The Comatose Billionaire's Secret Genius Bride

The afternoon sun warmed the hospital room. Arletta stood by the bed, holding a basin of warm water. She gently wiped Josue's long fingers with a damp washcloth, stimulating the blood flow. Without warning, the door flew open. Fernanda stomped into the room, her red-soled heels clicking aggressively against the floor. She held a large Hermes thermos in her hand. Steam curled from the slightly unscrewed lid. Her eyes locked onto Arletta, burning with malice. Arletta immediately dropped the washcloth into the basin. She stood up, wiping her wet hands nervously on her apron. She lowered her head. "Miss Fernanda." Fernanda marched to the bed. She looked at the washcloth floating in the water and sneered. "That water is filthy. Go get fresh water. Now." Arletta nodded obediently. She turned her back to Fernanda and walked toward the attached bathroom. The second her face was out of sight, her nervous expression vanished, replaced by a deadly calm. Fernanda watched Arletta's back. A vicious smirk crossed her face. She twisted the cap of the thermos completely loose. As Arletta turned around, carrying the heavy basin of water, Fernanda pretended to trip. She spun around, throwing her elbow hard toward Arletta's chest. The thermos tipped. Boiling hot water shot through the air, aimed directly at Arletta's face. In a fraction of a second, Arletta let out a panicked gasp. She purposely let her left foot slip on the smooth floor. Her body tilted sharply to the side in a clumsy, awkward fall. The boiling water missed her face by an inch. The entire scalding contents splashed directly onto the skirt of Fernanda's expensive silk dress. Fernanda let out a blood-curdling shriek. The boiling water soaked through the thin fabric, scalding her thighs. She jumped back, screaming in agony. As Arletta fell, she let go of the basin. The heavy plastic bowl flipped through the air. A gallon of lukewarm water crashed directly onto Fernanda's head. Fernanda's perfect blowout flattened against her skull. Her waterproof mascara ran down her cheeks in thick black lines. She looked like a drowned rat. Arletta hit the floor hard. She covered her face with her hands and started sobbing hysterically. "I'm sorry! I slipped! I didn't mean to!" Fernanda was shaking with rage. She raised her hand, ready to slap Arletta across the face. "What is the meaning of this? !" A booming voice shattered the chaos. Cornelius stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane, the head housekeeper right behind him. Cornelius stared at the puddle of water, the dropped thermos, and Fernanda standing over Arletta with her hand raised. His face turned purple with anger. Fernanda dropped her hand. She immediately started crying. "Grandpa! She threw boiling water on me on purpose!" Arletta stayed on the floor, trembling violently. She pointed a shaking finger at the Hermes thermos rolling on the floor. "M-Miss Fernanda's water was too hot... I slipped and dropped my basin..." Cornelius looked at the steaming thermos. Then he looked at Arletta's completely unburned face. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Fernanda was obsessed with Josue. He knew exactly what this was: a jealous, petty attempt to disfigure the new bride. "You are a disgrace," Cornelius barked at Fernanda. "Acting like a street thug in my house! You have no class!" He turned to the housekeeper. "Take her to her room. Lock the door. She is forbidden from entering the east wing without my permission." Fernanda's eyes widened in horror. Humiliation burned her chest, but she didn't dare talk back to the patriarch. The housekeeper grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. Fernanda stared at Arletta over her shoulder, her eyes promising murder. Cornelius sighed. He told the maids to clean up the mess and told Arletta to rest. Then he left. The room fell silent. Arletta stood up. She dusted off her jeans and walked to the window, watching Fernanda being dragged across the courtyard. A dark, mocking smile touched Arletta's lips. These rich people thought they were so clever. To someone who had survived the underground medical black market, this was child's play.