Wicked Husband-Chapter 167 - 166

The pen clattered onto the desk. Staggering to her feet, she flashed a bright smile and embraced Cesare.

She wanted to hold him tightly, but her body lacked the strength, so she simply leaned into him. Still, it was Cesare’s arms, and that was enough. Eileen called out his name in delight.

"Cesare!"

Cesare, who had been observing her with an impassive expression, blinked slightly, then let out a soft, airy laugh and wrapped her in his arms.

With her face buried in his chest, Eileen inhaled deeply. Since their first meeting as children, being held by him had always made her feel happiest.

As always, she nestled closer, taking in his scent—a mix of deep, shadowy forest and, today, a faint trace of smoke.

Sniffing lightly, she looked up at him. Despite years of observation and study, Cesare remained an enigma—a mystery she doubted she would ever fully unravel.

Gazing into his crimson eyes, which she loved more than anything, she whispered, "Did you know? Your eyes are the most beautiful in the world."

The shy confession made sleep irresistible. Dizzy and exhausted, she couldn’t hold out any longer. Just before succumbing to slumber, Eileen managed a soft farewell.

"Good night..."

And then, she fell into a deep sleep. Cesare caught her limp body, chuckling softly.

"Always running away."

Cradling the sleeping Eileen in one arm, he picked up her notebook with the other. After calculating her intake and confirming that the prepared emetic wasn’t needed, he decided to let her sleep it off.

Carrying her to the sofa, Cesare sat down with her still in his arms. He studied her slumbering face, watching as her parted lips exhaled soft, steady breaths. The setting sun’s rays filtered through the curtains, and birdsong drifted in through a slightly open window, filling the room with a peaceful tranquility.

Matching his breathing to hers, Cesare tightened his hold slightly, savoring her warmth and the faint scent of aromatic oil. A gentle drowsiness crept over him. Resting his nose against her crimson hair, he closed his eyes. For a moment, all his desires and ambitions seemed to fade, leaving only the fragile, cherished presence in his arms.

He too fell asleep.

"Ugh..."

Eileen woke up, pale and groaning, her body aching from the effects of the Morpheus overdose. She must have fallen asleep mid-experiment. Cesare had likely found her in the laboratory and brought her to the sofa. But now, she was alone.

Had it all been a hallucination from the drug?

Eileen staggered to find a bucket, vomiting violently—a typical side effect of the overdose.

With trembling hands, she reached for her notebook to record the symptoms—nausea and a pounding headache. The appropriate dose, she noted, seemed to be 15mg.

Flipping through her notes, Eileen winced at her messy handwriting but stopped short when she saw a neat entry at the bottom:

[Fifth Dose, 0mg. No further doses to be administered.]

The elegant, sharp handwriting unmistakably belonged to Cesare. He had indeed come to her lab, carried her to the sofa, and stayed until she fell asleep.

"Oh no..."

Eileen momentarily forgot her pounding headache and nausea, overcome with embarrassment. She had hoped to conduct the experiment discreetly, but instead, she had ended up showing Cesare the worst possible side effects.

Mortified, she wanted to crawl under her desk and hide, but there was no undoing what had happened. She’d have to explain herself to him later. For now, she needed to focus on the immediate issue.

Gathering herself, Eileen packed the remaining Morpheus doses—ten 15mg portions—and left the lab.

"Madam!" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Sonio, seeing her pale and disheveled appearance, was alarmed and immediately prepared to insist she rest. But Eileen clutched the bag of Morpheus and said, "I’m going to Count Dominico’s estate."

The night sky was pitch black. Her sudden decision to leave at such an hour made Sonio hesitate, but after a long sigh, he replied, "The night air is still chilly. Let me get you a coat."

With the coat draped over her shoulders, Eileen realized she was still in her lab apron and casual attire, her hair a messy tangle. But there was no time to fix her appearance.

At Count Dominico’s estate, the count looked even more shocked than before. As he stared at her in disbelief, Eileen opened her bag and rasped in a hoarse voice, "Count, I’ve made a new painkiller. It’s not a cure, but it might make things easier for your wife."

The count was silent for a moment before his face crumpled. Eileen instinctively clutched her bag tighter as tears began to stream down the count’s face.

The Count, who usually exuded a stern and meticulous air, collapsed to the ground and began sobbing like a child. Eileen was taken aback, clutching her bag tightly as she stared at him in shock. Gathering herself, she slid the bag under her arm and grasped the Count’s arm, attempting to pull him to his feet.

"Count Dominico! This isn’t the time for tears."

Though she wished she could console him, administering the painkiller to his wife was far more urgent.

"Please, stop crying and let’s go to your wife."

At her words, the Count abruptly stood, sniffing and gesturing for Eileen to follow. As they hurried toward the Countess’s chambers, Eileen quickly explained the drug.

"It’s still experimental, and I’ve tested it on myself. There may be side effects, such as nausea and dizziness."

The Count’s tear-streaked face showed surprise at the revelation that Eileen had personally tested the drug. She glanced around, ensuring the staff kept their distance, before continuing.

"In small doses, it’s not highly addictive. However, given the dosage your wife will require, addiction is almost inevitable."

By the time they entered the Countess’s room, low moans of pain filled the air. Too weak to scream properly, the Countess seemed locked in a relentless struggle with her agony. The Count turned a pale, stricken face to Eileen.

"Addiction...?"

Closing the door behind them, Eileen faced the Count squarely. He deserved the full truth.

"The painkiller I’ve developed is derived from opium."

The Count’s expression wavered, his resolve shaken. Eileen spoke steadily, her tone measured.

"But it’s also the only thing that can ease your wife’s suffering."

Her voice carried the conviction of an apothecary who knew the efficacy of her creation. Among all existing painkillers, Morpheus was unparalleled. It had been designed for soldiers on the battlefield, not for ordinary aches or pains.

"Opium..."