Chapter 32: Too Many Hidden Secrets

Chapter 32: Too Many Secrets Buried

Annette quickly lifted her bag before Julia could reach for it. "No need, I can carry it myself."

She didn't believe for a second that Julia was being helpful—she likely just wanted a peek at what she'd brought with her.

Julia wasn't pleased, but since Stuart was present, she kept up her smile. "Alright then. Go ahead and rest. You're still in Stuart's old room. See if there's anything you might need."

From the side, Frank Dawson added, "Make sure to turn on the light."

Annette followed Stuart out of the main room, stealing a glance at Carl as she passed. The greedy, lecherous glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

She sighed inwardly. What kind of family was this? It was almost a miracle Stuart hadn't turned out rotten, growing up here.

Stuart's room was on the far east side. It was tiny, barely five or six square meters. A simple heated brick bed covered with a coarse linen sheet filled most of the space. Two well-worn quilts lay side by side, and the walls were papered with old newspapers.

By the window sat a small three-drawer desk, completely bare.

It was clear Julia had hastily prepared the room. None of Stuart's old belongings remained. Likely, everything had been redistributed to the rest of the family.

Annette muttered under her breath, "You must not be their biological child."

Stuart, setting their bags on the desk, turned. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Annette replied quickly, flashing a half-smile. "Your mother is surprisingly warm, isn't she?"

Stuart didn't press. He looked over at the two quilts lying side by side and realized, now that Annette had returned with him, they'd be sharing this small space.

He hesitated, debating how to explain that she could stay in the room while he found somewhere else to sleep.

But Annette beat him to it. "Is there any hot water? Later, I need to check your wound. After a full day of travel, it might've reopened."

She had expected something like this. Since they were married, sharing a room was only natural. One quilt each—nothing to make a fuss about.

Besides, Stuart was still injured. What could happen?

She was more concerned with washing up and getting some rest. Her whole body felt like it had been shaken apart by the long journey.

And she needed to check on Stuart's wound.

Just as she finished speaking, Julia barged in carrying two old thermoses. "Boiled the water at dusk. You two wash up."

Her eyes flicked toward the bag on the desk before she laughed dryly and turned to leave. "I'll go grab you a washbasin and foot tub."

Stuart didn't get a word in. He followed Julia out to fetch a bucket of cold water, then intercepted her with the basins.

"No need to trouble yourself. We're good here. You should get some rest."

Julia couldn't read Stuart's expression and had no idea what he was thinking. That made her nervous. "You don't need to wake up early tomorrow. The work team is digging a new canal. Might get a bit noisy."

Stuart gave a quiet "Mhm" and returned inside.

Julia hurried back to her room, whispering anxiously to Frank Dawson, "Why do you think Stuart suddenly came back?"

Carl, leaning lazily against the heated bed, scoffed, "It's his house. What's the big deal? When he said he wasn't coming back for the wedding, I thought maybe his city wife looked down on our village. But now they're here. Isn't that a good thing?"

Julia shot him a glare. "You idiot. Did you forget about Laura?"

Carl paused, then mumbled, "But Stuart never said he liked Laura. And besides, you were the one who agreed to my idea."

Julia spat, "Shut up, you useless thing. She was practically thrown into your arms, and you still failed. If you'd just slept with her, she'd be your wife now."

Carl pouted, "How was I supposed to know she'd fight back so hard? What did she even see in Stuart anyway? He didn't want her either. Now she's damaged goods. I'd like to see who'd still marry her."

The truth was, Julia had always liked Laura. She was beautiful, well-behaved, and skilled with her hands. Her only family was a widowed mother, who was a hard worker herself.

Julia had hoped Laura would marry Carl, her youngest. With Laura's mother out of the picture someday, their house would fall right into Carl's lap.

Back when rumors started flying that Laura and Stuart were seeing each other, Julia had her doubts. But it was true that Stuart had often helped Laura and her mother with chores.

Carl had taken a liking to Laura, too, and Julia, always partial to her youngest, thought she could force the matter.

So she plotted.

She tried to have Carl "seal the deal" by force. If Laura lost her reputation, she wouldn't have any other choice.

But Laura fought back fiercely. She even tried to kill herself.

Terrified that the incident would blow up, Julia pleaded with Laura, even dropped to her knees, promising that if she stayed silent, she would personally ensure that Stuart married her.

Eventually, Laura relented. Julia quickly arranged a marriage for Carl with a girl from an even poorer mountain village, and the matter quieted down.

Three years ago, Stuart sent a telegram saying he'd been severely injured and needed someone to care for him.

Julia didn't want to leave—that would mean losing out on work points—so she sent Laura in her place.

Laura left that very afternoon and was gone for nearly a month. When she returned, the whole village assumed she and Stuart were as good as engaged.

A young woman caring for a man, alone and far away? Of course they'd end up married.

But three years passed, and nothing happened. Then, just a few months ago, word came that Stuart had married a girl from the city.

The villagers were outraged, calling Stuart a heartless betrayer.

But Julia knew the truth.

Laura never made it to Stuart. She had been ambushed by Carl and dragged into the cornfield. He'd assaulted her and left her half-dead.

Julia saw the whole thing with her own eyes.

Afterward, she dragged Laura to a hidden shack on the mountain and kept her there for half a month, coaxing and begging her to forgive Carl.

She promised that Stuart would marry her if she kept quiet.

No one ever found out. Laura, always quiet and reserved, never spoke a word of it.

But Julia lived in fear.

She feared Stuart would one day discover the truth.

Worse, she feared he might find out about his real parentage.

Especially since, two years ago, someone from the capital had come asking about him—someone very official-looking.