Chapter 1006

When Alexander was about to withdraw his hand, Lily grabbed it. He raised his eyebrows as she quietly asked, "How about… let's do it?" Her cheeks flushed as she lightly bit her lower lip.

Alexander's eyes widened in shock. Of course, he wanted to. He'd had to suppress his desire every time he hugged her to sleep. It was torture, but he knew he must resist for her and their child's health. Although Lily spoke directly, her eyes quickly darted away, betraying her shyness.

Alexander chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead, cheek, and then briefly, her lips. Lily opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Silly," he said softly, "we have a lifetime to do this. Now, none of that matters for your health. Understand?"

"Hmm," she murmured.

"Good night!" Kissing her forehead again, Alexander rose and dressed.

Lily looked at him suspiciously. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"I still have something to take care of. You go to bed first." After a moment's thought, he added, "Don't worry. I will never hide anything from you again."

Lily nodded, her thoughts drifting to Heather. "Um, about Heather…"

"She tested you today, so she probably won't return soon. Her goal is the secret handbook. I'm not sure if she has other motives, but I'll handle it." He paused. "Don't confront her directly. Even if you can protect yourself, there's no need to fight a lunatic." In his eyes, Heather was precisely that—a lunatic.

Alexander felt the urge to confront Heather immediately. He wondered if her obsession with the handbook blinded her to the possibility it might be a myth, or if her supposed engagement to Ralph was merely a ruse. Perhaps marriage was never her intention.

Meanwhile, Heather sat on the sofa in the Riggs family home, her coat askew, one shoulder bare. A small bruise marred her smooth skin; the faint scent of medicinal oil lingered in the air. Her expression was somber, mirroring the gloomy atmosphere of the house. After a servant applied the oil, she retreated, afraid to speak. Everyone feared Heather's wrath in her current mood.

Hannah had been hiding behind a door, observing Heather, too afraid to emerge but equally reluctant to return to her basement room. She'd spent the last few days there, feeling an unsettling restlessness she'd never experienced before. Months in that room hadn't bothered her, but these few days had been unbearable. She couldn't stop thinking about that man—his kiss, his breath, his strength. She knew it wasn't hers, yet the thoughts persisted.

“I must be losing my mind,” she whispered.