CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER 34: SPENDING MY HUSBAND’S MONEY

The moon shines brightly in the sparse starlight.

The old residence had already been decorated with festive joy, and the servants moved swiftly yet orderly as they made the final preparations for Old Madam Grant’s birthday banquet.

Eleanor Winslow escorted Old Madam Grant back to her room for a rest, and as she walked out, she suddenly stopped.

Wait, where was she going to sleep tonight?

"Third Young Madam, your pajamas were washed two days ago and are in the bathroom you share with Third Young Master," a servant said with a smile, seemingly reading Eleanor’s mind.

The bathroom you share with Third Young Master...

Did she have to speak so ambiguously?

"Are there any spare rooms? I’ve been a light sleeper lately and prefer to sleep alone." Eleanor asked the servant.

She felt that it was inappropriate for her and Adrian Grant to continue living together.

The servant looked at Eleanor with some difficulty, "The Old Madam specifically instructed before going to bed that there aren’t many rooms available tonight. You have to share one with Third Young Master."

"?"

What does ’not many rooms’ mean? Are the guests coming to the birthday celebration staying outside of the residence? There are so many empty rooms here.

Really? Do they have to meddle in this too?

The Old Madam looked quite elderly, usually amiable and easy to talk to, but she still knew how to keep an eye on things!

Eleanor and Adrian Grant’s room was on the third floor, a room Adrian had lived in since childhood. From the decor to the furniture, it was entirely Adrian’s style.

With a black, white, and gray color scheme, the room felt even colder and more indifferent without anyone there.

Adrian was still socializing with other uncles, and Eleanor, with an injury on her hand, took a long time to bathe, then went straight to bed to sleep.

In a drowsy haze, she sensed someone opening the door.

A moment later, the spot beside her sank slightly.

Eleanor slowly blinked her eyes open. Through the dim light from the bedside lamp, she saw the tall man sitting by the bed, Adrian Grant quietly looking down at her.

Instinctively, Eleanor frowned, closed her eyes again, and wanted to turn over to sleep in another direction.

Unexpectedly, the man’s large hand suddenly caressed her cheek, the searing heat waking Eleanor abruptly.

"What are you doing?"

Eleanor sat up in shock, retreating a step.

She recalled the night at the auction when Adrian had gotten drunk and sought her out to act foolishly.

"How much did you drink again?"

Eleanor cautiously asked, her bright almond eyes still wet from sleep, like a deer vulnerable in the forest, wary but unable to protect herself.

"I didn’t drink." Adrian denied.

He did have a bit, but not enough to get drunk.

Eleanor scrutinized his expression, seeing no signs of drunkenness, the emotions not overtly displayed. He might just be a bit more spirited than usual.

The next second, something was pressed into her palm, its edges a bit prickly.

It felt like a hard, small, rectangular piece of paper.

Eleanor looked down and saw Adrian’s black card sub-card.

"Allowance." Adrian explained.

Leaning against the headboard, Eleanor spun the card around her fingertips, the card’s edge reflecting a low-key opulence under the light.

"Adrian Grant, you know I used to be quite the spender. If I weren’t happy, I could easily run up nine figures for you in a day."

Indeed, she could. She was a regular for Dior’s haute couture at ten and bought jewelry in Paris like candy at thirteen—but that was on the premise that the money was rightfully hers to control, which she accepted.

Adrian’s money, however, was different.

"Mm." Adrian acknowledged.

Not hearing Eleanor speak, he leaned in to kiss her.

The warm kiss landed, and Eleanor instinctively shrunk back.

"Don’t move."

Adrian forcefully held her by the nape, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

This highly dependent gesture frequently led Eleanor over the past year to mistakenly believe they were intimate, just like countless couples who evolved from lovers to interdependent spouses.

Yet each time, this gesture marked the beginning of a passionate night.

The heated kiss, scented with potent alcohol, engulfed her lips, brimming with overpowering possessiveness and invasion, as if trying to devour and consume her entirely.

Eleanor suddenly spoke: "Adrian Grant, is this card your whore fee?"

The air’s temperature suddenly plummeted.

"I don’t need it." Eleanor handed the card back to him.

But when the man didn’t take it, she turned around and placed it on the bedside table.

In that turn, she was surprised to find a bouquet of Fire Spirit Bird roses by the bedside.

The vase was an antique she had auctioned off in London two years ago.

"...Where did the flowers come from?" Eleanor remembered there were none before she went to bed.

Adrian had already gotten out of bed, loosened his tie, his expression hidden in shadows.

His voice was faint, a bit weary: "Isn’t this your habit?"

Before he finished speaking, the man was already heading to the bathroom.

Eleanor was slightly stunned.

Did Adrian bring the flowers?

Indeed, she had a habit of placing fresh flowers in the bedroom because Adrian’s room was too cold and lifeless, so every return would find her buying a bouquet to place in the room.

She hadn’t expected Adrian to notice such a subtle habit of hers.

Eleanor felt a bit puzzled, hugging her knees, tilting her head to look at him: "Adrian Grant, you’ve been acting strange these past two days."

Like defending her.

Like the punishment of Aunt Grant’s family.

Like this bouquet of flowers.

The man had already reached the bathroom door, his shirt casually tossed aside, revealing a strong and muscular upper body, the sexy V-line disappearing into his waistband.

Upon hearing this, Adrian stopped in his tracks, turned around to look at her.

"Strange? Didn’t I give you allowance before?"

Adrian didn’t admit he was acting strange.

Indeed, because she mentioned divorce, he uncontrollably reacted, intertwining his life with Eleanor’s, highlighting his uniqueness as a husband.

The night of their wedding, Adrian handed over his sub-card, but the next day he left for the USA, and Eleanor put that card in the safe, returning it untouched when he eventually returned a year later.

He had given her allowance; it was she who hadn’t accepted it.

Adrian felt a bit agitated: "Isn’t it expected to give your wife allowance?"

Eleanor took a deep breath, sitting up straight, stubbornly looking at him.

"When a husband acknowledges his wife, then spending his money is like spending on behalf of her husband. If you don’t acknowledge me, how am I any different from a woman you casually support?"

"When did I not acknowledge you?"

The man’s voice rang out immediately.

With the last echo falling, silence prevailed.

The two stared across the distance of a few meters, falling into silent contemplation.

—When did I not acknowledge you?

Eleanor felt her eyes ache slightly, was it from staring at him too long?

Or was it from the dazzling light?