Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

Who is this Miss Wilson?

The Fifth Young Master Foster sat alone in the courtyard, enjoying the moonlight, waiting for Cecilia Wilson to return.

Cecilia Wilson’s younger brother had returned from abroad after completing his studies, and today Cecilia was having dinner with her brother, saying she didn’t need his company.

The Fifth Young Master Foster brewed a pot of the finest Biluochun tea, and the housekeeper had prepared some exquisite candied fruits. The weather made it most comfortable to be in the courtyard, the large copper brazier no longer held any charcoal, only a small piece of top-quality sandalwood that, when lit, filled the entire courtyard with a calming aroma.

The ivory-colored long robe in the moonlight lent a touch of elegance to the Fifth Young Master Foster’s jade-like face, as he pinched a candied plum with his fingers and placed it on his tongue, transitioning from sweet to sour back to sweet, a multitude of flavors surged up at once.

Three years had passed, and to him, Cecilia Wilson was still like this candied plum, offering an indescribable feeling.

”Fifth Young Master, Miss Wilson was pushed outside and her foot is swollen...” The bodyguard, sweating profusely, quickly reported the incident.

They couldn’t bring themselves to carry Cecilia Wilson inside; logically, they should have carried her in and had the doctor take a look.

But who dared to lay hands on Cecilia Wilson?

As soon as the Fifth Young Master Foster heard, his face changed instantly, moving swiftly like a leopard traversing through the mountains, he leapt up from the chair with embroidered silk cushions and dashed out of the courtyard gate.

His movements were light and quick, the ivory-colored long robe remained absolutely still, his steps barely touching the dust-free slate path, reaching the corner of the alley in a flash.

The Fifth Young Master Foster reached Cecilia Wilson’s side, and the anxiety on his face instantly transformed into invisible tenderness as he softly asked, ”Where are you hurt?”

”Twisted my ankle, and here...” As the weather grew warmer, Cecilia Wilson was wearing a thin shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, and her elbow had scraped the floor, leaving a large area of skin exposed with red flesh.

”It’s okay, don’t be afraid...” The Fifth Young Master Foster said gently as he reached out and lifted Cecilia Wilson horizontally.

Blood trickling from her elbow stained the ivory long robe of the Fifth Young Master Foster, resembling a dazzling red plum blossom blooming on a field of snow, a shocking sight.

Cecilia Wilson didn’t struggle, his scent was clean and pleasant, and his strength was truly impressive.

As he walked carrying her, it was as if he were holding a bundle of soft cotton, so gentle that he didn’t even catch his breath.

Cecilia Wilson lowered her head, feeling clueless about the Fifth Young Master Foster, a man shrouded in too many secrets.

Rather than calling him a man, it would be more fitting to call him a boy, yet what kind of boy is he?

The Fifth Young Master Foster carried her back to her room, gently placing her on the bed, the housekeeper had already brought a basin of water, clean towels, and a delicate wooden box.

The Fifth Young Master Foster wrung the towel dry and wiped Cecilia Wilson’s slender hand clean, gently brushing off the tiny grains of sand from her elbow.

”Fifth Young Master, Dr. Clark is on his way.” The housekeeper guessed that the Fifth Young Master Foster would personally handle the wound, but Dr. Clark needed to check the swollen foot for any broken bones.

The Foster Family had medicine more effective than outside hospitals; though the scrape looked severe, like exposed red flesh, it was merely a superficial layer of skin. The medicine would heal it within a few days.

The Fifth Young Master Foster’s eyes, sparkling like black diamonds, were filled with heartache: ”Bear with it, it’s going to sting a bit...”

His heart trembled for a moment as he looked at the small red wound, almost reluctant to start treating it.

The housekeeper, standing aside, wanted to say the wound was minor but dared not speak up.

Such abrasions meant little in the Foster Family. If anyone had such a wound, they’d be embarrassed to mention they were hurt.

The servants had numerous gun wounds from which bullets were directly extracted, and knife cuts across their backs from shoulder to waist – what did those matter?

Yet the young master gazed at Cecilia Wilson’s wound, nearly shedding tears, truly pained.

”I’m not afraid, I’ve fallen worse before.” Cecilia Wilson said softly, noticing the Fifth Young Master’s hand tremble slightly; was he afraid of blood?

”Do you faint at the sight of blood? Otherwise, I can do it myself.” Seeing the Fifth Young Master’s demeanor, Cecilia Wilson thought he feared blood and wanted to spare him.

Afraid of blood?

This was the world’s greatest joke; the Fifth Young Master Foster merely had an aversion to filth, he’d never fear blood.