Chapter 378

Hannah's gaze hardened in an instant, turning cold as ice."Vincent sees me as his wife. The mistress of this estate. Is there any part of this house I am not allowed to go to?"

Alfred's polished smnile flickered, slipping for the briefest second before he recovered. He bowed slightly, his voice calm but edged with firmness. "Please don't be upset, Mrs. Jones.These were Mr. Jones's direct instructions."

Her lips curved into a sharp, mocking smile. "And what if I insist on going into this study?"

She no longer spared the butler a glance. Her eyes fixed squarely on the study door.

"Please, Mrs. Jones. Don't put me in a difficult position," Alfred pleaded, urgency breaking through his composed tone.

But before he could say more, Hannah pivoted, hand pressing down on the cold brass door handle of the study.

Click. The lock gave way, and the study door swung open.

"Apologies," she said coolly. "But I'm going in today. And that's not up for debate."

"Mrs. Jones, please! You can't-" Alfred's face blanched, panic flashing across his features as he rushed forward.

But Hannah was quicker. She slipped inside. Bang! The door slammed shut, locking from the inside with a sharp twist.

"You can tell Vincent yourself." Her voice rang out from behind the wooden door, steely and unyielding.Inside, her eyes swept the study. The desk sat in perfect order,with only a handful of documents resting neatly on the surface.

Without hesitation, she pulled the drawers open. As expected,a black folder lay inside, stuffed with detailed records of private rehabilitation facilities. Names. Addresses. Descriptions.Everything was laid out in painstaking detail. Her mother had to be in one of them.

Her eyes raced across the pages, committing every crucial detail to memory. Then, just as swiftly, she slid the folder back into place and shut the drawer.

Outside, Alfred knocked frantically. "Mrs. Jones, please open the door. If you don't, we'll have to take strong measures."

He wasn't standing guard with bodyguards for nothing-he feared she might attempt an escape. If she caused any trouble,there would be no way to explain it to V/incent.

Hannah drew in a steadying breath, smoothing her expression as though nothing had happened. Grabbing a few technical books from the shelves, she tucked them into her arms. Then,without hesitation, she walked to the door and unlocked the door with a sharp click.

The door swung open.

Outside, Alfred's face had gone pale, a sheen of sweat beading on his temple. Noting that she hadn't taken long and was indeed holding a stack of books, he bit back his words. But later, he reported the entire incident to Vincent in painstaking detail.

Dinner that evening carried a heaviness-thick, strained, and quiet.

Vincent's voice broke the silence, calm yet deliberate. "You

Vincent's voice broke the silence, calm yet deliberate."You went into the study today?"

Hannah's fingers tightened imperceptibly around her fork.There it was-the question she'd been expecting. No matter.She had already rehearsed her answer.

Meeting his gaze without flinching, she spoke evenly. "Yes. I was looking for a few reference books."

Vincent's eyes lingered on her, narrowing just slightly."If you need something, you can ask the butler. He knows the study better than anyone."

At that, Hannah set her fork down with a sharp clink. Her head lifted, eyes flashing with indignation. "Vincent, let's get one thing straight. Am I your prisoner?"

His expression remained composed, but something faint flickered in his gaze. "No," he answered quietly.

"No?" Hannah pushed back her chair and shot to her feet, the scrape of wood against polished floor cutting harshly through the silence. "Then why does it feel like I am?" she demanded."In this house, I'm watched like a criminal. I can't even step into the study for a book without being stopped! The butler blocked me, and the guards followed me everywhere. I tried to read something useful for tending to some flowers, and I have to get your permissions first?"

Her voice wavered, trembling with emotion as her eyes reddened, the display raw yet carefuly controlled. "If that's how it is, you might as well just lock me back in that suite for good! Keep me there all day, every day. And when we have a child someday, I'll just raise it in those four walls-like a pet in a cage!"

The words hung in the air like a blade, and while her tone brimmed with outrage, she was watching-calculating-gauging his every flicker of reaction. She had to play it this way. This his every flicker of reaction. She had to play it this way. This moment was crucial. She couldn't let him grow suspicious.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode out of the dining room-head high, shoulders squared, not once glancing back.

Silence swallowed the dining room whole.

Vincent sat motionless, gaze fixed ahead, though beneath the calm, something turbulent rippled. Was she genuinely angry?Why such a fierce reaction? It almost seemed as though she genuinely felt this place was home.

And actually, he didn't care much for her docile compliance. It was this fire, this defiance, that made her feel alive. It reminded him of how things used to be, back when they were still husband and wife.