"Get out!" The sharp, undeniable command echoed through the room.
Morwenna flinched, her grip tightening on the suitcase she carried. She believed Norbert was probably right - Stuart may not have what it takes to get a wife. He was undoubtedly handsome but far too fierce for most.-
Yet, she had promised Norbert to take good care of Stuart and couldn't abandon that promise.
After a moment of thought, Morwenna spoke earnestly, "I'm a great cook, you know. I'm quite efficient with the housework, too. And I'm good at looking after people."
Stuart sat there, his demeanor as cold as icicles hanging from the eaves of houses in a winter village, beautiful but dangerously sharp.
But Morwenna wasn't intimidated. As a child, when there were no sweets to eat, she would break off icicles and crunch on them.
She wasn't bothered by the coldness, her face a picture of sincerity.
Suddenly, Stuart's phone rang.
With a casual movement, he answered the call.
Norbert's voice came warning through the phone, "Take good care of Morwenna. She's now staying at Windcharm Villas, and if you dare turn her away, that woman will never set foot in our family again!" Stuart's voice deepened. "This is the last time!"
After hanging up, he looked at Morwenna with narrowed eyes. "You said you wanted to take care of me?"
Morwenna nodded, her gaze inadvertently falling on a small, mesmerizing mole near the corner of Stuart's eye.
Stuart suddenly chuckled, a sound dark and chilling, like a villain eyeing his prey with sharp fangs exposed. "Given you're so stubborn about remaining here, alright, go ahead!"
But he didn't make it sound like an easy promise.
Challenging Norbert's threats and daring to step into his life, she should be prepared for the consequences.
Unaware that this marriage was out of threats from Norbert and Stuart was utterly reluctant, Morwenna saw Stuart's agreement as a positive sign. Her eyes brightened, curving like crescents in pure joy. Stuart's cold gaze paused unexpectedly.
Carrying her luggage, Morwenna stepped into the house. Then she nearly bumped into a man in a floral shirt at the entrance.
"Mr. Hetfield, who is this beautiful beauty?" the man asked.
As she entered, she saw the house wasn't just home to Stuart. There were other men and women.
The living room was full of drinks, and a group gathered around, boisterously enjoying themselves.
Around Stuart, though, it seemed as if there was an invisible barrier, with him sitting apart from the rest.
When Stuart had spoken earlier, everyone had fallen silent, and since Morwenna had been outside, she hadn't noticed these people.
At the time, a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her.
As Morwenna walked in, the drunk crowd encircled her, sizing her up.
"Ha, she is special, isn't she? What era is this antique from? Looks so out of place."
"How has Mr. Hetfield's taste changed so much? With a pearl-like Adelaide, how could he fancy this plain Jane?"
"She's pretty, sure, but is she even of age?"
Surrounded and mocked by the dressed-up group, Morwenna became the target of their ridicule.
Stuart did nothing to stop them, watching indifferently.
Emboldened by his lack of action, the crowd became more unrestrained.
A regular girl might have crumbled under such scrutiny, feeling inferior and frightened.
But not Morwenna. Raised in hardship, she had developed a resilience uncommon to many.
Frowning at the crowd, she stated earnestly. "That's rude, you know."
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