Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 259 Could all of this have been avoided?

This revelation explained why my surveillance equipment had malfunctioned—it was all Michael’s doing.

He placed his laptop on the desk he used for studying and began to change his clothes, exuding a carefree and rebellious youthfulness.

He stripped off all his clothes and changed into a new set of underwear and pajamas.

After organizing his old clothes, he glanced at the underwear he had just removed, a smirk playing on his lips as he wrapped the garment, heavy with the scent of male hormones, in the middle of the dirty laundry pile before leaving his room.

On the other side, Betty had finished setting up the washing machine and was gathering clothes from our bedroom.

As she carried the clothes back to the bathroom, Michael also arrived with his laundry, and they unexpectedly met again.

"Just put them down, I’ll sort them out myself," Betty said calmly to Michael, though her composed expression seemed forced.

"Don’t you need help with any other chores? I can help share the load," Michael offered, his tone overly sweet in front of Betty.

"No, I can manage on my own," she replied.

"Alright, I’ll go back to my room and work on something. Call me if you need anything," Michael said, not pressing further.

As he left the bathroom, he flashed a sly smile, as if he had pulled off a mischievous act.

Was it something to do with that underwear?

Back in his room, Michael resumed working on his laptop, which ran a sophisticated hacking system.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen.

Meanwhile, Betty began sorting the laundry in the bathroom.

Typically, outer garments and pants are washed together, and underwear is washed separately.

Moreover, Betty always washed her underwear separately from the men’s.

After sorting our clothes, Betty started on Michael’s.

Her expression remained calm as long as she didn’t face Michael directly.

When she finished sorting Michael’s clothes, she encountered something that made her blush and her expression turn complex—Michael’s underwear.

Usually, when I was home, Michael washed his own underwear, always insisting on doing it himself, which I took as a sign of his maturity and modesty.

So, the sudden appearance of Michael’s underwear in the laundry was unexpected and confusing for Betty.

Why hadn’t Michael washed them himself? Could it be intentional? Any rational person would think so.

After composing herself, Betty continued sorting Michael’s underwear.

His underwear was a type of loose boxer briefs, necessary due to his large size, as tight briefs were uncomfortable for him.

His underwear, though small, showed distinct signs of wear—stains from urine and faint milky traces of nocturnal emissions, a common occurrence during adolescence.

Betty knew that I had only experienced such emissions during my teenage years, and since reaching adulthood, apart from sexual activity, I had never had such emissions.

"Youth, it’s a wonderful thing," I thought to myself, and perhaps Betty, watching through the screen, shared this sentiment.

Betty glanced at Michael’s underwear as she sorted the laundry, her eyes inadvertently sweeping over the intimate garment.

Michael had just exited the bathroom and shut the door behind him, so Betty didn’t need to worry about him noticing her fleeting look.

Inside the small bathroom, with the door firmly shut, the scents lingered stubbornly.

The potent smell of semen was particularly strong, filling the space with an aroma that might repulse other men.

But for a woman, especially one who hadn’t been sexually satisfied in a long time, these were intoxicating, almost aphrodisiacal.

Betty casually glanced at the underwear as she washed the other clothes; she planned to wash the underwear last.

Unbeknownst to her, every move she made was being monitored, her every glance and action clear to someone else—Michael.

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After fiddling with his laptop for a while, Michael had managed to access the surveillance feed that I originally set up.

Now, he was intently testing the system’s capabilities, watching Betty’s every move in the next room through his laptop screen.

Realizing this, I understood that my surveillance equipment hadn’t failed; Michael had hacked into the system and taken control.

He had even bypassed the encryption I had set up, now fully commandeering the surveillance operations.

All the surveillance equipment I had painstakingly installed was now being used against me by my own son.

What Michael didn’t realize was that there was another set of surveillance equipment in the house, far beyond his ability to detect or tamper with.

I had to admire Luna for installing this system without our knowledge.

I wondered if Luna had seen what the cameras recorded.

I trusted her character; she wouldn’t have.

Michael wasn’t in a hurry to check anything else; his eyes were glued to the screen, watching Betty as she busied herself.

It had been years since he last experienced Betty’s body; back then, he was just a young boy, inexperienced and naive.

Now, after years in Singapore, where attitudes towards sex are more liberal, he had matured significantly, both physically and mentally.

Back then, Michael, despite his young age, had a depth that was unsettling.

Now, with years of growth and experience, how much more formidable might he be?

And with his experiences in Singapore, his sexual knowledge and prowess had undoubtedly evolved.

Years ago, Betty was easily manipulated by Michael’s calculated moves.

Now, facing him again, did she stand a chance?

The answer was no.

If only I had foreseen this possibility and heightened my vigilance, could all of this have been avoided?

Betty started the washing machine in the bathroom to wash the clothes, separating our underwear for individual washing due to the small quantity.

She took out a basin to start washing the underwear by hand.

Suddenly, she paused, hesitated for a moment, then put down the basin and walked out of the bathroom.

As she stepped out, she glanced at Michael’s closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.

No matter how composed she tried to appear, being alone with Michael still made her uneasy.

This strange tension between them would never dissipate, given their awkward past.

Betty returned to our bedroom and closed the door behind her.

She pulled out a new set of underwear from the wardrobe, intending to wash the ones she was wearing.

Standing in her room, not yet changed into her pajamas, she looked at her door, caught in a moment of hesitation.