Honey, You're a Billionaire?

The person who had spoken was the manor's gardener.

"The medical building? That place's quite a distance away from here. What would Lizzie be doing over there?" Cyrus wondered.

After exchanging strained smiles with the guests, he excused himself and hurried toward the medical building.

The night had already fallen, and though the path was lit with bright lamps, it was eerily empty as all the guests were gathered inside the main hall.

As Cyrus drew closer to the medical building, his heart pounded fiercely in his chest. An inexplicable sense of foreboding enveloped him.

Approaching the building, he spotted a familiar figure standing at the entrance.

"Mr. Cyrus," Carl greeted. His towering figure was clad in a black suit, and his expression was unreadable behind dark sunglasses. Even when standing still, his powerful frame radiated an air of preparedness.

Though there were many within the Azure Clan, Cyrus recognized Carl immediately. As the former head of the Finch family, he knew well who Carl was a man known for his efficiency, combat skills, discretion, and loyalty. Carl possessed many qualities Cyrus valued in a person.

However...

"Why aren't you overseeing the guest security in the main house? What are you doing here?" Cyrus asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Unperturbed, Carl responded, "Mrs. Finch was injured, so I brought her here "

But before Carl could finish, Cyrus had already rushed past him, disappearing into the medical building. His footsteps quickened as he frantically searched for Lizzie before he spotted a nurse carrying a medical kit. "Where's my wife? Is she okay? How badly is she hurt?" he questioned.

The nurse swiftly led him to Lizzie's location while Carl stood back, watching with an expression of cold detachment.

Lizzie had once confided in him that her husband was accustomed to putting on a facade. Indeed, Cyrus appeared deeply concerned for his wife when in public, yet yearned for another behind closed doors.

Lizzie had married Cyrus out of gratitude, but Carl was well aware of the suffering she had endured over the years. His heart ached for her, and it only steeled his resolve.

That night, he was determined to carry out his plan to give Lizzie the birthday gift she truly deserved.

"Since Cyrus has arrived, I'm guessing Ezra should be here as well." he mused.

Just as Carl was about to slip away discreetly, Cyrus' voice echoed from inside, laden with false tenderness.

"How could you be so careless? Does it hurt? Your neck is scratched... It seems this dress isn't suitable anymore."

Carl's heart skipped a beat, for he knew why Lizzie's neck bore scratch marks.

"It's nothing, really. It's just a small scratch. It doesn't hurt anymore. As for the dress..." Lizzie swiftly pulled off a decorative silk scarf from her wrist and tied it around her neck with practiced ease. "There, problem solved!" The scarf perfectly covered the mark on her neck. As for the origin of that mark...

Lizzie's eyes flicked toward the doorway, where Carl stood. "Thank you for bringing me here. I'm fine now."

Carl's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing back to their passionate encounter in the warehouse. A flicker of smugness crossed his eyes, barely concealed behind the sunglasses he wore. Thankfully, the shades hid his expression from Cyrus. With a slight bow to both Cyrus and Lizzie, Carl turned and made his way out. As he walked away, a satisfied smirk crept onto his lips.

The unspoken understanding between Carl and Lizzie had existed for years. No matter how intense their encounters were, Carl had always been careful not to leave obvious traces.

That day in the warehouse, he had maintained that same restraint, except for when he kissed her. In the heat of their passion, he had momentarily lost control, leaving a faint mark on her neck.

Though the mark was not deep, it stood out against her porcelain skin, particularly with the low neckline of her dress, making it impossible to conceal.

Even the necklace couldn't cover up the telltale sign of their intimate moment. If she appeared like that in public, the mark would be undeniable.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

As for a change of clothes or a strategically placed scarf, Lizzie knew it would not escape Cyrus' notice once bedtime came.

So, she had taken drastic action, gritting her teeth as she deliberately scratched over it with a tree branch. The resulting cut was small but effective, hiding the evidence of their encounter. Although the wound was minor, Carl's heart still ached for her.

"Lizz, I'm sorry," Cyrus lamented, his face filled with self-reproach. "I failed to get Ms. Flora from K&K to design a new dress for you."

Lizzie adored Ms. Flora's designs, and Cyrus had even approached the owner of K&K, hoping to secure her talents. However, his efforts had been met with the same response. "Ms. Flora is busy and has no time to take on new projects."

"Busy? How busy could a fashion designer really be?" Cyrus had wondered.

Even after revealing his identity, he had received the same answer. "Ms. Flora is busy."

Though disappointed about the dress, Lizzie didn't let it show in front of Cyrus. Instead, she offered him a reassuring smile.

"It's alright. I'll just wear the dress Ms. Flora designed for me before. I haven't had a chance to wear it anyway."

So, Lizzie arrived at the banquet in that same gown.

As soon as Cyrus escorted Lizzie

back into the hall, Rose immediately recognized the dress. She remembered when she had worked on that gown in Aquastead for a high-profile client from Regalia, never realizing that the mysterious client had been Lizzie.

"What a small world," she mused.

Eleanor, on the other hand, wasn't as pleased. She had noticed Lizzie's absence and was quick to express her dissatisfaction the moment they arrived. "Where on earth have you been? Everyone has been waiting for you. Hurry up and apologize."

Though Lizzie wasn't exactly the star of that day's event, the banquet was still under the guise of her birthday celebration.

Certain formalities had to be upheld, and Eleanor couldn't show her irritation too openly in front of the guests. Nonetheless, her tone was undeniably sharp.

Lizzie's expression hardened. "Apologize? To the guests? I'm the birthday girl! Is Eleanor even listening to herself?" she thought.

Even though she felt humiliated by the demand, she had no choice. Eleanor's words had left her cornered. With a forced smile, Lizzie complied.

"I'm sorry, everyone. I injured myself earlier and lost track of time."

Her words and apologetic demeanor instantly elicited a mix of sympathy and curiosity from the crowd.

"You're injured? What happened? Where did you get hurt?"

"Is it serious? How did it happen?"

Questions flew at Lizzie from

concerned guests, but Lizzie quickly waved off their worries. "It's nothing serious, just a small injury I had

treated at the medic conne

Thank you for your concern.

She touched the scarf around her neck, unafraid of revealing the injury's location, knowing they wouldn't guess the true cause.

Eleanor's face soured slightly. This party wasn't meant for Lizzie to showcase her injury and garner sympathy. Eleanor had bigger plans and was eager to move on.

"Since it's just a minor injury that's been treated, there shouldn't be any more problems. Thank you all for your concern for my daughter-in-law," she said, stepping forward with a wide smile.

She continued, "My daughter-in-law

truly is remarkable. When she was

younger, she was known for her talent in painting. But she excels most in calligraphy, having studied under the esteemed Mr. York"

To outsiders, it seemed Eleanor adored her daughter-in-law. Only Eleanor and Lizzie knew the truth-this flattery was just a set-up for what Eleanor had planned next.