Rosa's voice echoed downstairs, "Mr. Austin, Mrs. Austin has prepared dinner for you. I'll go heat it up."

Initially, Bradley had intended to decline, insisting it wasn't necessary. However, upon hearing that Freya herself had cooked, he found himself inexplicably nodding.

Curious, he asked, "Where is Mrs. Austin?"

Frederick glanced upstairs and responded, "After finishing her meal, Mrs. Austin went upstairs. She went to the clinic today, bought various herbs, and spent the entire afternoon making aromatherapy oils. I presume she's tired."

Bradley's gaze hardened slightly. He knew she possessed medical knowledge, but he hadn't anticipated her expertise in making aromatherapy oils.

This revelation only deepened his curiosity about her. He yearned to uncover all her hidden secrets and truly understand her.

Rosa quickly reheated the dishes and placed them on the table one by one. The dishes were plentiful, but the portions were not overly large. There was no blueberry sauce yam but an additional bowl of fragrant soup on the table.

"This is the Yam Chicken Soup Mrs. Austin asked you to finish," Rosa informed as she served the dishes. She couldn't help but marvel at Freya's knowledge of medicine and her understanding of how Yam Chicken Soup could nourish the spleen and stomach.

Freya explained that Mr. Austin's weak spleen and stomach caused him to have a poor appetite and that he needed slow conditioning to improve.

After taking a sip of the soup earlier, Rosa felt a surge of energy, attributing it to the refreshing herbs.

Bradley lifted the soup bowl and hesitantly took a sip.

To his surprise, he tasted a distinctive and delightful flavor. Despite his usual dislike for yams, Freya's culinary skills always managed to mask their taste. The Yam Chicken Soup was so delicious that he finished it quickly.

Although he had already eaten dinner with Patrick and the others, the mere fact that the food was cooked by Freya compelled him to eat more, especially after enjoying the soup.

Each time he ate the food she cooked, he felt a sense of relaxation throughout his body, particularly the tension in his head slowly dissipating.

As Bradley gazed towards the kitchen, an image of Freya busily working in there appeared in his mind. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she would occasionally bite her lip as she sweated slightly from her efforts.

Moved by these thoughts, Bradley set his spoon down and pushed his wheelchair towards the elevator.

He ascended to the upper floor, and instead of heading to his own room, he went directly to Freya's. The sound of running water could be heard from inside the bathroom.

He realized that she was taking a shower.

The silhouette of a girl and the flowing water inside the bathroom through the foggy glass door were visible to Bradley. It sounded almost heavenly as the girl sang with a clear and melodious voice.

Bradley recalled the incident when she slipped and fell after seeing him come out of the shower. Her long, straight legs braced against the wall, and her hands delicately supported her body as she leaned back.

She could sing and dance with a tender and seductive body. Moreover, her body proportions were perfect. Every time he saw her, an uncontrollable desire and urge to possess her would arise within him.

Merely thinking about it caused Bradley to swallow deeply, and a warm sensation spread throughout his body.

He adjusted his collar and pushed his wheelchair back to his own room. However, just as he reached the door, his attention was drawn to a refreshing fragrance.

Gently pushing open the door, he discovered two scented candles placed on the bedside table.

Earlier, Frederick had mentioned how Freya had been working diligently on aromatherapy since her return from the clinic. She was already trying too hard, even personally cooking at night.

Bradley couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was her intention.

Bradley closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, immersing himself in the scent filling the room. A subtle lily fragrance permeated the air, causing his mood to instantly relax.

He pondered over the true identity of this girl. “Why was she attempting to get close to him, and what was her underlying motive?” he wondered.

Bradley left his wheelchair and walked quickly towards the huge floor-to-ceiling window. From there, he could see her graceful movements.

She was dressed in a pink nightgown that barely reached the base of her thighs. The wet strands of her recently washed hair cascaded over her shoulders, accentuating her alluring collarbone. Her face possessed both innocence and desire, radiating an unparalleled beauty.

Unbeknownst to Freya, the glass in the study had been custom-made to allow Bradley a clear view of everything within the house.

She sat in front of the bay window, blow-drying her hair and humming a tune.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open.

Bradley glided into the room on his wheelchair, wearing a loosely tied black bathrobe after just concluding his shower.

A vast expanse of honey-colored skin was revealed on his chest, as his hair, still damp, dripped with large droplets of water. He emitted a seductive allure that encompassed his entire being.

Freya nervously swallowed and averted her gaze, feeling slightly awkward in his presence.

Bradley's deep, husky voice urged, "Come help me dry my hair."

Freya exclaimed, "Oh", and set down the hairdryer, then walked quickly toward him. She snatched the towel out of Bradley's hand and used it to quickly drape it over his shoulders and head.

In the next moment, there was a gentle tightening sensation around her waist as Bradley pulled her onto his lap. Surprised, Freya gasped and immediately blushed. She was about to remove herself from the situation, but Bradley intervened before she could.

"You can take a seat. It's more comfortable," he suggested.

"No, there's no need to sit. I'm fine standing," Freya answered.

Blushing deeply, Freya sensed the potential danger of being seated on Bradley's lap. Though he was confined to a wheelchair and couldn't move his legs, he still exuded an aura of normalcy. The embarrassment of sitting on his lap was overwhelming for her.

"Frederick mentioned that you spent the day making aromatherapy and cooking at night. You must be tired and need rest while seated," Bradley defended himself.

Freya bit her lip, feeling exhausted. All she wanted was to go to bed and find solace instead of enduring this torment.

"I'm not tired," she said nervously, biting her lip. Under the warm yellow light, a thin film of sweat formed on the tip of her nose, making her more attractive.

As she sat on his knees, she looked both awkward and adorable.

Bradley found great pleasure in witnessing her in this reticent and tease-filled form, which was at once innocent and titillating to him.

Her fair, delicate face was bathed in a halo of light. Her lower eyelids were cast in shadow by her thick, long eyelashes, and her cheeks were red from nervousness.

With her petite face easily fitting into his palm, Bradley stared at her in silence, as if the world around him had faded away, and he could see only her silhouette.

This girl held an undeniable uniqueness. Despite concealing many secrets, she stood apart from other of her peers. Her purity resembled a sacred lotus's, making him hesitant to tarnish her innocence.

However, her choice to feign ignorance and deceive herself ignited anger within him.

Unaware of the intense scrutiny above her, Freya wholeheartedly assisted Bradley in drying his hair. Fatigue had engulfed her throughout the day, causing drowsiness to weigh heavily upon her eyelids, struggling to remain open.

Before long, her head grew heavier, causing it to tilt downward, and her hands weakened. Suddenly, the hairdryer changed direction, blowing directly into the neckline of her nightgown and causing it to flutter open.