The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 176

“Then call me when you actually believe I’m capable of this.”

Althea listened to the cold, rhythmic beeps of the disconnected line. Irritated, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. “Unbelievable. Who does she think she is, hanging up on me? She should consider herself lucky I even bother with her.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

In a dark, cluttered basement, shelves overflowed with jars and containers, each one crawling with strange, colorful insects. Some of them gave off a sickly, putrid stench.

Alexia wore a respirator mask and latex gloves as she carefully reached into one jar and withdrew a shimmering purple caterpillar. She dropped it into another container, this one teeming with scorpions.

The moment the caterpillar landed, the scorpions attacked, tearing it apart in seconds. As they devoured it, the scorpions visibly grew larger—almost swelling right before her eyes.

A satisfied smile tugged at Alexia’s lips. She selected more insects, feeding them to the scorpions in turn, her movements practiced and precise.

Only after several rounds did she finally leave the basement.

Emerging upstairs, she headed straight for the shower, desperate to wash off the foul, metallic smell clinging to her skin and hair.

By the time she finished, Bertha had arrived.

Alexia barely glanced her way before returning her attention to her own thoughts, her tone flat and indifferent. “You’re here.”

“That’s right. I brought you a late-night snack,” Bertha said, handing over a thermos.

Alexia took it from her with a curt nod, then set it aside without a word. She sank into an armchair, pulled out a slim cigarette, and lit it, the smoke curling in lazy rings around her face, casting her features in a hazy blur.

“Is there something else?” Alexia exhaled a plume of smoke and fixed Bertha with a steady gaze.

Bertha sat down beside her, voice gentle and careful. “Alexia, you really should cut back on the cigarettes. They’re not good for your health.”

Alexia ignored her concern, finding her persistence nothing short of exhausting.

“If you keep nagging, I’ll move out.”

“No, please! I won’t say another word. The school dorms can’t compare to this place!”

“And from now on, don’t come over without my permission,” Alexia said pointedly.

It was a blatant declaration of territory—never mind that the villa was, in fact, Bertha’s property. Hearing Alexia call it “my house” stung more than Bertha cared to admit.

Bertha’s heart tightened, and her voice took on a pleading note. “Alexia, do you have to treat me like this? It really hurts.”

“And what about you?” Alexia shot back with a bitter smile, her eyes filled with contempt. “All the things you’ve done for wealth and privilege—how did you treat me?”