CWMBR 105

Chapter 105

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Bridget glanced at Ain's wrist with a suspicious look before quickly averting her gaze. She didn't have the enthusiasm to insist on taking him to the doctor, especially since he claimed he was fine.

He knew better than anyone how precious his health was; if there was a problem, he'd seek out his primary care physician himself.

"What brings you here?"

"Are you moving or something?"

Instead of answering Bridget’s question, Ain glanced at the overturned chair and countered. At that, Bridget replied in a stiff tone.

"It's none of your concern."

Meanwhile, Wayna, who had been peering downstairs curiously, crept closer to Bridget. She scanned Ain with wary eyes before pressing close to Bridget and whispering urgently.

"Ma'am. Is there anything I can do? If so, wave your handkerchief. Or hold your index finger like this, like this."

Bridget smiled faintly at Weyna, who twisted her body out of Ain's sight to eagerly signal the hand gesture.

"It's fine, Wayna."

Ain stared at the newly arrived unfamiliar face with a wary gaze. Yet, seeing her remain silent, it seemed she was waiting for him to introduce himself first.

Ignoring Ain's gaze, Bridget spoke kindly to Wayna.

"This is the man who will soon be my ex-husband."

As Bridget fell silent after that statement, Ain frowned and interjected.

"Not ex-husband, just husband—Ain Wise. And you?"

Wayna, her eyes wide, scanned Ain again before covering her mouth and muttering softly.

"Oh, ah, that trash I saw in the newspaper…."

"What?"

Ain frowned at the muttering, which was far too loud to be considered a private thought. Wayna quickly stammered an apology and offered a proper greeting.

"No. My apologies. I am Wayna Adild, who will be taking charge of the Lady’s protection from now on."

Ain narrowed his eyes.

"Protection?"

"She was newly hired. Mr. Gilum will be leaving soon."

It was an explanation meant to carry a warning: treat this formally hired person with respect. Whether Ain understood Bridget's intent was unclear, but instead of finding fault, he scanned Wayna with his eyes.

Then, as if struck by a thought, he relaxed his expression and said bluntly.

"Good choice."

Seeing the satisfaction seep into his blue eyes, Bridget wore a slightly sour expression. She couldn't fathom why he liked that, given he'd requested protection. But she didn't press the question. She knew he'd just spout more nonsense.

Instead, Bridget went straight to the point.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I have something to tell you. But you seem busy."

Ain's gaze shifted toward the second-floor balcony. Several small pieces of furniture, pushed aside toward the hallway, were faintly visible from below.

Bridget instinctively followed his gaze to the upper floor and replied in a curt tone.

"I can spare a moment, so just say what you need to and leave..."

But Ain casually brushed off Bridget's words and turned around.

"Iliont."

"Yes?"

A man who had been peering inside from beyond the open front door answered the call.

"Aren't there workers I called nearby?"

"Workers...?"

"Tell them to come this way."

"Ain."

Bridget finally called out to him irritably, clearly annoyed that he was ignoring her. Only then did Ain turn to face her, explaining in a flat voice.

"Since I contributed to your poor health during our marriage, I'm helping as compensation."

Bridget, looking utterly flabbergasted, was about to scold him when Wayna quietly approached again and whispered.

"Leave him be. Since it's come to this, might as well make cleaning the house easier, right?"

Bridget paused at those words. Since the person who had to carry the luggage said so, it was hard for Bridget to just flat-out refuse. In the end, she reluctantly nodded.

The workers Ain had called arrived in less than 30 minutes. As they began bringing out the luggage in earnest, the room emptied quickly.

Wayna and Jane, gathered near the stairs watching the workers come and go, murmured in admiration.

"It definitely seems better to have strong men around the house."

"You're telling me. Wow. Look at him lifting that thing alone—the stuff Gilum and I were going to carry together."

"Are you dissing me right now?"

"Don't get discouraged, Gilum. You've got brains instead."

Listening to their chatter, it seemed like a good thing they weren't being exploited after all. Bridget, who had been standing with her arms crossed, watching the situation with a half-worried look, called out to a worker just coming down the stairs with a load.

