CHAPTER 273: MY HUSBAND’S EYES WERE ALWAYS WATCHING ME

No matter how strong Primrose’s curiosity was about the contents of Edmund’s bad diary, she decided to bring up something more important, something she never expected to ask.

How on earth did Edmund know about all the bad things she’d done behind his back? He never even thought about those things, not once had she seen him suspect her in his mind.

"I don’t understand," Primrose finally asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "How did you know? About Leah? About my fake heart condition?"

Edmund’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Just so you know, my dear wife, I have eyes and ears all over this palace," he said, deepening his gaze. "It’s really not that hard for me to know what’s going on behind my back."

"As for Leah’s case ..."

Edmund went on to explain that he had once ordered a soldier to investigate and interrogate Leah thoroughly.

That’s how he found out Leah had been spreading false rumors about Primrose, and sometimes even insulting her appearance in public.

Primrose clenched her jaw. "That explains a lot, but ..." she hesitated, voice quiet now, "it still doesn’t explain how you knew I was the one who asked Leah to go to your room."

That part made absolutely no sense.

Primrose had always made sure no one could overhear them whenever she told Leah that she was the type of woman Edmund might like.

She was confident she’d been careful. She was sure she had been inside her own chambers when she indirectly planted the idea in Leah’s head to accompany her husband that night.

"I’m sorry, my wife," Edmund murmured, looking away with visible guilt. His voice dropped so low she almost didn’t hear him. "But ... Bunnie isn’t my first spy doll."

Primrose blinked. "What ...?"

"I-I actually placed quite a few spy devices in your room, especially in your old bedroom."

Primrose’s eyes widened as the words sank in. "YOU WHAT?!" she shouted so loudly that Edmund squinted. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and yelled again, "How many spying devices did you put in my room?!"

Edmund didn’t dare blink, nor did he break eye contact as he faced his wife’s fury. "P-please don’t be mad," he said carefully. "M-maybe ... maybe around twenty?"

"TWENTY?!" Primrose yanked his collar again. Now he was close enough to hear her rage echo in both ears. "YOU PUT TWENTY SPYING DEVICES IN MY ROOM?!"

"That’s ... that’s the number I remember," Edmund mumbled.

Primrose stared at him in horror. If that’s just the number he remembers ... how many did he forget?!

Honestly, she didn’t really have the right to be angry because she had been reading Edmund’s thoughts all the time and even using that knowledge for her own advantage.

But the difference was ... Primrose could only hear Edmund’s thoughts when he was nearby.

Meanwhile, Edmund had been watching and listening to her at all times without exception.

Primrose suddenly froze as that realization hit her. If Edmund had planted so many spying devices in her room from the start, then that meant ... He must have seen her when she was trying to please herself.

Not just once, but many times?!

Especially that one night, right after he marked her and left her alone, she had spent hours touching herself.

She had no idea what kind of spying devices Edmund had used, but if he placed them on top of her bed and even beside it, that meant ... He could’ve seen her pleasing herself from multiple angles!

But wait. Wasn’t it the next day that he wondered in his thoughts whether she had slept well or not?

If Edmund really had the ability to watch her anytime, shouldn’t he have known whether she was sleeping peacefully or not?

Could it be that he was mocking her at that moment?

But no. That didn’t feel like him.

Even in his most annoying moments, Primrose couldn’t imagine Edmund ever thinking something cruel about her, not even in his mind.

Primrose let out a tired sigh. There was only one way to find out: she had to ask him directly.

"So, Edmund," she began seriously, her voice calm but steady, "do you remember the night you marked me?"

Edmund nodded slowly. "Yes."

Primrose hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been swirling in her mind. "Did you ... start watching me from that night onward?"

They’d already seen each other naked more times than she could count, but this was different.

Being seen while touching herself—especially when she thought she was alone—was a whole new level of shame.

It was humiliating!

She wouldn’t even be able to do something like that in front of him if he asked, let alone if he had watched her without her knowing.

"Ah ... that night?" Edmund looked a little flustered, his gaze flickering away for a second. "I ... I couldn’t really focus on anything else back then."

[My boner was out of control. How was I supposed to notice anything when I couldn’t even think straight?]

[But honestly ... now I’m kind of curious. What was she doing? Was she touching herself too? With her tiny little fingers? Maybe she teased her nippl—]

"What about my fake heart disease?" Primrose blurted suddenly, snapping him out of his internal spiral before he could say something embarrassing.

She changed the subject in a panic. "I ... I thought my acting was pretty convincing."

"It was very convincing," Edmund admitted. "I was genuinely terrified I might give you a heart attack just by raising my voice. But last night, I actually asked Sir Vesper about it."

Primrose blinked. "You did?"

Edmund nodded. "After I came back to the palace, I went straight to Sir Vesper. You didn’t notice because you were still asleep. I just ... I needed to be sure. I asked him if your current condition could make your heart disease worse."

Salem, who had no idea that Primrose had faked her condition, replied casually, "Heart disease? Your Majesty, your wife doesn’t have a heart condition. You can yell at her as loud as you want, and she’s not going to die from that."

Primrose winced, biting her bottom lip as she looked at Edmund with guilt. "I’m sorry ... I—"

"That’s fine," Edmund gently cut her off, stroking her cheek with the softest touch. "I understand why you did it. I used to shout a lot. Honestly, I still do. If you hadn’t lied to me, I probably never would’ve tried to speak more gently to you."

He lowered his gaze for a moment. "It was my fault too," he said softly. "I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to lie to me."

Primrose stared at him, completely speechless.

She was the one who had lied.

She had faked a serious illness just to manipulate his behavior, and yet here he was ... apologizing to her.

How did that make sense?

How was it fair?

"Because of that fake illness," Edmund said, as if reading her thoughts, "I learned to speak more gently to you."

He smiled reassuringly, silently telling her she hadn’t done anything wrong. "So honestly ... I’m glad you lied."

Primrose clutched the front of his shirt, leaning closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But now that you know I made it all up ... you don’t have to hold back anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of yelling at me."

She looked away. "Like Sir Vesper said, even if you screamed at me, I’d be fine."

"Why would I ever want to shout at you?" Edmund whispered, gently tucking a strand of her crimson hair behind her ear. His eyes held nothing but softness.

"Back then, I yelled a lot because ... well, we beasts are used to raising our voices when we talk to one another. It’s just our way. But after spending time with your father—when I brought him here—I learned something."

He paused, his voice filled with emotion. "He told me... that you always got really sad whenever someone shouted at you."

Edmund looked at her gently. "That’s why, even if you don’t have a heart condition, I still don’t want to raise my voice at you, and if I ever do it by accident... you can just slap me."

Primrose’s expression softened, her eyes reflecting something tender. "Why?"

Edmund smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "Because I don’t want you to be sad," he said quietly. "Not even by mistake, not because of me."

Something about the way he said it—so genuine, so simple—made her chest ache. Not with pain, but with warmth. The kind of warmth that only came when someone truly saw you, even the broken parts.

"You’re not supposed to say things like that," she whispered, blinking fast.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me want to cry again."

The atmosphere around them felt so soft, so warm, that Primrose almost didn’t want to ruin it. But no matter how much she wished to preserve the moment, she knew she couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room.

"I need to ask you something," Primrose said gently, her voice careful. "Last night ... when you left me with Sir Vesper and Lady Raven ... Bunnie was on my bed."