The Ceo’s Convict Wife by Jennifer Mike

Chapter 181

“Wait here for a moment while I go out to get some medicine,” Rosalie said to Jonathan. With those words, she

hurried out of the memorial hall.

Jonathan lay on the sofa and thought to himself, “Wait for a moment, she said?” He recalled a similar late evening

when she had Igone out to buy him medicine, uttering the very same promise.

“Well then, I will wait,” Jonathan reassured himself. He would wait for her to come back.

That very moment, Rosalie dashed toward the iron gate of the mansion. A streetlight by the gate cast a light upon

the deliveryman’s face, revealing a puzzled expression.

Clearly, the deliveryman had not anticipated delivering medicine to the manor of a prominent family at this late

hour.

“Did you the place the order, Ms. Leighton?” inquired the young man.

“Yes, it’s mine,” Rosalie answered. She took the medicine from the young man’s grasp, thanked him, and then

turned around to sprint toward the memorial hall.

The deliveryman scratched his head, casting a gaze upon the seemingly boundless manor before him, still trying to

catch his breath as he marveled at its grandeur.

Inside the security room of the Youngblood Residence, several guards stared at the surveillance screen in disbelief

as they watched Rosalie’s frantic sprint from the memorial hall to fetch medicine, and then her dash back.

“Unbelievable! She actually came out unscathed,” someone exclaimed.

“She had even ordered… takeout?” As the surveillance cameras could not provide a close-up view, they could only

see Rosalie receiving a package from the delivery guy.

“She has not been asked to leave by Mr. Youngblood, and she’s having takeout with him now?” the others gasped in

astonishment.

The security guards were aware that Jonathan had allowed Rosalie to stay at the Youngblood residence. They knew

that this woman held a special place in Jonathan’s heart.

However, the memorial hall was strictly restricted to access. Apart from the housekeepers, with decades of

experience serving the Youngblood family, only Jonathan and Leonard were allowed to enter.

Yet now, a woman had ventured inside.

Initially, when the security guards observed the woman entering the memorial hall through the surveillance

cameras, they made light-hearted comments, half expecting her to be promptly escorted out, perhaps banished

from the Youngblood residence by Jonathan himself the next day.

Yet, to their surprise, not only did this woman go in and stay for quite some time, but she also emerged only after

placing an

order for takeout.

It was simply astonishing.

At this moment, Rosalie remained oblivious to the newfound regard she had garnered among the security guards of

the Youngblood residence. She had only wanted to swiftly return to the memorial hall.

Returning to the memorial hall, she found Jonathan still curled up on the sofa, his eyes closed. His pale face, devoid

of any color, contrasted starkly with the crimson stain on his lips.

As she approached, she noticed a faint trace of blood on his lips, likely from him inadvertently biting them while

enduring the pain.

Sweat had also formed on his forehead.

Rosalie said, “Jonathan… The medicine is here. Take it now.” She spoke while pouring a glass of lukewarm water and

unwrapping the medicine, carefully following the instructions to retrieve the pills.

He slowly peeled open his eyes, fixing them upon her. Just as before, she had returned breathless like this. Even if

she feared him, resented him, or possibly even hated him, she could not bear to see him in pain, could she? The

thought offered some relief to the pain he was enduring.

Obediently, Jonathan parted his lips and swallowed the medicine Rosalie offered along with the water.

Subconsciously, her gaze lingered on his lips. There were visible bite marks on his lips. Jonathan must have been in

great pain to have bitten his lips in such a manner.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll think you’re trying to kiss me.” Jonathan’s voice broke the silence.

Rosalie snapped back to her senses, her cheeks flushing. “I was only checking your lips as they’re bitten. I didn’t

mean anything else.”

“It’s fine if you have other intentions. If you want to kiss me, I’ll be fine with it if it’s you,” he said, though he still

looked pale,

with beads of sweat on his forehead. However, his speech had considerably steadied and was no longer plagued by

the previous stammering.

Rosalie quickly averted her gaze, avoiding eye contact with Jonathan to prevent her face from turning even redder.

Her eyes shifted to the portrait of Jonathan’s late father on the table before her. The candle in front of the portrait

was still burning, but it was nearing its end.

“Should we keep the candle burning? It’s almost finished,” Rosalie asked. Typically, during a memorial, candles were

meant to burn continuously.

That night, judging by the arrangement with the lit candles and flower wreaths, it seemed like some form of

ceremony to honor the dead.

Upon hearing that, Jonathan attempted to stand up, but Rosalie quickly held his shoulder and said, “Don’t move. I’ll

take

care of it.”

With that, she walked to the table, picked up the candle, and ignited it. Holding the candle, she looked at the man in

the black-and-white portrait. She lowered her head and mourned earnestly before placing the lit candle in a

position of honor before the portrait.

A flicker of surprise appeared in Jonathan’s eyes. He stared at the person in front of him for a moment, feeling

somewhat bewildered.

He had not expected Rosalie to pay respects to his father. From Jonathan’s viewpoint, he could only see her in

profile, and though her expression was not entirely visible, he could sense the sincerity in her mourning.

He wondered if his father could see it, too. This was the woman Jonathan had fallen in love with, and he envisioned

a future where he would keep her close, ensuring she would never leave his side. He longed for her to rely on him

so completely that she could not imagine life without him.

He would never repeat his father’s mistake.

After lighting up the candle, Rosalie turned her head and unexpectedly met Jonathan’s gaze. A sudden

awkwardness enveloped her. Without much thought, she blurted out, “Um… Is this a picture of your mother?”

Instantly, regret washed over her as she realized the question’s weight. Over the days they had spent together,

Rosalie had learned that his mother was a topic he would avoid. Bringing it up now felt like tiptoeing on a fragile

ledge.

As she contemplated changing the subject, Jonathan promptly responded, “Yes.”

Rosalie was taken aback, not anticipating his willingness to answer.

“Do you think she was beautiful?” he suddenly asked.

Rosalie nodded. In fact, his mother was undeniably beautiful, the kind of beauty that left an indelible impression.

“Yes, she was truly beautiful. My father adored her immensely. He treated her words as if they were the law. He

went to great lengths to fulfill her every desire.” In a quiet voice, Jonathan continued, “However, one day, when the

man who had always catered to her wishes left home for her and could no longer provide her with the wealth and

luxuries she had grown accustomed to, she saw him as nothing more than a worthless man.