Chapter 6
Rupert watched with satisfaction as a crack finally appeared in her composure, and he raised the stakes.
"Rupert won't survive much longer. When he dies, my uncle Cruz will swallow the entire Russell family. Join me, and I'll guarantee you a lifetime of wealth and luxury, secure as the Russell family matriarch."
Every word dripped with seduction.
Diana listened, silent for a few seconds.
"So you want me to be your lover, while helping you take down your uncle as your inside agent in the family power struggle?" she asked.
"That's one way to put it," Rupert replied with perfect composure.
"No," Diana refused, swift and decisive.
Rupert's eyebrows rose, clearly not expecting such a quick rejection.
"First, I have zero interest in being your lover," Diana stated in a tone as casual as discussing pleasant weather. "Second, I care even less about who ends up with the Russell family fortune."
She paused, her clear eyes looking directly into his.
"Whoever wants me dead, I want them dead first. Whether it's Cruz or Alvina—they want Rupert dead and his new bride buried alongside him. So they're my enemies." Diana's logic was frighteningly clear.
"However, since we share common enemies, cooperation isn't out of the question."
Rupert suddenly found the situation amusing.
He had set this trap to test her. Instead, after all his maneuvering, she had pulled him to the negotiating table to discuss terms.
"Cooperation?" Rupert savored the word. "What kind of cooperation do you have in mind?"
"Also quite simple." Diana tugged at the corner of her mouth, turned to the bedside, bent down to retrieve the used syringe from last night's trash, returned to him, and held it out.
"Until I personally send those York family scum to hell, my husband must stay alive. In exchange, I'll help you deal with Cruz afterward."
Rupert looked thoughtfully at the empty syringe.
Last night, he had watched her inject whatever was in it into the body on the bed.
He had assumed it was poison, but the woman before him didn't work for Cruz, and he was standing here alive and well. The only explanation was that it wasn't poison—it was an antidote.
Had she actually been saving him?
Rupert studied Diana. Her frame was slight, her complexion pale from lack of sleep, but the light in her eyes was terrifyingly cold.
She wasn't bait, nor prey; she was a net.
After a long moment, Rupert finally responded, "Deal."
He suddenly realized that having her as an ally would be far more interesting than having her as a lover.
He wanted to see just how many fish this net could catch.
Diana casually tossed the syringe back into the trash.
Then she extended her hand. "So, Mr. Russell, here's to a successful partnership. We're allies, not enemies—at least not for now."
Early the next morning, Rupert's study was filled with the calm scent of old books and cedar.
Diana was already seated behind the large rosewood desk. The top-tier security system on this computer was supposedly impenetrable—even elite hackers would leave empty-handed.
But in her eyes, it was remarkably vulnerable.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard without aggressive tapping—just a steady, swift rhythm with movements almost too quick to follow.
On the screen, dense code flowed, washed through, and reorganized, finally stopping at the interface of an offshore bank.
That long string of zeros in the account balance was the money the York family had received for selling her like merchandise.
Diana's breathing pattern remained perfectly steady.
That enormous sum, enough to make anyone lose control, was truly just a string of numbers to her.
Without hesitation, she registered an anonymous offshore company, with legal information pointing to a virtual identity that no longer existed.
Diana purchased several overlooked small commercial properties across the ocean as future bases.
She opened new encrypted accounts, splitting the funds into countless portions. Like streams flowing into the ocean, the money passed through more than a dozen complex financial instruments, completely erasing any trace connecting it to the Russell or York families.
In less than half an hour, that massive payment from the Russell family had become the initial funding for her future high-tech private medical laboratory.
When finished, she deleted all operation traces. The computer desktop returned to its calm state, as if nothing had happened.
Just then, a gentle knock sounded on the heavy study door.
"Mrs. Russell, Mr. Mason Russell has requested your presence for lunch," came the butler's formal voice from outside.
"I'm coming," Diana responded.
This would be her first family meal since marrying into the family.
Diana stood up, rotating her slightly stiff neck. The morning light streaming through the window reflected in her eyes—clear and cold.
There might be a troublesome storm brewing, but she would face whatever came.
The Russell Manor dining room.
Mason Russell, Rupert's grandfather, sat at the head of the long table.
He didn't look at anyone, just focused on the gemstone bracelet in his hand, though his eyes missed none of the micro-expressions around the table.
To his left sat Alvina, wearing flawless makeup, though the tight line of her mouth betrayed her anxiety and impatience.
Diana was seated at Mason's right—the position of the Russell family matriarch.
She sat quietly, spine straight, demeanor composed, completely ignoring the venomous glare from Alvina across the table that seemed hot enough to burn holes through her.
The meal began, with servants bringing in dishes in a steady stream.
Alvina suddenly put down her silverware and broke the silence with a deliberate light cough.
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a silk napkin, her gaze landing lightly on Diana. "Diana, didn't they teach you how to use cutlery properly in Rosewood? If outsiders saw how you're holding them, they'd think the Russell family has no standards."
Her volume wasn't loud, but it was enough for every servant in the dining room to hear clearly.
Instantly, all the servants lowered their heads, deliberately lightening their breathing.
Diana's face showed no sign of being offended. If she let all the servants believe she was easily bullied, future troubles would only multiply.
Following Alvina's gaze, she looked down at her hands holding the knife and fork, then deliberately set them down.
She raised her head, meeting Alvina's challenging look, her face even showing perfectly calibrated regret.
"I apologize. All my attention has been focused on caring for my husband Rupert and stabilizing his condition. I truly haven't had time to worry about such minor details."
Her voice was neither too soft nor too loud, gentle and clear.
"After all, what could be more important right now than his life?"
With one sentence, she not only deflected all criticism but also made Alvina look like a cold-hearted mother who cared more about table manners than her son's life-threatening condition.
Alvina's cheeks quickly flushed, the retort stuck painfully in her chest.
She wanted to lash out, but realized anything she said would be wrong and would only make her seem more bitter.
This bitch! How dare she publicly humiliate her!
Mason, who had remained silent, stopped what he was doing.
His eyes, which had seen it all, were fixed unblinkingly on Diana.