When Catherine regained consciousness again, all she saw was a wash of white.

She opened her eyes and found Leandro standing by her bedside. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and a light stubble had grown on his chin—he looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

Seeing her awake, his eyes were filled with pain and worry. He gently pulled her into his arms, his voice tinged with anxiety and fear.

“Sweetheart, didn’t I tell you to stay home and wait for me? Where did you go off to? And you come back all hurt like this. Tell me—did someone bully you? I swear, I’ll make that person pay.”

Their son stood nearby, pulling at her hand with a pout.

“Yeah, Mom, why did you run off like that? You made Dad and me so worried.”

Catherine met their anxious, and caring gazes. Bitterness welled up inside her. She pressed her lips together and spoke softly.

“Yesterday, you two...”

Suddenly, her words were cut off by a sharp ringtone breaking the silence.

Leandro’s expression tightened as he glanced at the caller ID. Hastily, he hung up.

But the caller was persistent, immediately dialing again.

Nash noticed the incoming call and his eyes lit up. He anxiously shook Leandro’s hand.

“Dad, the phone.”

Reluctantly, Leandro answered.

“What’s going on? Why call at this hour?”

But instead of English, he spoke in Italian.

The sudden switch caught Catherine off guard. She instinctively looked at Leandro, only to see him exchange a knowing glance with their son.

The three then smoothly conversed in Italian.

“Leandro, can you come keep me company tonight? The thunder is so loud—I’m really scared of being alone.”

The trembling voice of a woman echoed softly through the receiver.

Leandro glanced at Catherine, realizing she didn’t understand Italian. His tense expression softened.

Recalling how Catherine had suddenly collapsed the day before, his heart tightened and he declined Nina’s request.

“I can’t make it tonight. Catherine is sick, I have to stay with her.”

Silence hung heavily in the room, the other side spoke, but Catherine couldn't hear it clearly.

Leandro’s gaze was fixed on the phone screen. His expression suddenly darkened, and his voice turned raspy.

“Be good and wait for me at the villa. No matter what, you have to hold on.”

After hanging up, Nash furrowed his brows and quickly said in Italian, “Dad, I want to go too! Aunt Nina is scared of the thunder, and I can protect her!”

Leandro agreed, feeling the slight tremble beside him. He carefully tucked the blanket around Catherine again and raised the air conditioning temperature.

“Sweetheart, are you cold? Do you feel better now?”

The familiar scent of perfume drifted to her, but it couldn’t soothe her aching heart.

Catherine raised her eyes to meet the man’s gentle, tender gaze. Her voice trembled unconsciously.

“What were you just talking about?”

Leandro smiled faintly and affectionately stroked her hair.

“Nash’s Italian teacher was updating me on his progress. He even praised how smart our son is.”

“Yeah, Mom, the call was from my Italian teacher. She’s really nice.”

Looking at their warm, familiar faces, Catherine felt a chill running through her body.

They didn’t know she had already learned Italian a long time ago.

She understood every word of their conversation. But they still chose to lie to her.

Her heart twisted painfully, overwhelmed by helplessness and exhaustion.

“I... I want to rest now.”

With that, she turned over and curled under the covers, showing them only her back.

“Sweetheart, rest well.”

After planting a gentle kiss on her hair, Leandro took Nash and left the room.

But Catherine lay awake in bed, tears soaking into the pillowcase, dampening one corner.

In the middle of the night, Catherine suddenly developed a high fever.

Her head felt heavy and muddled, sweat soaked through her cotton pajamas, and her entire body was cold and trembling.

3:00 AM.

Enduring the unbearable discomfort, she reached out with trembling fingers and dialed Leandro’s number.

The call was answered in less than a second, but no one spoke on the other end—only the sound of rustling clothes came through.

“Leandro... I really... can’t take it anymore...”

A coquettish voice, soft and flirtatious, came clearly through the receiver, stabbing into Catherine’s ears. Then came a man’s familiar voice, husky and laced with teasing.

“Be good. Didn’t you just say you could?”

The breathless moans of desire laced with flirtation scraped at Catherine’s nerves like knives, stabbing straight into her chest.

Three full hours of torment.

Every second felt like being fried in oil, swallowed by flames—an excruciating torture that tore at her soul.

Ding.

The call ended abruptly, and a message popped up a second later.

It was a screenshot of a chat.

In the image, Nina straddled a bed in black lace bunny lingerie, her delicate figure posing seductively as she stared into the camera with sultry eyes.

[Your little bunny is waiting obediently for her master~]

Beneath the photo, Leandro’s plain black profile responded with just three curt words.

[Wait for me.]

A crushing pain spread through Catherine’s chest like a thousand tiny needles.

So that was it. He had changed his mind after seeing this photo.

Curled up under the blanket, she began to cry softly. A dull ache throbbed at her temples.

She had thought that after seeing the ambiguous marks Nina bore before, she would have gotten used to it and become numb.

But the agony still came, overwhelming and deep, seeping into her bones.

Only after the tears had dried did she force herself to close her eyes and switch off the screen.

But the relentless fever kept her awake the entire night.

—

The next morning, Leandro returned with their son—and a woman.

“Sweetheart, this is Nash's new Italian teacher. She’ll be staying with us temporarily, but she’ll move out in a few days.”

“Good morning, Madam. I’m Nash's Italian teacher. Sorry for the sudden intrusion.”

Catherine looked at Nina, whose eyes brimmed with undisguised provocation.

She didn’t take the outstretched hand.

The room fell into a brief, tense silence.

Nina lowered her eyes and let her voice tremble with apparent hurt.

“Madam, am I... not welcome here?”

Leandro paused, then spoke with a heavier tone. “Sweetheart?”

