After William Knight's teasing, Diana Bell lay in bed for an hour, unable to fall back asleep. Fortunately, she didn't have to work today. Otherwise, she definitely wouldn't have been able to drag herself out of bed, and she'd be facing a pay dock for being late.
By the time Diana finally got up, it was already 10:00 AM. She opened her wardrobe to get dressed, but then paused. Wait—where did her bras go? She remembered clearly hanging them in the closet yesterday.
Diana opened every single cabinet and searched the entire wardrobe. All ten of her bras were gone. There were always staff on duty in this villa, so it wasn't likely they had been stolen.
Which meant... the maid had put them away?
William definitely wouldn't have touched her lingerie.
Assuming it was the staff, they had to be somewhere in the room. Diana reached for the lower drawers and pulled one open. A row of perfectly folded little squares met her eyes.
Diana thought to herself that the staff in wealthy households certainly were meticulous—even bras were folded so precisely. However, repetitive folding could damage the underwire and padding, reducing the support they provided. This was a significant concern for Diana, who was quite well-endowed; proper support was essential to prevent sagging.
She took them all out, unfolded each little square, and hung them back in the closet. She picked out a purple one, leaning forward slightly as she slipped it on.
As she was dressing, Penelope Reed called. Diana set the phone on the desk and hit the speakerphone.
Penelope's excited voice burst through instantly. "Hey, babe! How was the battlefield last night? Was it a fierce struggle between you and the husband?"
"There was no 'battle,' so there's nothing to report," Diana replied.
"What?! You were wearing that 'war paint' lingerie and you didn't even fire the first shot?" Penelope's mind whirred for a second before she added, "Babe, I'm being serious—you should book an appointment for your husband with a specialist. If he's got some... performance issues, it's better to treat it early. If it's incurable, a woman shouldn't have to suffer. Just trade him in for a functional model."
Diana stepped into her tight blue jeans, pulling them up and buttoning the waist. "What performance issues? What goes on in that head of yours, Penelope? I think you're the one with a functional disorder—specifically, a lack of common sense."
"Hey, I'm just worried about your 'satisfaction'!"
"Stop worrying. I'm perfectly happy."
"Oh sure, 'happy.' Married for five days and you still haven't had a wedding night."
"Go out, turn left, and find a supermarket," Diana said. "You clearly need a bottle of bleach to clean out that dirty mind of yours."
Penelope noticed how quickly Diana jumped to his defense. "Diana, didn't you say you and your husband were just living separate lives with mutual respect? Why do I feel like you actually like him now?"
Diana's hand paused while buttoning her shirt. After a moment, she said, "Part of a marriage is mutual respect. William is my legal husband. If someone speaks ill of him, of course I'm going to defend him."
"And him? If someone insulted you to his face, would he defend you?"
Diana thought for a moment. "I think he would."
"Well, it's your life. I won't nag," Penelope said. "I don't want to sound like some bitter gossip. Just remember: sisters before misters, always. If you ever need anything, just say the word and I'm there."
"Thanks, Penelope."
"Look at you, thanking me before I've even done anything."
Diana smiled softly. "There's material help, and then there's emotional support. There aren't many people in this world who would promise to help me no matter what. I'm thanking you for actually caring about me."
Penelope wiped a fake tear from her eye. "Babe, you're making me emotional. Group hug!"
Diana laughed and finished buttoning her pale yellow blouse.
"The problem with you," Penelope continued in a mock-playful tone, "is that you're too independent. You bottle everything up and handle it yourself. I never get a chance to be the hero. Come on, give a girl a chance to spoil you!"
Diana chuckled. "Well, I'm craving an Oreo Lava Cheese Milk Tea. How about you do me a favor and grab me one?"
Penelope puffed out her chest. "I'll get you two! One to drink, and one to... well, also drink."
"Are you free today?" Diana asked. "Since we missed out on KFC yesterday, want to grab lunch?"
"Actually, I'm planning to take Noah to the nursing home to visit Grandma today." Diana had been so busy making money lately that she hadn't had time to visit. Now that she had a breather, she wanted to see her.
"I haven't seen Grandma in ages!" Penelope chirped. "I'll come with you. We can catch up with her together."
"Great. I'll pick you up in a bit."
Since the car William gave her was a two-seater, and she recalled seeing plenty of high-end cars in the garage when she moved in, Diana figured she'd borrow a four-seater. Remembering William's rule about "no interference," she decided to call his assistant instead of him.
"Miss Bell, how can I help you?" the assistant asked.
"I'm taking my brother and a friend to the nursing home today," Diana explained. "I was wondering if I could use one of the four-seater cars in the garage?"
"Of course! Mr. Knight made it clear that you have full access to everything in the Imperial Mansion."
"Where are the keys?"
"One moment, Miss Bell. I'll bring them to you right away."
The call happened to coincide with a break in William's meeting. The assistant approached William to inform him about the car keys, but William's phone rang first.
When he saw the caller ID, a flicker of irritation crossed William's usually stoic eyes. The assistant guessed who it was: the "Living Terror" himself. He stepped aside, not daring to make a sound.
William walked to the end of a deserted corridor before answering. A deep, middle-aged voice boomed through the speaker, trembling with rage. "I hear you've gotten married?"
"I have," William said calmly.
Adrian Knight's fury intensified. "Don't you think you should have told me? I'm your father, yet I find out my son is married from your grandmother!"
"As my father, perhaps you should reflect on why I didn't feel the need to tell you such important news immediately."
Adrian seemed stunned for a heartbeat. He had done many things to wrong William—too many to count. But as a man used to being the patriarch, he refused to admit fault.
He sneered, "It's probably because the woman you found isn't worth mentioning. Some small-town girl who can't handle high society. She's not fit to enter the Knight family. You were probably too embarrassed to tell me you brought home such low-class trash."
"My wife is worthy of every praise," William said, his voice cold and sharp. "She is beautiful, sincere, and honorable. She never attacks people without cause—which is more than I can say for you."
Adrian's temper flared again. "You've been married for a few days and you're already turning against me for her?"
"The law places a spouse at the top of the family hierarchy," William stated with icy precision. "Free will takes legal precedence over blood ties. My duty is to my wife first. I will not allow anyone to criticize her, whether they are my parents or my elders. She owes the Knight family nothing and should not have to endure your insults."
He paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This is the first and last time. If I hear you insult my wife again, remember: I am the one in power. I control the family's assets. I will ensure you don't receive another cent."
Adrian went silent. He didn't dare utter another word.