Chapter 3 I'm Your Bride

Outside the kitchen, Eric Winters, the butler, was patrolling with several subordinates. Lo and behold, strange noises came from the kitchen as soon as they reached the living room. They hurriedly investigated it to find his employer lying unconsciously on the cold, hard floor. Shocked, Eric rushed over to the man at once. "What's going on? What happened to Mr. Patrick?!" Mr. Patrick? Huh, to think the man I saved last night happened to be Patrick, the short-lived Willoughby! Wendy wore an unruffled expression on her face as she took a big bite of her bread, savoring the taste of wheat on her tongue. Soon, she felt the emptiness in her stomach being partially filled. "I don't know. Maybe he passed out from starvation," she said before walking out of the kitchen, heading back upstairs. Eric gazed blankly at the slender figure but couldn't care for anything else at the moment as he quickly beckoned at the several subordinates, saying, "Quick! Take Mr. Patrick back to his room." In the second-floor bedroom, Patrick sank deep into the white sheets, and his chestnut-colored tousled hair rested on his thick, dark eyebrows. Even in his sleep, the man remained outrageously handsome. In a daze, the familiar scent of medicine once again filled his nostrils. Meanwhile, a notification sounded by the bed. Wendy glanced at the screen to find a text message from Nightshade. 'Miss Clark, there will be an auction for the medical canon tomorrow evening at the downtown exhibition hall. Will you be going?' 'Of course!' She swiftly typed out the response and sent it. After putting her phone away, Wendy propped her chin up and gazed curiously at the man on the bed. You have to admit that he's pretty good-looking. Too bad he's lacking in the health department, though. Just as she was captivated, the man suddenly opened his eyes. Their eyes met, and his alert gaze locked onto Wendy's innocent face. "Who are you? How dare you enter my bedroom?!" Patrick squinted his long, piercing eyes, his voice bone-chilling. Wendy quirked a brow in response and answered matter-of-factly, "I'm your bride, of course." My bride? Patrick frowned with displeasure. Huh, so it's her. A woman who can sell herself away to resolve a company crisis. "Get out." His voice clearly conveyed his annoyance. "You're not allowed to set foot in this bedroom anymore." At that, he felt his sore neck. He vaguely remembered someone stabbing his neck with a needle in the kitchen last night, causing him to pass out. It must've been this damn woman! However, Wendy remained unmoving, looking puzzled. "Where am I supposed to sleep, then?" "There's a servant's room downstairs," replied Patrick with zero patience. "Oh, okay," Wendy answered benignly, her fair and delicate face showing no signs of unhappiness as she got up and grabbed her little luggage, heading out without even looking back. She didn't care about marrying him anyway, so it didn't matter which room she lived in. After all, having a roof over her head was always better than having none. "Wait," Patrick called out to her almost involuntarily as the lingering scent of herbal medicine around his nose reminded him of the girl who had saved him last night. Wendy stopped in her tracks but couldn't be bothered to turn around and look at him. "Did you save a man last night?" Wendy was taken aback. Does he know it was me? That said, she recovered very quickly from her stupefaction. She hadn't forgotten her grandmother's admonition, which was to never reveal her medical knowledge to anyone. "No, you've been mistaken. I don't do charity, so why would I save someone?" Patrick furrowed his brows upon hearing her blunt denial, and a hint of nervousness flashed across his head, leaving only restlessness shimmering in his raven-black eyes. "Get lost, then." At that, Wendy snorted impassively and dragged her suitcase out of the room. Well, how pragmatic of him. Then again, he seems very different from the rumored ill-tempered and short-lived guy. She had checked his pulse earlier, and it indicated a strong vitality. Apart from some energy depletion due to last night's injury, he was completely fine. Huh, it looks like Libby miscalculated this time after plotting for so many years. I wonder how they'll react if they find out their precious Ceryl has missed out on such a wealthy and attractive man. This is getting fun…