Hans's face softened as he looked at Irene and stroked her arm. "It's not safe for you to go out in the middle of the night like this. That intruder is definitely after you. Of all the people in this villa, you're the only one being terrorized. I have to protect you because it's my responsibility."
"But what about Violette...?"
Hans shifted his gaze to Violette indifferently. "Violette, as someone older than Irene, you have to give in. Give this room to Irene."
"You're worried about Irene being attacked, but what about me? What if the intruder hurts me—"
Hans interrupted her. "You grew up in a mafia family. You've faced dangerous situations many times, but you've always been safe all these years. You're different from Irene, who is weak and unable to fight back."
Not wanting to hear Violette's refusal, Hans called a servant to move Violette's belongings to another room.
Violette clenched her hands tightly. Pain pierced her chest. Tears threatened to fall.
Since Irene returned a year ago, Hans's attitude had changed. He cared more about Irene and no longer cared about the image of a caring husband that he had always projected.