Chapter 2

Catherine felt a stirring in her heart. She rolled her eyes, continuing to play dumb: "What's the Smith family? Can they buy me lots and lots of candy?"

Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to her, her eyes lit up. Pointing at the silently weeping Elodie Brown, she announced loudly: "I'll go with you, but you have to give my grandma money! Lots and lots of money!"

This statement left Oliver and Clara stunned. They had anticipated Catherine's crying and resistance, but never expected their intellectually challenged daughter to suddenly make such a demand. This fool, when did she learn to ask for money?

Clara eyed Catherine suspiciously, trying to detect something in her expression. But the girl maintained her vacant look, her eyes empty, with glistening drool hanging from the corner of her mouth. Could it be a coincidence? Or had someone coached her?

Oliver, however, saw an opportunity—if they could get rid of her, spending some money was no big deal. He immediately grabbed the checkbook and pen from Clara's hand, scribbled a figure, and handed it to Elodie: "This is a small token of appreciation. You won't have to worry about Catherine anymore."

Elodie's cloudy eyes looked at Catherine, full of reluctance. She didn't take the check, just held Catherine's hand, too choked up to speak. Catherine snatched the check and stuffed it into Elodie's hand, grinning foolishly: "Now you have money! You can buy meat to eat!"

Clara watched this scene with growing suspicion, but right now, the priority was taking Catherine away. She urged impatiently, "Alright, alright, we've paid up. Now, hurry up and come with us!"

Catherine looked back at Elodie, the foolish smile on her face fading slightly for the first time, her eyes showing genuine emotion. "I'll come back to see you and bring lots of tasty food."

Elodie just nodded repeatedly, wiping her tears.

And so, Catherine was half-pushed, half-dragged into the car by Oliver and Clara. Throughout the journey, neither spouse spoke to Catherine, treating her like merchandise awaiting sale. Catherine leaned against the window, watching the scenery rush by, her mind racing.

'They're in such a hurry. This marriage must be problematic. The Smith family... who exactly are they trying to marry me off to? Is it Richard from the Smith family, who reportedly had an accident and became intellectually disabled? Or some incompetent person from a branch of the Smith family? Or perhaps the old family patriarch's second son, that man in his forties or fifties?'

Richard would be ideal. She remembered seeing him once from afar at a business banquet years ago. Back then, he was vibrant and confident, the golden boy everyone admired. Then suddenly, he became disabled and mentally challenged, supposedly incurable. Could he be pretending, just like her?

The car finally stopped in front of an impressive mansion. "We're here," Oliver said coldly, turning to Catherine with a warning look. "Remember, once we're inside, behave yourself. No more tricks, or you'll be finished!"

Catherine maintained her vacant expression, nodding repeatedly as drool dripped uncontrollably from her mouth. Oliver looked away in disgust and exited the car first. Clara followed, straightening her designer suit as if trying to completely dissociate herself from this "embarrassing" errand.

Catherine was helped out by a servant and looked up to survey the Smith Villa. The carved doorway and magnificent architecture showcased the Smith family's former glory. However, when she was led into the living room and saw the person in the wheelchair, she froze.

In the center of the living room, a young man sat quietly in a wheelchair. He kept his head down as sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, softening his pale profile. His fingers traced mindless circles on the wheelchair armrest. His lips curved in a childlike smile that seemed inappropriate for his age, and his eyes were vacant, remarkably similar to the expression she had been faking.

"Well, well, isn't this the intellectually challenged bride from the Spencer family?" a shrill female voice remarked with undisguised mockery. "I heard that her brain was damaged by a fever. How perfect—a match of equals!"

"Indeed! One in a wheelchair, one drooling—the Smith family is truly blessed this time!" another voice added, triggering suppressed laughter.

The surrounding comments pierced Catherine's ears like needles, but all her attention remained fixed on the man in the wheelchair. Catherine approached slowly, step by step, until she could clearly see his face. That face, despite its vacant expression and pallor, still revealed traces of once-handsome features. Only those eyes, once sharp as an eagle's, were now clouded with a hazy mist.

It's him! It really is him! Cedric! How could Richard be him?

Catherine's heart felt gripped by an invisible hand. Shock, disbelief, and a strange sense of absurdity churned within her. Coincidence? Or was there something more? She stood there, stunned, for the first time, forgetting even to pretend.

Catherine's world was spinning. She couldn't deny this man was extremely attractive—so attractive that she had once considered keeping him as a trophy boyfriend. But his foolish smile now seemed surreal, so surreal she could hardly believe he was Cedric.

The servants, noticing Richard seemingly wanting to approach Catherine, smiled maliciously and pushed his wheelchair toward her. Catherine carefully observed Richard before her. The legendary golden boy now sat in a wheelchair, wearing a simple-minded smile, his gaze unfocused, truly appearing intellectually disabled, his legs apparently impaired.

Catherine's eyes flickered slightly. She curved her brows and displayed an equally foolish smile, asking in a sweet, childish voice while tilting her head: "They all say you're stupid. Are you really stupid?"

Richard stiffened momentarily, then resumed his innocent demeanor, nodding vigorously and slurring: "Stupid... I'm the stupidest!"

He giggled and reached clumsily for a toy airplane nearby, almost falling from his wheelchair. To onlookers, this appeared to be two intellectually challenged individuals smiling at each other, competing for who was more simple-minded—quite a comical sight.

Catherine had been secretly observing him and caught this momentary change. Intrigued, she paused instead of immediately helping him. She stepped forward and softly probed, her tone genuinely puzzled: "But just now you didn't seem stupid at all?"

Her gaze swept over Richard's face like a feather, gentle yet impossible to ignore. Richard reacted like a startled cat, suddenly puffing his cheeks with childlike anger and displeasure, shouting: "You're the stupid one! I'm not playing with you anymore! You're bullying me!"

He turned away, clearly conveying, "I'm angry, comfort me." Catherine realized that pushing further would be counterproductive and might expose her. She immediately adopted a placating smile and gently shook Richard's arm: "Okay, okay, I was wrong. You're the smartest. Let's play together, don't be angry, alright?"

She softened her demeanor, adding a touch of sweetness to her voice. Richard seemed responsive to this approach; the anger on his face gradually dissipated. He pointed to several brand-new remote-controlled race cars in the corner, his eyes brightening: "Play with cars! I want the red one!"

"Sure, we'll play with the red one," Catherine agreed with a smile, pushing him over. Just as they were about to grab the controllers, a gloomy voice came from the doorway: "Cousin, playing alone is so boring. Why not play with me instead?"