When she still didn’t respond, their son Nash scowled and stomped up to grab Catherine’s hand.

“This is my favorite teacher! Mommy, you’re a grown-up! Don’t you know how to be polite?”

The rebuke hit her square in the chest.

Catherine stared at their forcibly joined hands, then finally took Nina’s hand in hers.

“Madam, I’ll be in your care for the next few days.”

Nina’s voice was sweet and sincere—but her grip was cruel.

Her sharp nails dug deep into Catherine’s palm, drawing blood.

The sudden pain made Catherine instinctively shake her hand free, but Nina took the chance to stumble backward and crash to the floor.

“Ah! That hurts!”

Tears spilled from her eyes in an instant, her reddened gaze brimming with sorrow.

“If Madam didn’t want me to stay, you could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have imposed. I never thought you’d dislike me this much...”

Her voice was a blend of heartbreak and grievance—three parts sadness, seven parts accusations.

Leandro’s eyes flashed with concern as he stepped forward to help her up.

He swept his gaze at Catherine and intoned coldly, “Catherine, that was too harsh.”

“Yeah, Mommy! That was way out of line. How could you push someone like that? What if she got hurt?”

Nash shielded Nina like a little lion cub guarding his own, checking her anxiously for injuries.

Their accusatory words crushed down on Catherine’s heart.

She stared blankly at the three of them, united on the same side, as the stinging pain in her palm spread through her chest.

Nash quickly brought over the first-aid kit, his small face twisted in anger.

“Aunt Nina, Mommy didn’t mean it. Don’t blame her. She’s always acting weird, fiddling with those broken things. Even the kids at kindergarten say she’s gone crazy from it.”

A wave of pressure surged in her chest. Catherine turned and walked away, forcing herself not to hear another word.

Soon... she would be gone.

She clenched her injured hand, stood up, and headed toward the backyard.

But a voice called after her from behind.

“Miss Flores.”

Catherine froze in her tracks.

She turned around to see Nina standing behind her, a smug expression on her face.

“Miss Flores, I wonder... did you enjoy the little performance just now? Your husband and son both trust me completely. That must’ve stung, didn’t it?”

She leaned in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“It was actually my idea to move in. I just acted a little spoiled with Leandro, and told him my mother’s death anniversary was coming up and how scared I was to be alone in the villa, and he couldn’t bear to refuse me. So he agreed to let me stay here for a while.”

Each word was like a dagger, and Catherine trembled from head to toe.

Smack!

A loud, crisp slap echoed through the hallway.

Nina’s cheek instantly turned red and swollen.

“That’s enough! Enough! Enough!”

Catherine’s eyes were bloodshot. Her body swayed before she collapsed to the floor, sharp pain shooting up from her ankle.

Clutching her ears, she fled into the room and slammed the door behind her.

Behind her, Nina gently touched her stinging cheek, fury darkening her eyes.

"Just you wait Catherine," she whispered through gritted teeth.

—

That night, Catherine curled up in bed, a storm of emotions crashing through her chest—rage, grief, helplessness.

She couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning, she finally got out of bed and went downstairs to get some water.

The villa was eerily quiet, almost too quiet. A strange unease began to swell in her chest.

The door to the backyard was ajar.

Something urged her forward—an instinct she couldn’t explain.

And then she heard it. The unmistakable sound of water sloshing, mixed with soft moans and wind.

Her whole body froze. It was as if her blood had started to run backward.

Through the crack in the door, she could clearly see two figures locked in a passionate kiss.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but eventually, Leandro shoved Nina away. His eyes were still burning with lust, but his face was gloomy.

“Are you insane? This is the Kennedy residence. Catherine is still here. Didn’t I tell you—my bottom line is to keep this away from her? Have I spoiled you so much lately that you think you can do whatever you want? First, you insist on staying here, and now you’re seducing me here?”

But Nina didn’t answer.

Instead, she dropped to her knees and leaned in, rubbing her face against him with unrelenting determination.

Leandro’s low grunt of pleasure only encouraged her further. She let out soft, coquettish gasps as she continued.

His breathing grew heavier, voice laced with strained desire.

“You little vixen...”

Nina just smiled, unbothered.

“Do you like it, Leandro? I wore this just for you.”

Her answer was met with his ragged breath—his restraint vanishing.

“Tighten your legs. I’m going to give you what you want.”

The next moment, the two of them were entangled, skin against skin, consumed by lust and desire.

Catherine couldn't take it any longer.

She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, and turned to leave—only to collide with someone at the corner.

It was Nash, rubbing his sleepy eyes, looking groggy and confused.

His pupils shrank. His gaze darted around nervously, trying to avoid her eyes.

Panicked, he grabbed her wrist, his voice soft and pleading.

“Mommy, I’m so sleepy... can you read me a bedtime story?”

He clung tightly to her hand and pulled her away, only releasing her when they reached the living room.

'Thank God. Mommy didn’t see anything.' He thought.

But Catherine felt like her heart was being sliced open, one cut at a time.

Her beloved husband had his mistress hidden away. And now even her precious son was helping cover for them.

Perfect. Just perfect!

She bit her lip harder, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.

Nash dragged her back to the bedroom, pulled a book at random from the bookshelf, and asked her to read to him.

As she opened it, a folded drawing slipped out and landed on the floor.

Her eyes caught on it instantly.

It was Nash's school art assignment—a family portrait.

But in the picture... were Leandro, Nash, and Nina.

No mother.

Just the three of them.

Catherine stood there frozen, her hand trembling as she reached for the paper.

But Nash was faster. He snatched it away before she could touch it.

A sharp pain pierced her heart.

She forced herself to smile, but her voice shook despite her best efforts.

“Nash... who did you draw in that picture?”