Chapter 236 Standing Up for the Wife
Grace mocked him coldly. "Don't bother; you can't get out without a key. And cover up your disgusting self!"
Wilber trembled and stammered, "The only blanket is with you, what do I use to cover up?"
Grace let out a scornful laugh. "Oh, what, you want to fight me for it?"
Wilber fell silent.
"You know, you're really pathetic. You had such a great opportunity and still couldn't get Luann Weaver," Grace said, no longer feeling the need to hide her contempt.
Wilber sensed something was off. "What do you mean?"
"That bitch Luann must have caught on! The drink that was supposed to be hers, how did it end up in my hands?" Grace clenched her teeth in anger.
It was so close.
She had been so close to succeeding!
Wilber Gilbert's pupils dilated in shock. "What are you saying? Could it be... could it be that this was all your doing?"
Grace gave him a disgusted look. "Idiot!"
"How could you do this! You've gone too far!" Wilber Gilbert burst out in anger.
Grace pulled a mocking smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I've gone too far?"
"Isn't what I've done something you've always thought of but never dared to do?"
"Wilber Gilbert, don't you feel it's a shame?"
"To be with Luann Weaver for two years and never even got a taste of what she's like."
"And then my good-for-nothing brother just swoops in and takes advantage of the situation."
Wilber Gilbert's Adam's apple bobbed, his anger in his eyes gradually dissipating, replaced by traces of resentment.
Grace kept up with her sarcasm. "Tsk tsk, I didn't realize you're such a saint."
Wilber Gilbert's fists slowly clenched, but he dared not utter a rebuttal.
Meanwhile, outside the cellar.
A figure stepped inside.
The two servants guarding the door quickly and respectfully greeted, "Young Master."
Myron Curtis acknowledged with a cold grunt, "How are things inside?"
"Quiet... The master said to teach the young lady a lesson. After twelve hours, bring her out and continue to hold that man."
Myron Curtis narrowed his eyes slightly, "Oh? Only hold Grace for twelve hours?"
The servant hesitated and said, "Young Master, the young lady is delicate, and the cellar is cool. Spending too much time there isn't good for her health."
"Cool? I don't feel it." Myron Curtis pressed his fingertip against the crack in the door.
A chill wind seeped out from the inside, penetrating into Myron Curtis's fingertips.
"A higher temperature isn't good for storing wine."
Myron Curtis said icily, "Go get some ice blocks and put them inside."
The servants were startled and looked at each other.
"This..."
With a temperature of thirteen degrees, the two inside didn't even have enough clothes.
If they brought in ice blocks, wouldn't that freeze them senseless?
Myron Curtis swept a cold glance at them that brooked no refusal, scaring them into a shiver.
"Well, don't just stand there!"
"Yes... yes!"
The two servants practically tumbled away.
"What is the Young Master trying to do? Should we really get ice blocks?"
"Should I go and ask the old man? What if the young lady really gets harmed by the cold?"
"Well... I'll go get the ice blocks. We can't keep the Young Master waiting - you know his temper."
So the two split up, one going to the study to find Vito Curtis.
Vito Curtis was surprisingly still awake.
After being told about the situation, Vito Curtis simply sighed deeply.
"Everyone listens to him."
How could Grace be as foolish as Joshua, poking at the wrong person—messing with Luann Weaver, of all people...
Now that Myron Curtis was angry, even if he wanted to protect them, he wouldn't dare utter a word of dissent.
So, the punishment would be theirs to bear!
"Yes..." came the resignation.
Soon, a servant brought in a bucket brimming with ice.
It was carried inside.
The moment the door opened, Wilber Gilbert and Grace looked up in unison, thinking perhaps Vito Curtis had decided to show them mercy.
However, they saw a man standing there as if he had walked straight out of hell.
"The boss said the cellar's too warm; he's sent us to fetch ice to cool it down," the servant reported before quickly departing, not daring to linger.
Grace watched the opening and closing door and growled with anger, "That damned Myron Curtis! Does he want to kill us?!"
Wilber Gilbert was already cold, but now, with a whole bucket of ice in the room, he was shivering uncontrollably.
He curled up as tightly as he could, not wanting to miss out on any warmth that he might be able to grasp.
Grace wasn't faring much better, just hoping to survive until the morning.
They didn't know that Myron Curtis had not left; he was sitting on a stone bench in the backyard.
Dawn broke, and the sky began to turn a faintly white.
The chessboard on the stone table had been played over and over again.
Lights came on in the villa, and a servant entered the kitchen, quickly emerging again.
"Mr. Curtis, sir?" The servant faltered, surprised to see Myron Curtis out so early.
His cool gaze swept over the tray in her hands.
"Breakfast?"
"Yes..."
"Leave one here."
"Alright."
The servant set a breakfast on the stone table, intending to go back and make another.
But Myron Curtis said, "Take the rest down."
"Huh? But this one... it's not enough."
A bowl of porridge, a single bun—it was hardly a meal.
Myron Curtis didn't respond, only tapping his slender finger on the table.
Terrified, the servant hastily walked toward the cellar.
Frozen all night, starved all night.
Right now, the warm porridge was undoubtedly the best sort of comfort.
Groggy and disoriented, Wilber Gilbert opened his eyes and slapped his face to alertness.
His face was pale, and his lips cracked.
The scent of white rice porridge and the meat bun wafted through the air, teasing his nostrils.
"Food... it's food..."
And it was hot!
Wilber Gilbert felt a surge of strength, just about to reach for it, when he heard Grace's haughty voice.
"Do you dare compete with me for it?"
Under normal circumstances, Wilber Gilbert wouldn't dare, and he would've retreated to the corner obediently.
Last night's onslaught of ice cubes had left him in excruciating pain. The only source of warmth was with Grace. If things continued this way, he was sure that he was going to die.
"I'll just take it if I have to!" Wilber Gilbert declared fiercely before leaping forward. He grabbed a dumpling and shoved it into his mouth, devouring it hungrily.
Grace, infuriated, stood up with a shaky posture. She walked over and delivered a heavy slap across Wilber Gilbert's face. The dumpling tumbled out of his mouth and fell to the ground, picking up dirt.
"You dare hit me?!" Wilber Gilbert felt an indescribable sense of shame. In his eyes, he was nothing but a pawn used by Grace to ruin Luann Weaver's reputation. He hadn't gained anything from the ordeal and had even gotten himself into trouble with the powerful Curtis Family. His dignity was now trampled under Grace's feet. Even in his current state, Grace wasn't satisfied?
With rage-filled eyes and bereft of all reason, Wilber Gilbert fiercely grabbed Grace's hair, causing her to cry out in pain.
"What are you so proud of, Grace?" he sneered. "Even a Curtis Family heiress like yourself was crying and begging in my hands last night. If you dare to mess with me again, I'll spill everything and destroy your reputation!"
