Chapter 995

Heather felt she had already shown mercy. She disliked such intimate contact with other men, and considered a minor punishment and stern warning sufficient. More pressing matters demanded her attention; offending Ralph was not an option.

Ralph, unguarded, winced at the cut on his lip. Fury erupted. "You're crazy! Are you sick?!"

His outburst iced Heather's demeanor. She’d only intended a small lesson, but his scolding elicited a withering stare. Ralph's anger intensified after his outburst, but Heather's cold, predatory gaze terrified him. His heart trembled; he regretted his words.

"That really hurt!" His bravado faltered. He flinched at her gaze, hissing in pain as he raised a hand to his lip, then hesitated, fear overriding the urge to touch the wound. He lowered his hand dejectedly.

Heather's murderous aura flickered, then vanished, replaced by disdain for his cowardly display. What a coward. She wouldn't tolerate his behavior, were it not for the Russell family's exceptionally well-hidden kickboxing handbook.

She turned, poured a glass of water, and offered it. "Here."

Ralph, fearful and confused, anticipated a splash. "Rinse your mouth. It'll reduce the pain," Heather said coldly, her tone less lethal than her previous glare.

He snatched the glass and hurried to the bathroom. Just as he was about to drink, a thought struck him. He turned, peering out. "You...didn't put any salt in, did you?"

Heather was taken aback. She shrugged, evasive. "Shouldn't you know if I keep salt in my room?"

His logic prevailed. Salt in a bedroom was nonsensical. Still, nervousness lingered. He ran water, emptied the glass, refilled it, and rinsed his mouth.

Observing from outside the bathroom, Heather snorted at his hunched posture. The splashing water, followed by another contemptuous scoff, prompted her to turn away.

She moved towards the door, surveying the corridor. The house's unremarkable exterior had been a calculated choice for her residence. A cursory inspection revealed nothing out of the ordinary; it seemed just another grand mansion.

After reflection, she concluded the handbook was likely concealed within a hidden compartment—a crucial artifact for an influential family like the Russells, who undoubtedly possessed secret rooms and passages. Her own family, residing on a seemingly isolated island, still boasted numerous hidden routes, protecting not just against outsiders, but also against rebellious family members.

Heather realized Ralph remained essential to her swift discovery of the kickboxing handbook.