After their meal, Wilfred took Penelope back to the Pruitt villa.
He still had some belongings there.
The drive was quiet.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the parking spot in front of the villa's courtyard.
"Mr. Dickerson is back."
Marjorie, who was playing in the yard with Hilary, spotted him immediately.
Looking at Marjorie's exhausted face and his older daughter deliberately turning away, refusing to acknowledge him, Wilfred simply smiled. "You've had a rough time, Marjorie."
"Oh, Mr. Dickerson, it's so good you're back. These past few days without you, I've felt completely lost."
Marjorie sighed with relief.
Wilfred didn't dwell on her grievances. Taking Penelope's hand, he walked into the villa.
"Ow, Hildegarde, easy! That hurts... Those crazy women—if they hadn't been women, I wouldn't have held back. I wouldn't be in this state. Ow, ow..."
Before he even reached the door, Patrick's pitiful wailing echoed from inside.
Penelope covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
Wilfred gave her a light tap on the head, then stepped inside.
In the living room, Patrick sat on the sofa while Hildegarde stood before him, dabbing iodine onto his wounds with a cotton swab.
When Patrick saw Wilfred, a flash of resentment crossed his eyes. Then he immediately leaned closer to Hildegarde, putting on a show of intimacy.
"Oh, Wilfred, you're back! I knew it—you couldn't stay away from our Hildegarde. Good to have you home. But hey, don't get the wrong idea. I got a little banged up, so she's just disinfecting my cuts. There's nothing going on between us, okay?"
Wilfred remained unmoved by Patrick's performance.
When Hildegarde saw Wilfred walk in with their daughter, a mocking smile tugged at her lips.
She lifted her chin, a victor's smugness flickering across her face.
She'd known all along—Wilfred couldn't leave her.
Throw a fit, make a little scene, and he'd come crawling back.
"Since you're here, don't just stand there. Go to your room and get Patrick a fresh set of clothes. His are ruined."
Wilfred ignored her. Holding Penelope's hand, he headed upstairs.
"What kind of attitude is that, Wilfred?"
"Who do you think you're giving that sour face to?"
Hildegarde's temper flared.
"Oh, Hildegarde, don't blame him. He's probably just jealous seeing me with you. Should I leave?"
Patrick put on a wounded expression.
That only made Hildegarde angrier.