ran.

“That’s my little cousin, Kennedy,” Andy said to Alicia.

Her expression didn’t change. Andy didn’t seem to mind. When Kennedy reached them and saw Alicia at Andy’s side, his posture stiffened. He eyed her warily. “What are you doing with my brother?”

He’d seen too many women chase Andy for his money—then turn around and mock him as a cripple once they got what they wanted.

Alicia met his suspicion with a cool, unreadable stare and said nothing.

“Here,” Andy said, handing her a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she replied simply.

Kennedy blinked, thrown by the casual intimacy. Since when did his brother hand bottled water to a woman like that?

“She’s your sister-in-law,” Andy said suddenly.

Kennedy’s eyes flew wide. “Sister-in-law?”

Alicia frowned at his doubt. Leaning in, she gave Andy a quick, confident peck on the cheek. He froze, stunned—the first kiss he’d received from any woman who wasn’t his mother.

Kennedy’s jaw nearly hit the ground.

Andy cleared his throat, color rising from his neck to his cheeks. “Let’s go racing,” he said, then maneuvered his wheelchair forward, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.