Chapter 23 Is Your Husband That Good?
"Sunny, you don't get it," Clara Bennett said with a soft laugh. "He's actually pretty good to me..."
"Good?" Sunny Lin arched an eyebrow, her face twisting into a skeptical grimace.
Sunny had heard the story: the day after the wedding, Clara went to return her gown and got humiliated by the shop clerk—until Mason Reed stormed in, bought the priciest dress in the store, and made the clerk kneel to measure Clara's size.
Back then, Sunny pegged him as a loose cannon—vain, hot-headed, and unreliable.
Worst of all? He'd blown Clara's savings to do it.
"Clara, if you think him sticking up for you at the dress shop and handing over some family heirlooms counts as 'good,' you're too naive," Sunny said, exasperated. "You don't know the first thing about marriage!"
"It's a two-way street, not you busting your tail while he kicks back and lives off your paycheck!"
Sunny jabbed a finger at Clara's forehead, frustration bubbling over. Clara was a sweetheart—too sweet, too trusting. She'd remember a crumb of kindness forever and spend her life paying it back tenfold.
A guy like Mason—someone who'd done time—would chew up a softie like her and spit out the bones.
"A grown man who won't lift a finger to earn a dime, just leeching off his wife's cash? Does he even call himself a man?" Sunny snapped.
But Clara's face darkened, the light draining from her eyes. She fixed Sunny with a steely look. "Don't talk about my husband like that."
Sunny froze, speechless.
"Yeah, I'm defending him! I'm spoiling him!" Clara shot back, her small voice suddenly fierce. "He's my husband—shouldn't I stand up for him? Shouldn't I have his back? I know he's got flaws—big ones, maybe even dealbreakers to you."
"But I'm the one living with him every day," she pressed on.
"I know who he is better than anyone. Sure, he's scrapped and served time, but I don't care—I don't think he's bad.
Not even close. He's... he's solid, in his own way.
And honestly, I'm the one who tricked him in this marriage.
He still doesn't know who I really am. If I hadn't married him, the Bennett family wouldn't have forked over a cent for my mom's treatment. I owe him, if anything!"
"So..." Clara swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing, "don't badmouth my husband in front of me anymore. I don't want to hear it."
Sunny gaped at her, wide-eyed.
She'd known Clara for years, always pegging her as a quiet pushover. But this? This was a firecracker—stubborn, sharp-tongued, and oddly charming in her defiance. She could've out-talked a courtroom full of lawyers.
Sunny snapped out of it, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle and a sigh as she threw up her hands. "Fine, fine! I swear I won't trash-talk your man in front of you again! You two are the real deal—sharing a bed and all. I can't compete with that..."
At the mention of "sharing a bed," Clara's face turned beet red.
Sunny misread the blush, smirking mischievously. "Oh, speaking of beds... is your husband that good? Wore you down with his skills, huh? That why you're so dead-set on defending him—and blowing your cash on him?"
"Sunny!" Clara squeaked, mortified. "What are you even saying?!"
"Oh, come on!" Sunny cackled, leaning in. "No secrets between us! Look, think of it this way: you're keeping a hot guy around—good looks, great moves. Money well spent, right?"