Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 959

Helen showed no sympathy as she finished treating Otto's wounds. While applying the final bandage, she noticed Otto smiling, which only intensified her frustration.

Maybe she shouldn't have bothered saving this insufferable man. Even at the brink of death, he still managed to smile. It was hard to imagine what could ever make him stop his mischief.

After placing the last piece of medical tape, Helen put the remaining supplies back in the first aid kit. Standing up, she dusted off her hands. "All done. You can go back to your room now."

Otto sat up from the couch and began buttoning his shirt.

"I can leave, but if my wounds get infected and I end up dying outside, I'll come knocking on your door again. If you're okay with handling that wake-up call, then I'll go without another word," he replied defiantly.

Helen turned away, her expression hardening. "Otto, do you know what it means to 'bite the hand that feeds you'?"

"Does it make a difference whether I know or not?" Otto asked, looking up with a faint smile. Despite his frail appearance, he radiated an air of dignity in the light.

"Well, you're definitely biting the hand that feeds you right now. I just saved you, and now you're keeping me from getting any rest," Helen said sternly, crossing her arms.

"I swear, Ms. Spencer, I'm staying here for your peace of mind. If I leave now and someone comes after me, not being able to sleep will be the least of your concerns," Otto replied firmly.

Helen glanced at him and then at the door, recognizing the logic in his argument.

"Fine, you can stay, but you'd better behave and remain in the living room. Otherwise, I don't care if there are assassins—I'll still throw you out."

Otto shrugged nonchalantly, choosing not to push the matter further.

Helen shot him a sidelong glance. Noticing a spare blanket on the couch, she felt a bit more at ease and headed into her bedroom.

Just as she turned off the lights and was about to settle into bed, Helen saw Otto's shadow standing by the bedroom door.

"What are you up to now?" she asked, her patience wearing thin.

Otto hobbled over to the window and said, "The couch's too short; lying curled up would put pressure on my wounds. If you're going to help, at least let me arrange a makeshift bed on the floor."

Initially, Otto gasped in pain, but soon, his breathing settled into a steady rhythm.

Helen eventually let her guard down and drifted off to sleep.

As the night wore on, Helen, wrapped in her cozy blanket, lost track of time. It felt as though she had slipped into a warm, soothing embrace, the comforting heat enveloping her completely.

When dawn arrived and sunlight began to stream into the room, the warmth from the night still lingered.

Helen gradually opened her eyes. As her grogginess lifted, she noticed a large hand resting on her. Reacting swiftly, she rolled over and kicked the intruder off the bed.

Otto couldn't tell whether he had been jolted awake by the kick or the fall. Clutching his wound, he struggled to sit up, his face growing pale.

He had deliberately smeared blood on his clothes the previous night, but now the wound had actually reopened. Warm blood seeped from the gash, trickling down his side.

Seeing his distress, Helen felt a fleeting moment of sympathy. Despite this, she quickly masked her feelings, her expression turning stern.