Diana Bell pushed open the master suite doors of the Forbidden Manor, greeted by a vista of restrained, high-end sophistication.
This was her marital home with William Knight.
It was a stark contrast to the Bell residence—which was always bustling, lived-in, and frankly, a bit cluttered. Here, the palette was dominated by shades of slate and ivory, featuring minimalist furniture with sharp, aggressive lines. The only hint of softness in the sterile room was a thick, snow-white plush rug covering the floor.
This blend of extreme rationality and impeccable aesthetics was quintessential William Knight.
"Does Mr. Knight stay here often?" Diana asked, her fingertips grazing the cool surface of the entryway console.
The assistant bowed slightly. "Lord Knight owns numerous properties, and his visits here have been few and far between. However, Miss Bell, as of today, the title deed to this villa has been officially transferred to your name."
Diana remained silent for a moment before asking with feigned nonchalance, "So... will he be coming by tonight?"
The assistant thought of the wall-to-order schedule of government meetings on the calendar. He had intended to say "no," but then he recalled Lord Knight's "erratic" behavior over the past two days—canceling international conferences for the sake of Miss Bell. The words took a detour.
"Logically speaking, it's impossible," the assistant replied with a pensive, almost mystical tone. "But according to Lord Knight's recent 'quantum fluctuations,' it's a coin toss. Whether he returns or not depends entirely on your... gravitational pull."
Diana understood. It was a matter of probability.
By the time she finished unpacking and headed downstairs, the dining table was already laden with a feast. Noah Bell, who had been hungry enough to see stars, had uncharacteristically refrained from touching the food. He sat there primly until Diana took the first bite; then, he lunged at the spread like a broken dam.
Munching on a spicy bowl of "Mao Xue Wang," Noah remarked, "Sis, your husband's palate is just like yours! Heavy on the oil and spice—totally my vibe!"
The assistant chimed in from the side, "Actually, Lord Knight usually eats very light; he's partial to Cantonese dim sum. This Szechuan spread was ordered personally by Lord Knight this morning. He called the butler specifically to list Miss Bell's preferences and allergies before hiring a specialist chef."
Diana's hand tightened slightly on her chopsticks. She remembered their casual chat in the kitchen the previous night. She had mentioned a craving for spicy stir-fry in passing, never dreaming he would actually follow through.
This feeling of having her small details cherished was something the Bell family had never given her. In the Bell household, her soy allergy was treated as a "nuisance" everyone just ignored; soy products were a permanent fixture on their table.
If you don't love someone, even their life is a burden; but if you care, their every whim is a royal decree.
"Please tell the chef," Diana whispered to the maid, "that whenever Mr. Knight is home, the menu should focus on light Cantonese cuisine."
If he was willing to cater to her stomach, she was more than willing to look after his heart.
After lunch, Diana decided to pick up some daily essentials, but not before "handling" Noah.
"I'm heading out this afternoon. Stay home and behave."
Noah's eyes lit up like lightbulbs. "Seriously? Does that mean I can—"
"Five sets of mock math exams. You don't eat until they're finished," Diana said coolly. "I'll be back to check. If you sneak off to an internet cafe, you'll be tasting 'bamboo-shoot-fried-meat' tonight. We'll see which is tougher: your backside or my stick."
Noah let out a theatrical wail. "Sis! I'm a delicate flower of the nation! I'm eating and living under Lord Knight's roof—what right do you have to boss me around?"
"I can have your brother-in-law kick this 'delicate flower' out into the sun right now."
Noah snapped to a military salute. "Five sets it is! Mission guaranteed!"
As she stepped out of the villa, a brand-new Porsche Taycan sat shimmering in the sunlight in a signature "Frozen Berry" pink. The paint glistened like silk; the wedding gifts from William Knight were arriving in style.
Half an hour later, Diana was in a private high-end lingerie boutique, joined by her filterless best friend, Penelope Reed.
Amidst the heavy atmosphere of the "Seduction Zone," Diana picked out a wine-red silk slip. The deep-V cut was daring, the sides were nearly translucent, and it was breathtakingly short.
Penelope clicked her tongue in awe. "Damn, look at the marital initiative! The girl who used to blush at showing an ankle is now preparing a 'visual feast' for the Young Master of the East City?"
"...Keep your voice down."
"Why? Lord Knight probably bought out this whole floor for you anyway," Penelope said, holding up a purple lace piece with a heart-shaped cutout. "Babe, this one is even deadlier. If you wear this and William stays composed, I'm going to start questioning if he's actually functional down there."
Diana thought back to the kitchen the night before—his predatory hands and that scorching body temperature.
"He's... he's fine," she defended in a small voice, her face flushing as memories flashed through her mind.
"Then why hasn't anything happened since the wedding?" Penelope asked, exasperated. "Did he marry you just to use you as a wall decoration?"
"We just haven't found the right... atmosphere."
"Atmosphere?" Penelope mumbled through a mouthful of an apple she'd found. "Who needs atmosphere? The sofa, the floor, the shower—anywhere is a battlefield. Unless he really is just a pretty, useless ornament."
Unable to take it anymore, Diana grabbed a bitter melon from a decorative display and stuffed it into Penelope's mouth.
"Eat your bitter melon and shut up."
While Penelope dashed to the restroom to rinse her mouth, Diana turned to the salesclerk and whispered, "The purple one too. Wrap it up, quickly."
In that moment, shame and a secret, fluttering anticipation warred in her chest.
Meanwhile, inside the solemn halls of the government office.
William Knight sat at the head of a long mahogany conference table. In his crisp dark suit and gold-rimmed glasses, he looked every bit the cold, inscrutable businessman. This was a high-stakes meeting regarding a multi-billion dollar financial stimulus package.
His assistant leaned in, whispering, "Lord Knight, Miss Bell has moved in. She spent the afternoon shopping. Also... she sent word asking if you're coming home tonight."
The man's fingers paused for a fraction of a second. He glanced at his watch.
According to the original plan, he was supposed to stay overnight to hammer out the details of the proposal with several high-ranking officials.
He remained silent for three seconds, then slid his phone open. He pulled up the contact labeled "Miss Bell" and typed a single line:
[Miss Bell, do you want me to come home tonight?]
The phone vibrated. The reply was almost instantaneous.
Miss Bell: [Yes.]
A faint, uncharacteristically tender curve appeared at the corner of William's mouth. He replied:
[If you want me, I'm there.]