"Hold on, give me that pillow over there."

Taking the pillow from the worker, Bridget cut open a corner with a knife. She reached inside and felt around, but all she could touch was fluffy cotton.

"Whose was this?"

"My uncle's."

"Looking for something?"

The worker took the pillow back to dispose of it. Bridget stared at him blankly before turning away indifferently.

"………I'm just checking if there's anything. They say my uncle's whereabouts are unknown."

Bridget had come upstairs to check the room. The empty room contained only dust and scattered trash; nothing particularly suspicious was visible. Since she had already checked the insides of all the furniture before moving it, nothing new was found. 

Bridget tore down the gaudy lace curtains, completely unlike her taste. Just as she was about to roll up the fluttering piece of fabric, Ain, who had quickly approached, casually spoke up.

"About that uncle of yours... still feel sentimental?"

"Why?"

She asked back, seemingly indifferent, and started to leave the room when Ain's voice reached her from behind.

"A doctor from Altinbir Mental Hospital issued the initial death certificate for the Penningtons."

Bridget, who had been half-listening to Ain, stopped abruptly.

"A psychiatrist can't issue a death certificate. I don't know if you're aware."

Bridget blinked rapidly and turned to Ain. Ain handed her a piece of paper. It was a death certificate.

"Magnus verified the death certificate. There were no issues at the time, and..."

"Then they could have swapped the name later. After getting the procedure started first. It's not impossible if you offer the right amount."

Looking down at the paper Ain handed her, Bridget recalled her parents’ death certificate carefully stored in her room.

Honestly, she couldn't remember the doctor's name written on it.

When she received the death certificate, Bridget was in a complete daze. She had just seen her parents' bodies herself.

It had been an accident where the carriage veered off the road and tumbled down a steep slope. The coachman, of course, and the Penningtons riding in the carriage had all died instantly. It was clearly an accident. Anyone who saw it would have to conclude that. Bridget had gone to the accident site herself and confirmed the broken carriage wheels and wreckage, the blood and torn clothing scattered everywhere.

The state of the bodies was beyond description. Twisted limbs and protruding bones were the least of it; her father had been flung from the carriage, torn apart by rocks and trees, leaving him in an even more horrific state. How could anyone remain sane after seeing such a sight?

Bridget couldn't shake the image of that corpse for the entire year. Her condition improved slightly once she started helping out wherever needed at the Grand Theater, but she couldn't stop the occasional nightmares. It took years before she could barely manage daily life again. Even then, it was more that her mind was preoccupied with other problems than that she had truly recovered.

But now there might be a problem with the death certificate?

And it was connected to Altinbir Mental Hospital, of all places. The very place Ronan tried to have Bridget committed to.

"There's usually only one reason to forge documents. Because there's something they want to hide."

…………Her parents had been on their way back to Glynford after visiting Ronan, as always, when they were in an accident.

Looking at Bridget's face, which had turned pale, Ain said in a low voice. Bridget couldn't tear her eyes away from the paper in her hand.

"Thank you for telling me."

Her hand tightened, crumpling the paper. Bridget tried desperately to maintain her composure, but she couldn't stop her tightly clenched fists from trembling. Unable to bear the sight of her standing there, her face drained of color as if she might faint at any moment, Ain gently called out to Bridget.

"Bridget."

"But how did you find out about this?"

Bridget, who had been suppressing her rising emotions, suddenly looked at Ain and asked. Ain answered reflexively.

"I found out while looking into it because it's been causing a stir in the capital lately. Turns out that mental hospital is a place with a lot of problems."

Ain spoke as if he had just happened to overhear others talking about it, paused briefly, then added.

"I didn't go out of my way to find out."

Of course, it was true that Ain had used a few tricks to shut down that hospital, but if there hadn't been any problems, it would have passed without incident. How could it be his fault that all sorts of wrongdoings were exposed because there were so many issues?

Reasoning it away like that, Ain drove the point home.

"It just happened."