Corrine let out a cold laugh.
"Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."
Her gaze slowly swept across the memorial hall, finally landing on a nearly invisible hidden door tucked into a corner.
That must be Lesley's room.
"Oh dear, I'm really sorry," Lesley said lightly, lips curled in a flirtatious smile.
"Last night was a bit too intense—we even knocked down your parents' portraits."
Every word landed squarely on Corrine's nerves.
"Actually," Lesley added with a grin, "your husband was the one who suggested it. He said doing it here made things more exciting."
The fiercer the rage burning inside her, the calmer Corrine became.
"Is that so?" she replied coolly. "Something I no longer want—feel free to take it."
Seeing that Corrine remained unperturbed, Lesley looked genuinely surprised.
"I'm really curious," she said slowly. "You're not shocked at all that I'm still alive—and sleeping with your husband?"
"Five years ago, he imprisoned me here," Lesley continued.
"On the surface, it was to make me kneel here every day and repent to your parents."
"But later... the way he made me 'atone' slowly changed."
She didn't finish the sentence. Her meaning was already painfully clear.
"Jonathan will be letting me out very soon," Lesley said smugly.
"And if you dare take a single step outside this estate—I'll kill you," Corrine intoned coldly.
As her fingers curled into tight fists, Lesley's mood visibly brightened.
"Hahahaha!"
"Kill me?"
"Corrine, after all these years, you're still just as naïve."
"Your husband is my shield. With him backing me, even if I killed someone, he'd protect me completely."
Seeing Corrine's lips pressed tight, her face drained of color, Lesley assumed she didn't believe her and grew even more bold.
"You don't believe me? Then you'll see soon enough."
Corrine was about to respond, but Lesley twisted her body and shut the hidden door.
Left alone in the memorial hall, Corrine glanced at her parents' black-and-white portraits, bitterness surging in her chest.
She returned to her wheelchair and carefully surveyed the room. Only after confirming there were no surveillance cameras did she finally relax—just a little.
Staring at Jonathan's bold, flowing signature on the document, a flicker of sorrow crossed her eyes. She had just handed the papers to the lawyer when Jonathan walked in.
Seeing the lawyer's retreating figure, he asked in confusion, "Corrine, why did you call a lawyer over?"
"It's nothing," she replied calmly. "I just consulted him about a few things."
Jonathan found it a little odd, but didn't dwell on it. He turned back and gently massaged her knees.
"Today's your follow-up appointment," he said softly. "Shall I go with you?"
Corrine shook her head. "No. I don't feel like going out lately."
"Just have the family doctor check me here."
He said nothing more and soon summoned the household physician to conduct a full examination of her legs.
"Madam's condition is stable," the doctor concluded. "There's no risk of deterioration, but for now, there's still no possibility of her standing up."
This doctor had long since been taken care of—so naturally, he played along with her lie.
As expected, a fleeting mix of disappointment and relief crossed Jonathan's face.
Seeing Corrine expressionless, he assumed she was heartbroken. He gently cupped her face, his voice tender.
"It's okay, Corrine."
"We agreed when we got married—I'll protect you for the rest of my life."
"Your legs will recover someday."
Corrine put on a deeply moved expression. But in truth, her heart was already dead, hollow with disappointment.
"Oh, right," Jonathan said casually. "I hired a few efficient new maids recently."
"When I'm not around and you feel lonely, you can pick a lively one to keep you company."
As he spoke, he waved his hand.
Several girls in maid uniforms walked in.
And almost instantly, Corrine's gaze locked onto the small tattoo just beneath Lesley's collarbone.
Since Jonathan insisted on placing her enemy right at her side, disguised as a maid, she would gladly go along with his little performance—after all, it would be a shame if they didn’t pay a heavy enough price for it.
