Chapter 308 The Gift on Her Terms

Wyatt shot the maid a look—cold, with a tinge of blame. She immediately lowered her head, full of unease.

Yunice lowered her eyes and gently tucked the old photo away. There was still breakfast to eat. Getting lost in sentiment was out of place now.

After the maid retreated, Yunice turned to Wyatt. “Can I use the Wellinges Pharma research center?”

Wyatt looked up. “Why?”

Yunice answered honestly. “You spent a lot on me yesterday. I was thinking, if I could develop an original drug, it might be useful for Wellinges Pharma…”

Clink–clink–clink…

She trailed off as she heard the spinning. Wyatt was idly flicking a porcelain teacup lid across the table, letting it spin in tight, rapid circles that filled the air with a sharp, nerve–racking sound.

Every time it slowed, he’d tap it again—casually, as if he had all the time in the world.

But for Yunice, the tension tightened like a string being pulled taut. Her chest was locked in rhythm with the lid’s spinning.

She realized she might have stepped on a landmine. If she didn’t answer right… the lid wouldn’t be the only thing shattered.

What had she said just now?

She’d mentioned that he’d spent too much on her yesterday.

And yesterday… was her birthday.

In a last–ditch effort, Yunice asked, “When’s your birthday?”

Come to think of it, ever since meeting Wyatt, she had never heard anyone mention it.

Wyatt looked at her. “I don’t celebrate birthdays.”

With his background, it made sense. Even into his teens, he was stashed away in some side yard, treated worse than a servant in the Powell household. Who would remember his birthday? Who would celebrate it?

They say a child’s birthday is the day a mother suffers most—but his mother had died horribly. He had even more reason to avoid celebrating.

Not every birthday is a joyful one. Not every birthday deserves a party.

Yunice realized she had stepped on another landmine.

She gripped her fork, frowned slightly, and asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

Wyatt caught the spinning lid and stilled it with his fingers. The tension snapped with it.

He said, “When you said I spent too much yesterday—were you talking about the fireworks and the cake?”

Yunice nodded. “They were too extravagant.”

She was afraid she’d never be able to pay him back.

Wyatt said, “No one gives their wife fireworks and cake as a gift. That’s just for fun—like popping champagne after a win. It’s for the mood. You get it?”

“When I give something, if someone dares give it back, I’ll toss them out along with the gift. Got it?”

Yunice blinked, then quickly replied, “Got it.”

Don’t use poor–people logic to measure a rich man’s world.

She returned to her meal and said nothing more about the research center.

Then Wyatt said, “I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

Yunice looked up. There was more?

Oh—right. He’d said earlier that the fireworks and cake didn’t count.

She glanced at his shirt pocket. It looked flat—no ring box there.

Where would he have hidden it?

Her eyes drifted to his wrist.

Wyatt noticed and pulled his sleeve down to cover the beaded bracelet. “No chance,” he said flatly.

Yunice was speechless.

Then he said, “Next time you come to the office, pick up your ID card. You can use the research center.”

That was his real birthday gift.

A bit unconventional, but… it hit her right in the heart.

They finished breakfast in surprisingly good spirits.

Yunice had the day off. She didn’t know why Wyatt hadn’t gone to work, but she didn’t ask.

They had been married for a little over two weeks, but Yunice still didn’t know exactly how to get along with Wyatt. With a rare free day, instead of hiding in her room, she went out to the garden for some sun.

The Pavilion Hall garden was huge—big enough to play golf on the lawn.

There was a woven swing made of rattan set up in the sunniest part of the yard. Yunice settled into it, soaking up the light.

Not long after, Wyatt appeared. A few landscapers followed behind him, carrying tools.

It was early May—the perfect season to transplant trees and flowers.

Wyatt stood with one hand in his pocket as the gardeners explained their layout plan.

After they finished, one of them looked to Wyatt for input.

Wyatt didn’t answer. He just jerked his chin toward the swing.

“Ask her. She’s in charge of the house.”

Yunice was still a little dazed when the head gardener hurried over to her, full of enthusiasm.

“Ma’am, would you like to add any new flowers to the garden?”

He opened a catalog, filled with photos of blooming plants and elegant trees.