The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 11

An hour later, Lindsay collapsed on her bed, muttering curses under her breath.

Meanwhile, the tension in Yves' face seemed to have eased, the angry veins on his forehead fading as a subtle, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips.

…

At three in the afternoon, Lindsay arrived at the domestic services agency.

The manager handed her a copy of the employment agreement. “Here’s the contract. Take a look and sign when you’re ready.”

Lindsay read it carefully. Even if it was just a simple employment contract, it was always wise to go through the details.

Once she made sure everything was in order, she signed her name.

“The caregiver is here at the office, right?” Lindsay asked.

The manager nodded. “Yes, he’s ready to go home with you whenever you are.”

“Great. Let’s go now, then.” Lindsay didn’t want to be away from Yves for too long—especially after what had happened with Althea that morning.

The manager led the caregiver out to meet her. “This is your employer, Ms. Nelson,” he introduced.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Nelson. I’m Horace.” The young man gave her a bright, friendly smile and extended his hand.

Lindsay looked him over with a skeptical frown. Jet-black hair, striking features, pale skin—he looked more like a puppyish college kid than a seasoned caregiver.

He seemed much younger than his profile photo; twenty-three was a stretch—he barely looked old enough to vote.

Could someone who looked this fresh-faced really cook well and handle a fight? Or was she going to end up protecting him?

She couldn’t help but question his age. “Let me see your ID,” she said, reaching for it.

Horace was briefly taken aback, but then fished out his wallet and handed over his ID.

Not long after, Daniel hurried in. “Mr. Quigley, there’s trouble—Mrs. Helen Quigley’s people got into a fight with Ms. Nelson’s.”

Mr. Quigley raised an eyebrow. “A fight, huh? Who won?”

Daniel hesitated. Was that really the right question right now?

“It seems Ms. Nelson’s man was stronger. He may look young, but he’s got a mean streak—every move was brutal.”

“Interesting. I’ll go have a look.” Mr. Quigley couldn’t hide his anticipation as he made his way to the back garden.

When he arrived, Mrs. Helen Quigley’s bodyguards were sprawled all over the ground, groaning in defeat. The young man—Horace—stood above them, drenched in sweat, his eyes burning crimson, watching Helen like a wolf stalking its prey.

Helen’s face had gone ghostly pale. She instinctively backed away, her gaze flickering with fear.

Just half an hour earlier, Lindsay had brought Horace to confront her about the rumors—about bringing a man to live on the fourth floor and allegedly cheating on Yves. Helen had underestimated Lindsay, and with eight bodyguards at her side, she’d felt confident.