Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Glancing at the first aid kit in her left arm bend and then at the fruit knife in her right hand, Flora closed her eyes. In her heart, she cursed herself. Was this decision so difficult? What was she afraid of? Did she still have feelings for him?

The last question stumped her. Feelings for him? How could that be possible? How could she possibly have any feelings for such a cruel person? She couldn't bring herself to do it, only fearing that she might be silenced by the members of the Smith Family!

Flora took a painful breath, but in the end, she couldn't drive the fruit knife into his heart. The knife slipped from her fingertips and fell onto the carpet. She quickly opened the first aid kit, took out an antiseptic solution, and began tending to his wounds.

The wounds weren't too severe, but there was a considerable amount of blood. Flora stopped the bleeding, applied the antiseptic solution, and clumsily bandaged the wounds. It was far from professional, but it would have to do.

After treating the wounds, she helped him out of his wet clothes and into a dry robe. Despite her attempts to move him to the bed, Flora failed several times and had to give up.

Sitting on the bed, she stared at him who was unconscious and unresponsive. She locked the door and dared not leave the room. She feared that someone might barge in and discover Maxwell's injuries, and on the other hand, she was afraid he might suddenly face complications during the night.

As the night grew deeper, Flora's eyelids grew heavier. Unable to resist the lure of sleep, she finally succumbed and fell asleep on the large bed.

The next day, as dawn broke, Maxwell woke up in discomfort, feeling all over sore and achy. What struck him as odd was when his bed at home became so hard.

Furrowing his brow, Maxwell squinted his eyes and finally figured out why his body was aching. It turned out that he had spent the night on the floor, while his large bed—was occupied by that damned woman!

Maxwell was almost infuriated enough to jump up, but when he moved, the wound on his forehead throbbed painfully. He raised his hand to touch the bandage on his head and glanced at the carpet, stained with blood and alcohol. Finally, he remembered what had happened.

The woman had viciously smashed a wine bottle over him last night, knocking him unconscious on the spot!

A surge of anger erupted from the depths of Maxwell's heart. Gritting his teeth, he reached out his long arm and grabbed one of Flora's bare feet, forcefully yanking her toward the floor. Flora's body went airborne and landed on the ground with a loud "thud."

"Ouch—!" Flora exclaimed in pain, instantly waking up. As she opened her eyes, she was met with Maxwell's furious expression, and a silent lament echoed in her heart. She struggled to get up from the floor, running her hand through her tangled hair. "You... aren't dead?"

Swearing on her conscience, she originally intended to say, "You're awake?"

However, when the words left her mouth, they somehow changed. It startled not only her but also the man with the already unpleasant expression, his face darkening even further. The anger seemed to gather on his face, ready to set the entire bedroom ablaze.

"Should I be dead?" Maxwell sat up, glowering at her, his words filled with bitterness and resentment.

Flora shook her head, holding her breath and refraining from saying a word. After all, she was the one who had harmed him first, and now that he had come back to life, it was his world again. A world where any misstep could lead to a miserable end.

"You seem to enjoy it, don't you? Taking over my bed and leaving me to sleep on the floor?" Maxwell, seeing her silent, continued indifferently. This woman was repeatedly provoking him, challenging him! She seemed to have a death wish!

Flora sat in the farthest corner from him, hastily explaining, "No... I originally wanted you to sleep on the bed, but... I couldn't drag you, and I didn't dare to ask someone for help..."

This reason was entirely truthful, but whether he would believe it or not remained uncertain.

"Come here!" Maxwell commanded her.

Flora shook her head in a hurry, "No... I was wrong. It wasn't intentional. You tried to force yourself on me first, and it's a natural reaction. You can't blame me!"

Oh God! Did she have a problem? Trying to reason about human nature with someone like him? Wasn't she acting like a fool?

"If you don't come over here, don't blame me for being unkind to you!" Maxwell further threatened. This woman's temper hadn't changed at all. She was still so ignorant and unwilling to yield.

Flora hugged her knees, burying her face between them, and uttered in a voice filled with regret and a desire to die, "I had the knife in my hand last night. Why did I hesitate? I should have given you two more stabs to send you to hell..."

Her voice was very low, but Maxwell still heard every word. He glanced at the fruit knife lying near the table. Taking a few steps forward, he grabbed her arm and lifted it.

"You...!"

The impulsive insult that was about to burst out of his mouth got stuck in his throat. Maxwell froze slightly, staring at her tear-streaked face, feeling a hint of softness. Did she regret not killing him yesterday? Yes, she could have killed him as revenge. It was a golden opportunity! And yet, she didn't act. Why?

A slight difference in a moment could indeed change a lifetime. Flora did regret not taking action yesterday. However, if time could turn back, would she have killed him? It was highly unlikely!

"Do you regret it?" Maxwell suppressed the undesired softness in his heart, coldly surveying her as he asked with a sneer.

"Yes," Flora nodded, wiping away the tears on her face, and stared at him with anger in her eyes.