Chapter 208: We Are the Same Kind

The Hughes family’s pretentiousness was something to behold.

They had booked out the entire floor where Jean Hughes was staying. Outsiders were forbidden, and you needed an escort to get upstairs.

When the elevator doors opened, two bodyguards were standing in the lobby.

More bodyguards stood watch at the access points on either side, their faces stern and unsmiling. The security was intense.

The moment Jane Lancaster stepped through the glass doors, a nurse approached with a forehead thermometer, asking to take her temperature. Then, the nurse told her she needed to be disinfected from head to toe.

She understood that some specialized wards had such requirements, but a full-body disinfection? ’That’s a bit much, isn’t it?’

Still, she glanced at the nurse and decided not to make things difficult for a fellow working stiff. She stood still as the nurse sprayed her with disinfectant.

Only then did Secretary Dawson walk over. He gave Jane Lancaster a sweeping, up-and-down look, a knowing smile on his face. "Miss Lancaster, this way, please. Our Young Master is waiting for you."

He had been worried Jane Lancaster wouldn’t show up, but it seemed he had been worrying for nothing.

’The chance to marry into the Hughes family... What woman wouldn’t be tempted?’

’She even wore a white dress, looking all gentle and harmless. It’s plain to see she isn’t hiding anything, which saves me the trouble of figuring out how to search her.’

’If only she’d been this obedient from the start. She almost pushed us into a corner we couldn’t get out of.’

"That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing today, Miss Lancaster," Secretary Dawson instructed. "You should dress like this more often. The Young Master likes it."

He was willing to let bygones be bygones and extend an olive branch.

Jane Lancaster paused. She was only wearing this dress because Mama Knight had picked it out for her, not to please anyone.

She could tell he was trying to get on her good side.

Jane Lancaster smiled. "Is that so? I think your blood vessels must be quite beautiful too, Secretary Dawson."

Her gaze lingered on Secretary Dawson’s neck for two seconds.

’Is that supposed to be a compliment?’ Secretary Dawson met Jane Lancaster’s eyes and felt an inexplicable chill on his neck. The memory of her choking him yesterday, her thumb pressing on his artery, flooded his mind...

"You..."

"Sister," a voice interrupted Secretary Dawson.

Secretary Dawson looked up and rushed forward to support Jean Hughes. "Young Master, why are you out of bed?"

Jean Hughes had his head wrapped in gauze and was wearing a hospital gown. His face was pale, making him look particularly refined and gentle.

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "I heard you were here, Sister. I couldn’t be rude, so I had an orderly help me come out to welcome you."

Secretary Dawson shot Jane Lancaster a jealous look. ’This woman has all the luck, getting the Young Master to care so much about her.’

’No wonder she had the nerve to talk to me like that. She must be getting arrogant now that she has his favor.’

A deep sense of dread for his career washed over him. ’What if Jane Lancaster still holds a grudge? What if she whispers poison in the Young Master’s ear?’

Even though Jean Hughes had only taken a few steps, a whole group of people fussed over him, carefully escorting him back to his bed.

Jane Lancaster didn’t want to waste time. "What did you want to see me for?"

Jean Hughes gestured with his eyes for everyone else to leave.

Secretary Dawson remained standing. "Young Master, I think it’s best if I stay here with you."

Jean Hughes frowned. "Get out!"

"I think you should let Secretary Dawson stay. He clearly doesn’t trust me," Jane Lancaster said casually, lightly toying with a bouquet of roses on the table.

Her hand was pale, with fingers as slender as scallion shoots—delicate and boneless, as beautiful as a perfect work of art.

Who would have thought that this very hand had held a knife and killed a dog with a single strike?

Jean Hughes’s expression darkened. He turned to Secretary Dawson. "Get out!"

This time, Secretary Dawson scurried away. As he left, he felt a little wronged. ’Why did the Young Master suddenly get so angry?’

Compared to the mercurial Mr. Hughes, Jean Hughes, the heir, was known for being much more mild-tempered. He was refined, polite, and well-liked by his colleagues.

Only a handful of insiders knew that when the Young Master truly lost his temper, he was far more terrifying than his father.

Secretary Dawson had once handled the case of a servant whose leg turned necrotic and required amputation. It was hard to believe the injury came from a single kick by Jean Hughes.

Anyone in the Hughes family with half a brain knew to stay far, far away when the Young Master was angry.

He felt a touch of schadenfreude. He certainly wasn’t going to warn Jane Lancaster about any of this. ’It would be best if she crossed a line and the Young Master taught her a harsh lesson.’

---

Jane Lancaster watched the door close. "You let Secretary Dawson leave just like that? Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something to you?"

Jean Hughes smiled at her, feigning curiosity. "And what would you do to me?"

Jane Lancaster smiled. "Bash your goddamn head in."

Jean Hughes couldn’t help but laugh out loud. "Jay, you’re so interesting! But you wouldn’t do that to me, would you? We’re the same, you and I."

Jane Lancaster sighed. ’Why is it that no one ever believes me when I tell the truth?’

"The same? I think you’re mistaken. And don’t call me Jay. Don’t call me Sister, either. It’s disgusting, you know?"

Jean Hughes was taken aback for a moment, not expecting her to turn on him so suddenly. But he quickly plastered a smile back on his face.

"Then what would you like me to call you? We’re getting married, after all. We should have a more intimate name for each other. Should I call you ’darling,’ then?"

Jane Lancaster shot out a hand and grabbed him by the collar. "Try saying one more disgusting thing to me. Years ago, I overheard people through a wall discussing injecting Prince with rabies serum. I thought it was Jim Jenson’s idea, but the real mastermind was you, wasn’t it?"

This time, Jean Hughes looked genuinely surprised. "So it was you!"

Jane Lancaster keenly sensed that something was off in his words. "Who did you think it was?"

"No one. Besides, darling, you’ve got me all wrong." Jean Hughes blinked, the picture of innocence.

Jane Lancaster frowned. "You thought it was Alvin Lancaster, didn’t you? What did my father say back then? Did he pin the blame on Alvin?"

There’s a world of difference between setting a dog on someone and setting a rabid dog on someone.

The former could be passed off as a prank, especially if it didn’t cause any terrible consequences. The latter is attempted murder, plain and simple.

Jane had heard the discussion at the time, but the situation was urgent. Saving the person was the priority, so she never had a chance to see who the two speakers were.

By the time she could make an accusation, she had no proof. Bringing it up recklessly would have only made her a target.

To protect his daughter, Timothy Lancaster had very likely changed the story, fudging the details so it seemed Alvin Lancaster was the one who made the accusation.

After all, Alvin Lancaster now had amnesia. There was no way to verify what he might have said before he passed out.

Jane Lancaster suddenly tightened her grip. Jean Hughes’s throat constricted, and he instantly found it hard to breathe.

"You went after Alvin Lancaster because you thought he was the one who overheard your secret, didn’t you?"

Her hand was cold against the warmth and fragility of his neck. He smiled up at her, as docile as a lamb offering its throat to the slaughter.

Jane Lancaster’s expression remained unchanged. Her fingers tightened, and tightened again. Jean Hughes’s face gradually flushed red...

The look of easy confidence in his eyes gradually vanished, replaced by panic.

The suffocation finally made him grope for the call button on his bedside table. It was answered in a second. "Hello, Young Master Hughes? What can I do for you?"

Jane Lancaster was unmoved, her grip continuing to tighten...

Jean Hughes grew more frantic. Just as he swiped desperately at the nightstand, Jane Lancaster abruptly released her grip.

THUD. Jean Hughes’s hand slammed against the bed frame, and he sucked in a sharp breath of pain.