Together Apart: Her White Moonlight Has Returned Too-Chapter 35: Want Me to Help You Remember?

"Grandma!"

"Mom!"

Everyone rushed to feed Old Mrs. Valentine her medicine, and only then did her complexion start to improve.

She pushed Winston Valentine away in distaste and held Vera Yves’s hand. "Vera."

Vera’s voice was gentle, "Grandma, I’m here."

Only then did the group hurriedly help Old Mrs. Valentine upstairs.

Tristan Valentine’s face was grave as he glanced at Winston Valentine, "Come to the study with me!"

Melinda Shelby, who hadn’t spoken all this time, finally spoke up, "Tristan Valentine, what do you intend to do to my son?"

Tristan Valentine looked at her expressionlessly, "Is this the good son you raised, one who shows no respect for his elders?"

Melinda Shelby let out a cold laugh, "Isn’t it thanks to your great example that he’s like this? And you have the nerve to blame me?"

Tristan Valentine snorted, "He’s a Valentine, not a Shelby. Disciplining my son is not your place!"

Melinda Shelby was so angry she was grinding her teeth, but she knew well that head-on confrontations with this man wouldn’t benefit her at all. He wouldn’t give her an inch.

With a stern face, Tristan Valentine went upstairs, and Winston Valentine followed.

After returning to her room, Old Mrs. Valentine’s face was still quite pale. Vera massaged her for a while longer, and only then did she look much more at ease.

"Vera, as for Winston... don’t worry, with Grandma here, he will absolutely never do anything to let you down!"

"Grandma, I know."

After accompanying Old Mrs. Valentine for dinner and staying with her for a while, Vera returned to her bedroom.

Winston Valentine was nowhere to be seen.

Chelsea Valentine came in with some food, "Winston was called to the study by my second uncle and got a scolding. Now he’s been sent to kneel in the ancestral hall as punishment. He hasn’t had dinner yet, so I had the kitchen prepare some for him. Could you take it to him?"

Vera did not respond.

Chelsea placed the food container in her hands, pushed her out of the room, and whispered, "If you don’t go, you’ll just give an opportunity to those with ulterior motives. Vera, do you really want to hand Winston over to someone else?"

Vera didn’t want to go and turned back, "Some things are not mine to give, whether I want to or not."

Because she never had them in the first place.

Chelsea grasped her shoulders, not letting her retreat, "Are you really mad at him? Actually, Winston cares a lot for all his younger siblings. Even if it were any other sister today, if he thought the man wasn’t reliable, he would still be opposed."

But Vera knew that wasn’t the case.

In three years of marriage, Cecilia Vaughn was the only person who could stir his emotions.

Chelsea sighed next to her ear, "Your second uncle even whipped him. Just looking at those wounds makes me wince. Since Grandpa passed away, it’s been a long time since anyone in the family has been whipped."

Vera halted her steps.

Chelsea continued, "It’s cold, and there’s not even a blanket in the ancestral hall. Winston’s hurt, and if he gets sick from the cold, wouldn’t you feel sorry?"

Chelsea took a blanket and ointment from a servant and stuffed them into Vera’s arms, "A couple is supposed to be each other’s warmth."

Not wanting to ignore Chelsea’s gesture, Vera followed her to the ancestral hall in the backyard.

The door of the ancestral hall was open. Winston Valentine was kneeling on a prayer mat, his back straight. There were indeed several bloody marks on his white shirt, indicating that Tristan hadn’t held back.

Chelsea gave her a gentle push and then turned to leave.

Vera hesitated for a moment, walked over to Winston, and placed the food container on the ground, "Big Sister asked me to bring you something to eat."

Winston glanced sideways at her, his voice cold, "If she hadn’t asked you to, you wouldn’t have?"

Vera placed the blanket on a nearby chair and responded softly. After he stood up for Cecilia, he still expected her to bring him something?

Winston sneered, "Truly heartless."

Looking at the ointment in her hand, Vera felt like throwing it in the trash, but maintained a composed expression, "I left the blanket and ointment for you. I’ll be going."

Winston grabbed her wrist, "Who’s going to apply the ointment if you leave?"

Saying this, he let go of her hand and removed his white shirt.

Vera glanced at him; there were more than ten whip marks on his back, some of them bleeding.

Now, both The Valentine Family and The Valentine Group were essentially under Tristan Valentine’s control.

It’s just that Tristan rarely returned to the old house and wasn’t close to Winston. Old Mrs. Valentine must have called him back today specifically to rein Winston in.

Yet this man feared nothing for Cecilia Vaughn’s sake.

A sense of suffocation was trapped in Vera’s chest, and she was reluctant to apply the ointment for him. Winston let out a mocking laugh, "Have you forgotten, Mrs. Valentine, who took care of you when you were drunk as a skunk last night?"

Vera’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glared at him, "You..."

"What about me?"

Vera didn’t want to mention last night’s embarrassing incident, so she unscrewed the ointment and used her fingers to apply it to the bleeding areas with a bit more force than intended.

Winston sucked in a sharp breath from the pain, "Is this how you repay kindness with enmity?"

Vera mumbled, "Nobody asked you to take care of me last night!"

Winston snorted, "Oh really? Who was it that got drunk, clung to me and refused to let go, and kept calling my name?"

Vera’s hand paused. Did she really call his name?

"You’re making things up!"

"Making things up?" Winston turned to sit on the prayer mat, his dark eyes fixed intently on her, "Need me to help you remember? Last night I kindly carried you back to the villa, but you held onto my neck and wouldn’t let go, telling me, ’Winston Valentine, I like...’"

Vera’s heart skipped a beat. She lunged forward and covered his mouth, her face turning crimson, "No, I didn’t!"

How could she possibly confess to him, even if she’d had too much to drink?

Winston leaned back slightly as she threw herself at him, his hand supported on the ground, watching her flushed face, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Cecilia Vaughn arrived with a food container, but before reaching the ancestral hall, she saw from afar the two tangled together.

She instinctively hid to the side.

Even through the fabric, Vera could feel the defined muscles of his back, realizing how intimate their posture was, she hurriedly withdrew her hand and stepped back.

Winston grabbed her waist and whispered in her ear, "What are you thinking about, to make your face this red?"

Vera turned her head aside, "You’re the liar, claiming I said I liked..."

Seeing even her earlobes turn red, Winston leaned closer, his voice teasingly ambiguous, "What liking? Mrs. Valentine, you said you wanted... to drink water."

Vera was momentarily stunned and vaguely recalled him giving her water.

What was she thinking?

Vera felt embarrassed, struggling to withdraw from his embrace, but Winston still wouldn’t let go, and casually said, "Oh, and ’I want a bath.’

Vera glared at him in exasperation, "Winston Valentine, you did it on purpose last night!"

"Did what on purpose?"

"Took advantage of me!"

Winston gestured for her to look at the tablets behind, lowering his voice, "Mind your words, Mrs. Valentine. This is the Valentine Family’s ancestral place—there’s no ’taking advantage,’ just marital intimacy."

Vera was so angry she punched him, "Have you no shame?"