Dolores left the door of her room slightly ajar, feeling exhausted from working on multiple drafts. She decided to take a short rest and ended up falling asleep on the desk.
Charles, maneuvering his wheelchair with care, approached the bed quietly. To his surprise, he found Dolores in a peaceful slumber. Curiosity piqued, he picked up one of the drafts from the tray table. The strokes on the paper were elegant and fluid, conveying her intentions effortlessly.
It was evident that she possessed considerable talent and professionalism.
Amelia, entering the room, informed Charles, “Young Master, she’s a fashion designer.” Intrigued by Dolores’ sketches, she approached for a closer look. It confirmed Dolores’ claims, for the sketch was breathtakingly beautiful.
Charles, feeling slightly annoyed by Amelia’s loud voice, gave her a stern look. Understanding her mistake, Amelia immediately lowered her head, lips pressed together in remorse. She hadn’t intended to wake Dolores; she had only wanted to provide information regarding the drafts.
“Amelia, please try to be more composed in the future,” Charles advised with a calm demeanor.
“I understand, Young Master,” Amelia replied, her head still lowered.
In the midst of her nap, Dolores faintly heard voices and slowly opened her eyes, her brows furrowing.
“Did we wake you up?” Charles asked, observing the sleepy woman.
Rubbing her eyes, Dolores realized her arms had gone numb. Grimacing, she remarked, “Ouch…” Clearly, she was uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong? Are your arms numb?” Charles reached out, concerned. “Is it this arm? Let me massage it for you.”
Dolores hastily withdrew the arm he had grasped, waving it away. “No, thanks. I can take care of it myself.” She vigorously massaged her numb arm, hoping to alleviate the discomfort.
Charles retracted his hand without any change in expression. He wasn’t angered by Dolores’ avoidance; instead, he asked, “Do you like it?”
Initially confused, Dolores understood when she noticed the fish tank installed beside the head of the bed. Nodding absentmindedly, she responded, “They’re quite unique.”
Placing the draft back on the tray table, Charles withdrew his hand and said, “As long as they bring you joy, they are fortunate.”
Dolores lowered her head, pretending not to have heard his words. She carefully stored the drafts, avoiding any further discussion on the matter.
Observing Dolores’ reaction, Charles, perceptive and astute, swiftly changed the topic. “You must be bored staying in the house all the time.”
Dolores shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“Would you like me to show you around?” Charles suggested with a smile, maintaining his gentle demeanor.
Dolores was about to decline when she considered that exploring the surroundings would help her become more familiar with her environment. Eventually, she agreed.
“But my foot…” Dolores hesitated, realizing she couldn’t walk due to her injured foot. She didn’t wish to appear disabled and longed to recover soon so she could return home.
“Allow me to assist you,” Charles offered, extending his arms.
“Ms. Flores, let me help you,” Amelia interjected, swiftly moving to Dolores’ side to prevent her from accepting Charles’ arm. “I can handle it. Ms. Flores, it’s more convenient this way.”
Recognizing Amelia’s intentions, Dolores was pleased to oblige. She hooked her arm with Amelia’s and said, “Alright, Amelia, please help me.”
Charles glanced at Amelia without saying a word, then steered his wheelchair towards the exit. He turned back to Dolores and said, “Let’s start with my study.”
Both his bedroom and study were on the first floor, not far from Dolores’ room. After a few steps, they arrived at the study. Charles opened the door and entered first.
Amelia assisted Dolores inside and Charles instructed, “Place her in the chair. You can leave now.”
Although Amelia wished to stay, it was evident that Charles wanted her to depart. Reluctantly, she complied, helping Dolores into the chair before exiting the room. Just before closing the door, she glanced at Dolores.
Dolores wanted to assure Amelia that she harbored no romantic interest in Charles, but she remained silent, aware of his presence.
Once the study door closed, Charles moved toward the desk and casually asked, “Have you received formal training in drawing and painting?”
“Not extensively. I attended a fashion design college, which required some drawing skills. It provided a foundation,” Dolores replied smoothly.
However, she remained cautious around him. Charles displayed intelligence and effortlessly guided the conversation toward his desired topics.
Charles smiled. “Do you enjoy reading?”
“Occasionally,” Dolores replied, acknowledging that she didn’t have much time for reading. On occasion, she would peruse books related to fashion design.
“I’m quite fond of reading,” Charles said meaningfully. “Since I cannot walk and have few friends, books are my constant companions.”
