Tears welled up in Violeta’s eyes as she sobbed quietly, feeling deep sorrow for her husband’s suffering.
“But he whips himself twenty times a day. If this continues, the wounds, old and new, will eventually break him,” she murmured, full of concern.
Lucinda considered the situation carefully.
Despite Graham being the one who hurt her the most, she couldn’t deny that Valerie had
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masterminded the entire plot. Graham’s biggest mistake was not intervening to stop Valerie after learning the truth.
Their relationship was irreparably damaged, and Lucinda couldn’t see him as her brother anymore for that very reason.
Determined to remain fair and unswayed by emotions, Lucinda spoke to Violeta earnestly.
“Tell him to stop this self-punishment.
If he truly wants to atone, he can just read the Prajna Sutra every day. I won’t have my men keep an eye on him. He can decide whether to do this or not. I won’t force him into anything. Only when he fully redeems himself from the harm he caused me will I consider forgiving him.”
Having said her piece with a cold resolve, Lucinda turned away without any trace of nostalgia or anger.
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Staring at Lucinda’s retreating figure, Violeta sighed and gently pushed the door open.
She squatted behind Graham to check his wounds.
His white shirt had been torn open, bearing the marks of the two consecutive days of self-inflicted punishment-forty painful lashes that left his back scratched and bruised.
Her heart ached at the sight before her. She hesitated to touch his back, afraid that it would cause him more pain.
For the past few days, her tears had flowed Like a river, witnessing her husband’s relentless self-punishment.
“Graham, you’re seriously injured and still running a fever. Can’t we take a break from reading for now? Let me apply some medicine to your wounds, and we can continue tomorrow,” she pleaded.
But Graham remained silent, fully engrossed in the book in his hands.
Unable to persuade him to stop, Violeta could only silently accompany him, covering her mouth to muffle her soft cries.
In the countryside, Valerie had passed out again from the relentless torture she endured.
Her body had withered, and exhaustion had taken its toll on her both physically and mentally.
As the rest of the household sat down for dinner, Declan seized the opportunity to sneak into her room and check on her.
This morning, Valerie had gifted him with a warm and beautiful smile, a memory he couldn’t shake off.
He found it hard to believe that such a kind and innocent girl could be the evil witch his mother described.
Determined to get to the truth, he approached Valerie cautiously, feeling slightly awkward.
He tiptoed into her room and found that she was awake, leaning against the headboard and staring at him.