Chapter 263 Mrs. Windsor Is Very Smart
"Does it hurt?" Natalie hesitated to touch his arm and withdrew her hand.
"No, It doesn’t."
Oliver contemplated lying, tempted to say, ‘It hurts’, but he could not bear for her to worry too much.
Dismissing the distracting thoughts in her mind, Natalie focused on helping him clean up. However, it was not easy for her to focus when someone was constantly staring at her.
"Can you close your eyes?" Natalie asked with a hint of helplessness. She found it hard to ignore his piercing gaze.
"I want to make sure you do it thoroughly. Don’t miss any spots,” Oliver said, justifying his action.
‘Why do I feel like he’s toying with me? Is it my imagination?’
Taking a deep breath, Natalie reminded herself that he had gotten injured because of her and that she could not be heartless.
Post-bath, Oliver insisted Natalie help him put on his clothes, claiming that he might aggravate his wound if he did it himself.
‘How come you didn’t worry about aggravating your wound when you undressed earlier? This man is really cunning!’
Natalie knew Oliver could be domineering and unreasonable, so she knew it was pointless to argue with him. In the end, she brought a bathrobe over for him.
Oliver had anticipated amusement in being dressed by Natalie but discovered a unique satisfaction instead.
Her fingers, slender and gentle, adeptly tied a butterfly knot on the robe's belt. However, she seemed to think it was unfitting, so she changed it to a more elegant knot.
Oliver, observing Natalie's focused expression, felt a stir in his heart and leaned in for a gentle kiss.
“Thank you.”
"Stay still." Natalie glared at him. It was difficult to dress him when he kissed her.
Before exiting the bathroom, Oliver admired his reflection, noting the meticulous arrangement of his bathrobe. His lips curved into a smile, and his gaze softened with affection.
…
After dinner, Natalie wandered the garden before returning to the master bedroom to await Oliver.
Oliver, the workaholic, dealt with urgent tasks and returned to the bedroom earlier than usual. Upon entering, he found Natalie seated quietly by the French window, as if frozen in time.
"Oliver, we need to talk," Natalie said as she turned to look at him.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to talk about?”
He had anticipated this moment, sensing Natalie's concerns. He approached her and lifted her onto his lap, seating themselves together.
The master bedroom's windows offered a view of the magnificent lake under the moonlight, its surface poised to freeze in winter's depth.
Natalie struggled to get down, feeling it was inappropriate to have a serious conversation in such a posture.
Oliver's grip on her waist was firm. "Don’t move. We won’t be able to talk tonight if you keep moving like that."
Natalie froze.
As Oliver played with her hair, waiting, Natalie finally spoke. She gazed at the tranquil lake as she said, “Oliver, I don’t like this feeling…”
"What feeling?" Oliver's expression showed concern.
“The feeling of being excluded,” Natalie said, struggling with her words despite rehearing several times, “Throughout this ordeal, you chose to conceal everything from me. I feel... I feel isolated."
She looked at him and continued, “I feel like I’m not your wife. Perhaps I’m not strong enough, not smart enough, and not useful to you… However, I’m not ignorant…”
Oliver felt a tightness in his chest at her words.
‘How could she say that about herself? Even when she was anxious, she thought of protecting Lilian… How could she not be intelligent? With just one hint, she was able to piece things together… How could she think she’s not useful to me? She’s the most important person in my life…’
"You’re my wife,” Oliver affirmed, holding Natalie closer, his chin resting on her shoulder as he took in her scent. "Natalie, if you’re not my wife, then who’s my wife?"
Natalie's eyes welled up with tears, her feelings mixed. Yes, she was his wife, but in this scenario, how was her situation any different from that of other women? The secrecy, the unease—it made her feel inadequate.
Feeling her despondency, Oliver let out a sigh, at a loss for how to console her. Comforting a woman was not his forte. Then, he recalled Roger's words.
‘You only included those who are useful to you and disregarded Natalie. Maybe one day, you’d also be disregarded…’
The prospect of being disregarded by Natalie filled him with intense pain.
Clearly, Roger’s words mirrored Natalie’s feelings about being left in the dark.
Olive did not want to involve Natalie in the conflict. However, it was clear to him that Roger had a better understanding of Natalie, which made him incredibly frustrated.
Oliver tugged at the collar of his bathrobe, feeling suffocated. He thought about her visit to the detention center and how she almost cried.
In the end, Oliver said, “The culprit isn’t Hailey; it’s Edwin.”
He chose this as the starting point, signaling his readiness to share everything.
Natalie was not surprised. She asked, “I did feel like Hailey’s story didn’t add up. But why did she cover for Edwin? And what about that man?”
"You’re very smart,” Oliver said with a smile that reached his eyes. He kissed her lightly before he continued, “That man has a gambling addiction. He’s millions of dollars in debt. Edwin promised to clear his debt and also added another one million in exchange for his loyalty. That man has a family to look after, so he naturally accepted the deal,” Oliver explained.
"Why didn’t you expose Edwin then?" Natalie asked, puzzled. After all, Oliver had no reason to protect Edwin.
"What do you think?" Oliver inquired, genuinely interested in her answer.
The sharing of this information eased much of Natalie's discomfort. She began to thoughtfully analyze the intricate web of relationships and motives.
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