How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

Stuart's room in Hetfield's Homestead had always been preserved, but now it looked no different from a guest room, stripped of anything personally important to him. Yet, as he stared at the soft pink hues decorating the room, he couldn't help but pause in momentary bewilderment.

Turning to Morwenna, who followed him in, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did you get Grandpa to do this?"

Before Morwenna could respond, Norbert approached and interjected, "Actually, I took the liberty of arranging this. This is your new room. If you're not satisfied, feel free to choose another."

Norbert was clearly displeased with Stuart. Although Morwenna was somewhat forced upon Stuart by him, she was a wonderful girl, and in Norbert's view, Stuart should at least not mistreat her.

Had this been any other time, Stuart would have simply walked away, never keen on returning to Hetfield's Homestead. But today, he surprisingly replied, "I’m quite pleased, actually."

With that, he pulled Morwenna into the room.

Norbert tried to follow, but Stuart quickly shut the door behind them and locked it.

Outside, Norbert’s eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline in surprise. He had just heard what sounded like satisfaction from Stuart, and saw him holding Wenna’s hand. Was Stuart in a good mood today?

Curious, Norbert pressed his ear against the door, trying to catch snippets of the conversation inside. Unfortunately, the soundproofing was too effective, and he couldn't hear a thing. Frustrated, he muttered, "I'll replace this door tomorrow." Despite his words, a slight chuckle escaped him. He had told Wenna that divorce was an option if things got unbearable, but deep down, he hoped they would manage to live well together. It seemed there might still be hope.

Inside the room, Stuart sat on a pastel yellow sofa—an odd sight, a burly man against the delicate furniture.

Morwenna frowned slightly. "Stuart, why did you pull me in here? If you're going to bring up my past again, I won’t be so forgiving," she warned. She was ready to set him straight if he crossed the line again.

"Morwenna," Stuart began, causing her expression to freeze momentarily. Every time he said her name like that, she felt a bit on edge.

She stepped back, wary. "What is it now?" She remembered her friends back in the village warning her about men’s promises, saying they were not to be trusted at all.

Now, she believed those words. Men were untrustworthy.

She feared Stuart was about to spout more pretentious affection, which she found fake and didn’t want to hear.

Instead, Stuart simply looked into her eyes and said, "I think the wound on my back might be infected. Could you take a look?"

Morwenna’s expression changed immediately. "What? Didn’t Fletcher treat it last night?"

She had specifically asked Fletcher to check on Stuart’s wounds. If there was an infection, Fletcher should have informed her.

Without saying another word, Stuart turned around and took off his shirt, exposing the stained and bloodied white bandages that wrapped his back—a shocking sight.

Alarm raised in her voice, she exclaimed, "You mean the bandages got wet after you fell into the water yesterday and weren’t changed? Didn’t Fletcher change them last night?"This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

"No," Stuart answered flatly, unflinchingly honest.

Though Fletcher had visited, he hadn’t changed the dressings. Technically, Stuart wasn’t lying.