Though he concealed it well, Dolores could sense the disappointment and melancholy in his voice. After all, being unable to walk would affect anyone emotionally.
Dolores glanced at the bookshelves behind the desk, made of exquisite red sandalwood, spanning the entire wall. Rows of books filled the shelves, their titles unfamiliar to her.
Charles reached down to the bottom row and pulled out a thick book with a blue cover, offering it to Dolores. As he handed it to her, he accidentally knocked over a photo frame on the desk.
Dolores didn’t intend to snoop, but her gaze was immediately captured by the photo inside.
It was Victoria Forbis.
Matthew’s stepmother.
Questions flooded Dolores’ mind. Why would Victoria’s photo be on Charles’ desk? What was their relationship? She couldn’t make sense of it all.
Charles discreetly observed Dolores’ reaction upon seeing the photo, confirming his suspicions.
“Who is she?” Dolores blurted out, feeling an odd mix of emotions.
Charles avoided discussing the subject, continuing to offer her the book. “You can read this one when you have time. It’s quite interesting.”
Dolores accepted the book politely but couldn’t help casting a glance at the framed photo that had been put back. She then turned her attention back to Charles. “Amelia told me you’re the only one left in your family.”
Charles’ expression briefly changed before returning to normal, accompanied by a faint smile. “Yes,” he replied simply, offering no further explanation.
Dolores understood his intention to avoid the topic.
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Amelia stood outside, announcing that it was time for dinner.
“Let’s go,” Charles said, maneuvering his wheelchair towards Dolores and extending his arm. “Take my arm.”
Dolores hesitated for a moment. “I’ll ask Amelia to help me up…”
“Are you turning me down? Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to embarrass the man who saved your life?” Charles raised an eyebrow, his words carrying a touch of aggression that made it hard for Dolores to resist.
Reluctantly, Dolores reached out and took his arm. Despite being in a wheelchair, Charles displayed a surprising strength. Dolores couldn’t help but notice his well-toned physique. Charles seemed delighted as he operated the wheelchair, guiding them towards the dining room. When they arrived, Dolores reached for the doorknob, but Amelia, who was still standing there, instinctively reached out to assist her.
A warning gaze from Charles made Amelia withdraw her hands in disappointment and leave. Dolores held the doorknob, opening the door and stepping inside.
Charles pulled out a chair for Dolores. “This is the first time we’re having dinner together.”
Dolores smiled inwardly, thinking, “We don’t know each other well, nor have we known each other for long.”
Amelia served the dishes, occasionally stealing glances at Dolores. In her eyes, Dolores was undeniably beautiful, which explained why Young Master treated her so well.
“Amelia, I asked you to make bone soup earlier. Did you prepare it?” Charles adjusted his napkin elegantly.
“Yes, it’s ready. I’ll bring it right away,” Amelia answered respectfully.
“I’ve heard that bone soup can help with your ankle recovery, although I’m not sure if it’s true. Just have more soup later,” Charles remarked.
“Thank you so much.” Dolores maintained an appropriate level of gratitude without being overly enthusiastic or distant.
Compared to Dolores, Charles appeared more enthusiastic. He smiled and commented sincerely, “A smart woman isn’t always favored.”
Dolores glanced at Amelia, who was approaching, and replied with a smile, “Indeed, I don’t want to overshadow others. I wouldn’t want my two children to feel unhappy about it.”
Charles was taken aback. He realized she was implying that she already had kids. Yet, she seemed quite young.
Amelia, more shocked than Charles, couldn’t believe that Dolores was a mother.
Filled with excitement, Amelia hurried her steps, accidentally stepping on water on the floor and slipping. The bowl of hot soup flew through the air, heading straight for Dolores.
“Watch out!”
Charles swiftly pushed his wheelchair backward and moved in front of Dolores, shielding her from the scalding soup. Consequently, the soup drenched his back, causing him to groan from the heat.
“Young Master!” Amelia exclaimed in fear.
Dolores quickly regained her senses. Seeing Charles in discomfort, she asked, “Are you okay?”
Charles looked up at her with a slight smile. “I’m fine.”
Dolores could tell he was far from fine, as his voice was noticeably lower. He was putting on a brave face.
“Amelia, call the doctor immediately!” Dolores urged.
“Okay, I’ll make the call right away.”
“Are you concerned about me?” Charles still held Dolores in his protective embrace, his eyes now filled with a spark of light.