The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 17

The maid answered honestly, “It was Mrs. Althea Quigley’s instructions. She said the sandalwood incense must be lit every day, and as soon as one stick burns out, another should be started.”

“So, it can’t stop burning. Not even for a moment?”

The maid nodded. “Yes, that’s what Mrs. Quigley insisted.”

In an instant, Lindsay understood. A cold, knowing smile flickered across her lips. Suddenly, it all made sense—the reason she’d been sleeping so deeply since moving into this room.

No wonder Horace had told her to get rid of the incense. He must have suspected something all along, but he also knew he didn’t have her full trust yet.

There was no point saying anything more.

“Alright, I get it. Hand me the incense—I’ll take care of it myself from now on.” Lindsay paused, then asked, “Are you holding on to the rest of the incense?”

This maid was responsible for cleaning the entire fourth floor.

“Yes, I have all of it.”

“Good. You can get back to your chores.” Lindsay waved her hand dismissively, and the maid quietly retreated.

Lindsay freshened up before she left the room, but she was back soon after, arms full of incense sticks.

She handed them to Horace and instructed, “The maid who cleans the fourth floor has her room on the ground floor—the last door at the end of the hallway. Go there and swap out all her incense.”

Horace grinned. “So, you finally trust me?”

Lindsay shot him a glare and huffed, feigning annoyance. “You knew the incense was suspicious all along. You could’ve just told me, instead of letting me stumble around these past few days like a zombie, my brain barely working.”

Lindsay couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was bizarre. Whenever Horace massaged him, there was never the slightest response. But every time she did it, Yves would react. Could even someone in a coma tell whether it was a man or a woman touching them?

She turned around and locked the bedroom door before returning to Yves' side. She swore to herself this would be the last time she gave him a massage. Next time, Horace could handle it—she was tired of wearing out her hands.

It was a long while before Lindsay finally unlocked the bedroom door again. Horace had already finished the task.

“You didn’t get caught, did you?” Lindsay asked.

Horace replied, “Relax. If I couldn’t handle something this trivial without being found out, I’d have been out of this world a long time ago.”

“Oh? What’s that supposed to mean? What did you do before this, anyway?” Lindsay eyed him suspiciously. Horace was full of secrets. Sometimes she wondered if he’d taken this job as Yves' caregiver with some hidden agenda.

But then again, it seemed unlikely. She’d only decided to hire a caregiver on a whim after her rebirth. With so many agencies and so many candidates, what were the odds she’d pick Horace out of everyone?